Millennium Falcon
© 2008 James Luceno
317 pages
The Millennium Falcon is almost a character in its own right in the Star Wars canon, perhaps beloved of by more than than perhaps some of the people in the franchise. In looking for an adventure story, I assumed Millennium Falcon would be a collection of short stories about the Falcon’s former owners, but Luceno has delivered a novel with a more elegant structure. Although he opening chapters introduce us to a few of the Falcon’s earliest owners and pilots, each merits only a chapter and each character will play a part in a larger story. The novel proper is set in the Expanded Universe, decades after The Empire Strikes Back and the Thrawn trilogy. The twins that Lei gave birth to there are adults now, who have been as involved in the history of the post-imperial universe as their parents were during the first three movies. Some of them have even died. When the novel opens, Han and Lei are preparing to begin a quest of sorts, along with their granddaughter: they’re going to track down as many of the previous owners of the Falcon as they can. Across the galaxy, a man who has been kept in stasis since his supposed death at the close of the Clone Wars has just woken up to a galaxy very different from the one he grew up in. The Republic has fallen, as has the Empire that destroyed it. The decades between Jadak’s “death” following the partial destruction of his ship The Stellar Envoy in the course of an intelligence mission have seen decades of brutal wars, but the disconnect does not prevent him from feeling the urge to complete his mission. Something aboard the Envoy was the key to fulfilling his mission, and so he must find it so that his last orders can be carried out. Only then can he move on with his life.
The Stellar Envoy would take on many names in the decades that followed as she was transferred from one organization or individual to another. Eventually, of course, she acquires the name Millennium Falcon and serves Han Solo through the wars that followed the destruction of the Empire. While Han works backwards — beginning with finding out who owned the ship before losing it to the man who would lose it to Solo — Jadak attempts to find out what happened to the Envoy after it was salvaged following his accident. Both men hear stories of their ship, serving both scoundrels and saints through the years. Eventually their paths will intersect, but in the shadows one man watches them both. The novel will eventually take both Solo and Jadak to a forgotten planet in its death throes, where the key to the mystery surrounding Jadak’s mission waits.
I have read Luceno before, although not recently enough to have mentioned his work here. I enjoyed those, and Millennium Falcon is not an exception. The various stories in which the Falcon has played a large part were interesting enough in themselves, but the way Luceno fits them together is especially enjoyable. His use of a character from the past provides an interesting perspective, and the “history” he is filled in on also serves as background exposition, helping readers alien to the extended universe establish context. As I have not read beyond the Thrawn series, I appreciated this. I doubt Extended Universe readers would need a recommendation to read this, but even those who just enjoyed the movies will be able to pick this up and read it given the background exposition.
Captain Horatio Hornblower
© 1937 C.S. Forester
504 pages
I’ve been itching for a read involving adventure, so when in the course of reading an interview with Sir Patrick Stewart wherein Stewart recounted Gene Roddenberry giving him a set of books about the seafaring adventures of Horatio Hornblower of the Royal Navy in the hopes that Stewart would find Hornblower’s character of use in maturing Jean-Luc Picard, my interest was piqued and I decided to give the books a try.
Captain Horatio Hornblower is a collection of three novellas following the service of the titular character in the first decade of the 19th century. Post-revolutionary France is now ruled by Napoleon Bonaparte, who will soon attempt to turn all of Europe into his private domain. Great Britain stands nearly alone against his ambition. Lacking land forces on the scale of La Grande Armée , Britain must rely on its most powerful resource — the Royal Navy. Beat to Quarters, known outside America as The Happy Return, begins with Captain Hornblower’s arrival in South America to undertake a secret mission that may change the balance of power in Europe: plot twists abound. In A Ship of the Line and Flying Colours, Hornblower and his men return to Europe to fight France directly. Although Hornblower serves as captains, the novellas are not entirely naval: The Happy Return combines a sea story with political intrigue, while in Flying Colours Hornblower spends most of his time on land, save a daring river ride wherein he must flee those who would see him hang. I did not expected to be as gripped by Hornblower as I was: I hardly left the book while in the course of reading, as Forester constantly kept me thinking — “What will the captain do now?”
