The Austere Academy

Posted on July 18, 2009 by smellincoffee

The Austere Academy

© 2000 Lemony Snicket
221 pages
Mr. Poe warned the children at the beginning of The Miserable Mill that it was becoming increasingly difficult to locate guardians and that if anything were to happen at the mill, they would probably be stuck away in a boarding school while he looked. Seeing as their guardian at the mill was a cruel idiot and that the book ended with people losing legs, they were indeed sent to a boarding school — the Austere Academy, a place with grey buildings shaped like tombstones (or “thumbs” if you want to look at the bright side of things) and an overall bleak spirit. The teachers are frightfully dull, the vice principal is another cruel idiot, and Count Olaf is the P.E. coach. Rather than living in a warm and cozy dormitory, the kids are sent to live in the “Orphans’ Shack”, a little shed filled with fungus and crabs with only hay for beds. Naturally, they are upset by the fact that Count Olaf has found them yet again, but this time they decide to make him believe that his disguise has fooled them.
Although much of the book follows the pattern Snicket has set before in terms of plot and narrative style, there are two important variations: firstly, the kids gain friends and allies in the Quagmire triplets, who lost their parents and third triplet in a fire — just as the Baudelaire orphans did. Secondly, Snicket begins to directly work elements from the master plot into the book in that the Quagmire triplets and Baudelaire orphans learn that Count Olaf has something to do with a mysterious group. Given that this book is roughly the halfway point in the series, it seems appropriate that the overall story would start becoming more important. The book itself was as enjoyable as ever. On a final note, I sometimes think the author is using Sunny’s “gibberish” for little injokes. During the series, Sunny’s toddlerspeak is understood by her siblings and explained to us by them or Snicket — for instance, “Queek!” might mean “This turn of events seems improbable to me”. In this book I noticed instances in which Sunny’s utterances could be read doubly — perhaps for the amusement of adults who are reading the series. I doubt most children know who Sappho is, for instance, or why she would be appropriate as a response to a girl reading poetry. Then again, perhaps I am reading too much into things.
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The Great Divorce

Posted on July 16, 2009 by smellincoffee

The Great Divorce

© 1945 C.S. Lewis
118 pages.
What drew me to this book? I suppose the novelty of a story in which the lead character visits an afterlife was one factor: my previous experience with C.S. Lewis — which left me wanting — was another. The story begins with the unnamed narrator wandering about a city known only as “the Grey Town”, a dismal place full of empty streets, superficial means of amusement, and irritable people. The narrator has no idea why he’s in this town, although he’s not too much curious — he just dislikes it and wants to leave. After wandering around from street to street, he finds a bus stop and joins the line forming. The bus takes the narrator and a few fellow citizens of the grey town to what appears to be a beautiful woodland clearing near a mountain range and some unidentified source of light.
The bus dumps its passengers without much of an explanation, aside from the fact that they are free to remain in the meadow area for as long as they would like. As beautiful as it is, the narrator finds that it is impossible for him to really enjoy it: the grass is so hard on his feet that it might as well be pointy stone, and water is the same way. What’s more, the narrator realizes that he and his fellows aren’t quite real: they appear to be ghosts. After solid people emerge from near the mountains and begin engaging various bus passengers, the narrator spends perhaps two-fifths of the book listening to their conversations. The real people — the “Solid People” — attempt to convince the “ghosts” to join them in a walk to the mountains. If you are already familiar with the general theme of the book, it becomes obvious that Lewis is using the bus passengers as means of explaining why people remain miserable in their non-surrender to Jesus. One grouch harangues his Solid guide for being a murderer and states that all he wants is his just deserts — he doesn’t want any “bleedin‘ charity”, at which point the solid asks him to please do accept the “Bleeding Charity”. I’m not sure if that pun is good or a groaner. Another ghost is a bubble-headed intellectual who would rather discuss intellectual matters than simply accept the “Truth” for what it is. Generally speaking, the fault of all of the ghosts that the narrator will observe is that they want heaven and God on their terms — not God’s.
Eventually the narrator gets his own visitor in the form of a Scottish theologian, at which point the narrator realizes that the shining place in the mountains is heaven and that the grey city is Hell — and further still, that people are only in Hell because they choose to remain there. Making the move to Heaven is as simple as accepting God on his own terms — which are never really defined: they seem to be whatever it is the ghosts dislike. Interestingly, the narrator is told several times that the life of the grey town will eventually end, and the consequences will not be pretty. Based on Mere Christianity, this seems to be a promotion of Lewis’ theology. As a story, it’s entertaining enough — but its theological content is another discussion entirely. Although Lewis’ view of hell is more humane than the traditional BBQ down under, I don’t really understand why God just doesn’t forcibly move these people to a place of safety: a parent who would allow their child to suffer through their own idiocy is doing them no favors by not interfering.
As for me, I prefer Kate Braestrup‘s view, so paraphrased: “If you’re living in love, or in the Christian view following Jesus, then wherever you are is heaven. If you’re not living in that love, though, then wherever you are — no matter how splendid — is hell.”
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The Miserable Mill