Horatio Hornblower is certainty the star of the books, and in him Forester has created an interesting character. As a captain, Hornblower must maintain the respect and loyalty of his crew at all times. Though imperiled or frequently cast into difficult circumstances impossible to anticipate, Hornblower must maintain a steely sense of calm and make decisions to face every crisis of command. This is especially evidence in The Happy Return, as Hornblower is forced to make possibly life- and career-ending decisions that will effect Europe’s political scheme on his own, as he is separated from England by oceans that would take months to cross. Behind the facade of the perfect captain lies a flawed man who hides his blemishes as best he can, but who is haunted constantly by the idea that he isn’t all he should be. Most endearing for me was his unrequited love for a certain nobleborn lady, which develops in the first novella and ripens throughout the latter two.
I have seldom been as enthralled as I have been in reading Captain Horatio Hornblower. I am presently engrossed in the eight-movie series about his early career, and will certainly be reading the rest of the series as I am able.
Strength to Love
© 1963 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr
158 pages
Strength to Love is a collection of some fourteen sermons written by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, with an “epistle” to American Christians written by King in the voice of Paul of Tarsus, creator of Christianity as we know it. As these are sermons, they are written toward a Christian audience and will be best received by one, although King’s thoughts are generally broad enough that the nonreligious and differently religious among his potential readership will find something to appreciate.
Although raised in a fundamentalist background, King adopts a “tough-minded” approach. He does not attack science when it collides with religion, for he sees science and religion as two different areas of human experience that share little ground. American scientist Stephen Jay Gould shared this approach, labeling science and religion as “non-overlapping magisteria”. Although he is not an outright slave to tradition, he still defends the Judeo-Christian heritage in full, including embracing the murderous god of Abraham and Moses while preferring to teach from the New Testament. His approach, he says, is neither conservative nor liberal, but combines elements of both. He adopts the same approach to the intersection of his faith and life: he does not see the primary purpose of Jesus as giving people an escape from metaphysical hell, but in demonstrating a godly way to live and sacrificing himself in order to inspire others. King sees the Christian mandate as striving to create the “Kingdom of God” on Earth, and he believes progress can only be achieved through surrender to a loving God. He decries the secular belief in progress that defined the 19th century (and parts of the 20th, until the two world wars) as an illusion — a plague, even. While he appreciates humanists as people of conscience who want to make the world a better place, he sees the philosophy as flawed. He also accuses humanists of arrogance and self-worship, accusations common among Christians*.
His worldview as mentioned above is articulated in this book, in addition to his thoughts on Communism, his path to nonviolence, and his ideas on how the Christian church may recover from its corrupt impotence and become a progressive force in society once more. The essay on Communism made for interesting reading, as King is sometimes associated with “leftist” causes. His passion for social justice is beyond doubt, as is his admiration for Karl Marx, who he sees as someone who was similarly passionate. He sees the Leninist system of communism as being built on a heap of bad ideas, among them the humanistic faith in progress. King’s religious experience and a near-mystical testimony make obvious that his belief in the need for God is unshakable. Even so, he is something of a Christian humanist given his approach to realizing a better world now, and his firm belief that people must work with God. He also alludes to favorably all manner of individuals, including nonreligious persons like Charles Darwin and Helen Keller.
Strength to Love made for a fascinating collection of thoughts by King, not always agreeable to me but ever informative and heartening in its way, especially the first four sermons which were not as anti-humanistic. This is an obvious recommendation to Christian audiences, the generally religious, those interested in King’s life and his approach to Gandhi’s philosophy, and to those with a tendency to deify love.
Infernova: An Infidel Reinvents Dante’s Hell
© S.A. Alenthony
220 pages
Go to Hell.
Go there with Mark Twain. In fact, let him give you a tour of Hell. It’s actually the kind of place he approves of, because in an ironic twist, it is the arrogantly pious and faithful who people it — not the rational and humanistic. This is no place of sadistic wrath, however: only a realm in which people are forced to face the consequences of their actions — where those who limited themselves and humanity by their refusal to commit to rationality realize their self-imposed limitations in full.
Infernova is a modern retelling of Dante’s Inferno, the classic story in which a man is forced to tour the bowels of Hell, being guided through its many levels by a sage or personal hero of sorts. There are nine levels all told. After passing through the Vestibule — where the otherwise rational who clung inexplicably to irrationality, like Sir Isaac Newton and C.S. Lewis — linger, chuckling at their foolishness on Earth — our narrator, led by Mark Twain, begins his descent into Hell. With Twain commenting all the while, they will descend the Slippery Slope, cross the Plains of Bullshit inhabited by sheep (people who are now in form what they remained in mind in life), and enter the final descent, which is flanked by the petrified forms of self-appointed prophets and demigods who set themselves up as spiritual tyrants and dogmatic teachers. These prophets, still living, have been forced into stone where they are unable to manipulate the minds of people with their words. Among their ranks are not just televangelists and religious fathers, but political dictators. The Inferno is home to all forms of mental slavery, not just that maintained by religion.
Impressively, and appropriately given that this is a retelling of The Inferno, Infernova is written in rhyming verse and is divided into Cantos rather than chapters.I enjoyed the format, so different from that to which I am accustomed. Written as a parody, the book will easily provide rationalists and skeptics with laughter. The author’s audacity in naming names is also entertaining. With Infernova, Alenthony promotes reason, compassion, and the human spirit while skewering the opposition in a playful way. Best of all, he does this without seeming vindictive or mean-spirited, for Twain introduces Hell in such a way as to let the narrator know that the sights he will see are not true: no outside power is inflicting further humiliation on these people. The punishments seen here are physical symbols of the mental slavery and punishment people inflict on themselves so willingly in reality.
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This week at the library…
Letter from the Birmingham Jail, written by Martin Luther King Jr, is a response to King’s critics in which King explains the necessity and appropriateness of civil disobedience in the Civil Rights movement. The letter also allows King to voice his disappointment with moderates and the Christian church for opposing the Civil Rights movement more than they assist it.
Conspirata by Robert Harris is the second book in his biographical trilogy of Cicero. Taking place during Cicero’s year as a consul, the book sees Cicero tackle the Cataline Conspiracy and earn for himself the title “Father of the Nation”, a title seldom given before the rise of the emperors. Unfortunately for Cicero, Cataline was only the beginning of both his and the Republic’s difficulties. Conspirata may one of Harris’ better works.
The Road to Wigan Pier documents lives and working conditions of coal miners in northern England, the consequences of class consciousness, and sees Orwell promote democratic socialism while explaining why socialism has been so unpopular up until that point (1937). Wigan will be useful to the social historian of the period.
Lost Discoveries by Nick Teresi is a history of global science, or at least a history of humanity’s investigation and explanation of the natural world that draws from the accounts of nearly every civilized culture on Earth. Seperate chapters focus on mathematics, astronomy, cosmology, physics, geology, chemistry, and technology, and show clearly that curiousity about the natural world and unique approaches to satiating that curiosity are part of the human heritage. Although the book had its weaknesses, I enjoyed it immensely.
Pick of the week? Oh, dear — this week’s reading was too strong to play favorites.
Quotation of the Week: “Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with.” (King, Letter from the Birmingham Jail)
Upcoming Reads:
Lost Discoveries: the Ancient Roots of Modern Science — from the Babylonians to the Maya
© 2002 Dick Teresi
453
I spotted this while collecting books for a paper on the emergence of Renaissance science, and it looked so interesting that I knew I’d be reading it properly instead of scanning and making notes. I’m glad I did, for it’s as enjoyable a book about human history and science as I’ve ever read.