Posted on July 16, 2009 by smellincoffee
The Miserable Mill
© 2000 Lemony Snicket
194 pages

“You can’t stop me! Count Olaf always comes back for an encore!” – Count Olaf, deleted scenes from the movie.

When we last left the Baudelaire children, they had lost their parents, a lovable mentor, and a slightly batty aunt to the incorrigibly evil Count Olaf, who is determined to get his hands on the Baudelaire fortune. Despite their mishaps, the bureaucrat in charge of them insists on shoving them off on people without doing proper background checks. In The Miserable Mill’s case, the children are adopted by a man known only as “Sir”, who owns a lumber mill and keeps his employees working in conditions that would have shamed a medieval lord. The children are forced into work — stripping bark from trees is one task and given only five minutes and a stick of gum for lunch and coupons at the end of the day. Klaus is hypnotized by an optometrist that the kids are sure is in cahoots with Count Olaf — not that their new guardian, Mr. Poe, or anyone else would believe them. As the plot develops, it becomes clear that Count Olaf has thought of a new way to get possession of the kids — although why he persists is unclear, given that Mr. Poe made it clear in The Bad Beginning that Olaf isn’t eligible to receive any of the money. This book as something of a twist in that Violet and Klaus are forced to switch their respective roles as inventor and researcher when circumstances merit.
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This Week At the Library (15/7)

Posted on July 15, 2009 by smellincoffee
Books this Update:
  • The Bad Beginning, The Reptile Room, and The Wide Window; Lemony Snicket
  • The Time Machine, H.G. Wells
  • Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar, Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein
  • The Beginner’s Guide to Zen Buddhism, Jean Smith
  • Jennifer Government, Max Barry
  • Jesus, Marcus Borg
I started this week with the first three books in Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events, which detail the troubles that befall three orphans — Violet, Klaus, and Sunny — after their parents perish in a fire and they are sent from one inept adoptive parent to the next while being pursued by the incorrigibly evil Count Olaf, who wants the children’s money. I read the first three — as opposed to the first two or the first four — because they constitute the movie, which is what made me interested in the series to begin with. Although the books are written for kids, the tone makes it very readable for adults as well. The books were a delight, and I shall continue.
I also read H.G. Well’s classic The Time Machine, which happens to be the first science fiction story I ever read and which surprised me this week for its utter readability. The novella — concerning the Time Traveler’s tale of his trip some eight hundred thousand years in the future — was published in in 1890, but lacks the formal language classic works are prone to have. The concepts the story relies on are explained by the Time Traveler to his friends. While the work is an enjoyable piece of early science fiction, it also captures the mindset of its time — particularly the Traveler’s utopian predictions.
Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar was next, it being an attempt to combine philosophy and humor. Despite its small size, the authors attempt to cover philosophy as a whole — from metaphysics to art to social philosophy. They devote a chapter to each particular division of philosophy and work jokes into the text. Perhaps because of the size, the book doesn’t do justice to the content covered: I found their treatment of many topics to be silly to the point of shallow and dreadfully flat. Some of the jokes are clever, and some not so. I would not recommend this book as an introduction to philosophy.
I then read Jean Smith’s The Beginner’s Guide to Zen Buddhism, a very readable and fairly thorough introduction to Zen practice, ritual, and history. She explains not only Zen itself but Buddhism as a whole, stating that Zen and the other Buddhist schools of thought differ chiefly in which of the Eight Noble Truths they emphasize. Illustrations are used directly by the text, and Smith includes suggested reading and addresses of Zen centers for those interesting.
Max Barry’s Jennifer Government was next, and it was quite an entertaining read. The novel takes place in the possible near future (although published in 2003, the book is dated: some scenes feature people fighting over VCRs.) in a world where American corporations rule supreme, dominating the world — not just its markets — and subjugating the American people in a way that not even the most paranoid Green party member could imagine. People take their very identifies from their place of employ and corporations have access to artillery for what you might call “aggressive negotiations”*. The American government is almost a nonentity. The story that unfolds begins when fourteen teenagers are murdered by Nike-hired assassins in an attempt to prove that their new shows are worth dying for. Federal agent Jennifer Government attempts to track down the perpetrators while a host of other characters bound around pursuing their own agendas that fit into the main story. The novel is light-action that doubles as a criticism of corporate greed, consumer culture, and libertarian philosophy.
Lastly I read Marcus Borg’s Jesus, and was surprised by how much I enjoyed the book. Borg’s account is an attempt to find the human Jesus. He tries to build on a foundation that everyone can agree on, typically referring to the original “Q” source. He also builds on appropriate context — namely, Judea’s political, social, and religious reality that Jesus was surely shaped by and moved it. In emphasizing this context, Borg keeps his Jesus’ feet firmly on the ground: he never floats like a puppet whose strings are being pulled. Rather than rely on or deny supernatural interpretations, Borg relies heavily on pointing out metaphorical language — saying that while the words themselves might not be true, what they mean is. Rather than seeing the gospels as a collection of stories gathered for future generations — existing solely for the sake of those who follow — Borg points out that these stories must have had some importance for the people who collected them, and he writes much on this. After establishing background, he goes through the Gospels commenting on story after story and looking for both the literal and metaphorical meanings. In his epilogue, he comments further on traditional — that is, relying on holding certain beliefs — and emerging Christianity, the latter being following Jesus on “the Way”, just as a Taoist or Buddhist follow the “Way”. It is worth noting that Borg believes the major religions to be entirely human creations that develop in response to interactions with deity. I like what this book says about Borg as an author: never at any point did he insult my intelligence or make stretches of the imagination that weren’t mostly implausible — but never too does he lose touch with the fact that he’s dealing with texts that have a lot of emotional connection to people. I think fundamentalists and skeptics alike can enjoy this book, and recommend it.
Pick of the Week: Marcus Borg’s Jesus.
Next Week:
  • The Miserable Mill, The Austere Academy, and the Ersatz Elevator; Lemony Snicket. As mentioned, I’m continuing this funny little series. (Apparently he likes alliteration.)
  • The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis. Mere Christianity aside, Lewis has such a reputation that I’m going to read a little more and see if I can see what the fuss is about.
  • Company, Max Barry. I enjoyed Jennifer Government to the point that I will be reading more from the author.
  • Medieval Lives: Eight Charismatic Men and Women of the Middle Ages, Norman Cantor. It’s been a while since I read any history, and the medieval period is always interesting.
  • Drawing Down the Moon: Witches, Druids, Goddess-worshippers, and Other Pagans in America; Margaret Adler. Back in the late spring, I read a book on Wicca. I found it to be an interesting religion or lifestyle, and I want to continue reading on it.
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Jennifer Government