Author Dick Teresi establishes from the start that while the traditional western-centric narrative of scientific progress is simplistic, chauvinistic, and incorrect, previous attempts at a multicultural view of scientific history have repeated those mistakes while being patronizing to boot. The traditional narrative, which Teresi believes began only 150 years ago, holds that science was born in Greece, where it defined the classical world until that era’s demise. While the ideas of the Greeks were kept safe by the Arabs, scientific progress did not resume until the Renaissance, and science has remained the province of the Western world ever since — only becoming global after colonialism exported it. Attempts to overturn this narrative have gone so far as to reduce the Greeks to nothing more than unoriginal borrowers, and given rise to wild speculative theories like ancient Egypt having gliders and using the Pyramids as air-control towers.
Teresi hopes — and I think, succeeds — with this book to project a broader and fairer view. Chapters on mathematics, astronomy, cosmology, physics, geology, chemistry, and technology show that cultures across the globe have all explored the natural world in their ways, and that further, many systems of thought are the result of interplay between these cultures. The combination of Greek and Indian ideas in math, for instance, supplemented the Arab world’s own knowledge in the same. Cultures have had different approaches, often ignoring parts of science while promoting others as their cultural values suggest, but no culture has failed to investigate the world in which they live. The book thus appealed to me in the same way history as a whole does: it reminds me that so many people have lived and asked questions, just as I do, and they have tried to answer those questions in a delightful variety of ways.
There is, however, a difference between explaining the natural world and doing so scientifically. Teresi’s use of science in this book is limited to the popular use of it — information relating to the world we live in. Lost Discoveries records a range of empirical and speculative approaches on the part of people to find the truth. Only one chapter suffers in content, that of cosmology. After explaining the modern view — theories based on the big bang — Teresi then repeats every mythological story that references an eternal universe that begins with massive expansion and that might tend to be cyclical in having a growth, death, and rebirth cycle. This is reaching: those stories are supernatural accounts, not investigations of the natural world. Contemporary science remains based on Greek, Indian, and Islamic math, or uses Babylonian calendars, or used Chinese technology. How are these account of cosmic birth a root or base of modern science? They have their place, but I don’t think it is in this book.
Despite this weakness, the book as a whole is strong. I enjoyed it immensely and recommend it to anyone interested in the global history of our attempts to explain the natural world. Teresi presents a varied, rich, and fair account that has increased my appreciate for the human heritage as a whole.
The Road to Wigan Pier
© 1937 George Orwell
191 pages, including forward for members of the Left Book Club.
I read this primarily for a European history class taught by a professor who typically assigns novels, journals, or other supplemental literature alongside of or instead of a standard textbook. I like this approach: it’s given me a fair bit of interesting reading over the years, introducing me to books I would have otherwise never heard of.
Originally published in 1937 — written, in fact, during the Fascist attack on Madrid — George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier covers two related topics in the same breath. The book’s opening chapters concern the living and working conditions of the working class, their plight amidst England’s then-current economic woes (chronic unemployment and housing shortages), and their difficulty in being received by the middle-class world. Orwell then moves on to the question of socialism. In his view, socialism is such an obvious idea that it should seem to appeal to everyone. Since it does not, he aims to sort out why exactly this is. He believes the problem lies with socialists’ approach, in being insincere, orthodox, or tied to utopian (specifically, Wellsian) dreams of the future. His ideal socialist is kin to the ideal Christian: one who does not spend his time talking about doctrine, but simply living and advocating for principles of justice and human decency. He finishes the book with a promotion of democratic socialism.
Although not written as such, Wigan is now valuable as a historical resource. The first part of the book serves as a documentary about the working class, whose living and working conditions were dismal indeed: they seemed scarcely better than those of the Gilded Age. The book is also now a work of intellectual and cultural history: Orwell spends a great deal of time comparing the attitudes and values of the working class and the middle class. Given that Orwell also discusses how socialism is received by people — and why they react against it — I can understand why my professor would assign it, given that we are discussing the rise of reactionary and fascist parties in Europe’s 1930s. The book is easily readable and tends toward the informal: Orwell talks to the reader with passion, communicating effectively despite a slight tendency to be absent-minded. This is definitely of interest for those interested in the life of the 1930s.
Wigan Pier made for an interesting read. I think I shall be reading more of Orwell’s nonfiction in the future, specifically his Homage to Catalonia.
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