Posted on July 15, 2009 by smellincoffee
Jennifer Government
© 2003 Max Barry
321 pages
A number of years ago some friends and I began playing the online game “NationStates” in which users create a nation and make daily decisions to shape its progress (or descent). The game was created by the author of Jennifer Government, Max Barry, partially as a way to amuse himself and partially as a way to advertise the book. I checked Jennifer Government out back in the day but never got around to finishing it — but after returning to NationStates a month or so ago, I decided to look into Barry’s other work once more. Jennifer Government is set in a world where the worst nightmares of some and the greatest dreams of others have come to life — a world in which the government exists only to say “Hey, play nice!” and consumerism is god. Companies are more powerful than countries, especially as they join coalitions and sport private armies — one of which is the NRA. Jennifer Government‘s world is one in which scenes like this can happen:
“Nine-eleven Emergency, how can I help you?”
“I need an ambulance. Quickly, a girl has been shot at the Chadstone Wal-Mart mall.”
“Certainly, sir. Can you tell me the girl’s name?”
“Hayley. Hayley something. Please, come straight away.”
“Sir, I need to know if the victim is part of our register,” the operator said. “If she’s one of our clients, we’ll be there within a few minutes. Otherwise I’m happy to recommend — “
“I need an ambulance!” he shouted, and it was only when water splashed on [Buy’s] hand that he realized he had started to cry. “I’ll play for it, I don’t care, just come!”
“Do you have a credit card, sir?”
“Yes! Send someone now!”
“As soon as I confirm your ability to pay, sir. This will only take a few seconds.”
– p. 33
The girl — shot by a Nike-paid assassin along with thirteen other teenagers trying to buy the new Nike shoes in an operation planned to boost sales, dies as Buy struggles to communicate his credit-card number to the dispatcher. There are other scenes like this when the utter callousness of Barry’s world makes itself known — like when Buy goes to an NRA store to purchase a gun and asks for the kind of pistol that might be best for suicide. The clerk cheerfully recommends a certain kind, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this man is planning on taking his life. People have been reduced by the corporate world to the point that they take their last names from their place of employ, and children take theirs from whichever company sponsors their school — as the government is so reduced in power that it can only commence investigations as long as a private citizen is willing to pay.
Although the novel is a light-action thriller with some comedic aspects, it doubles as a critique of consumer culture now and what libertarianism might allow. The novel begins with Nike’s “promotional campaign”, at which point we are introduced to a host of characters: Hack Nike, a downtrodden cubicle-dweller who is tricked into doing the job (and who can’t, so he subtracts it to the Police); Buy Mitsui, a French stock broker who moved to Australia (part of the United States, as are the Americas, India, Polynesia, and Oceania), who inadvertently causes the death of a young girl when he gives her money to buy the new Nike shoes, shoes she will soon die for; and Jennifer Government, the advertiser-turned-federal-agent who attempts to get to the bottom of the murders — not only for the sake of the young people murdered, but because she harbors a vendetta against the man who engineered all of this, John Nike.
The book generally reads rather quickly, and the setting of course is quite interesting. I think I shall be reading more of Max Barry.
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Jesus

Posted on July 14, 2009 by smellincoffee
Jesus: Uncovering the Life, Teachings, and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary
© 1989 Marcus Borg
343 pages
Marcus Borg is one of the two theologians who interested me in attempts to humanize Christianity and in the works of men like himself, Albert Schweitzer, and Shelby Spong. I looked forward to reading this book, but did not anticipate enjoying it as much as I did. Rather than simply creating a narrative from portions of the Christian gospels and promoting it, Borg attempts to distill all the information we possess to the point that a hypothetical “nonpapal conclave” composed of a Catholic, a Protestant, a Jew, and an atheist could agree on the story being told.
Before he does so, however, Borg establishes background by analyzing the information at hand and the interpretations thus far, categorizing the viewpoints into general categories and writing at length on the texts themselves. More importantly, he offers a historical and social analysis of the Roman Empire and the religious world of Judea — something I find lacking in many books and that I was most pleased to see here. Jesus and his followers would have been shaped by the culture they lived in, and I’m glad that Borg emphasizes the importance of context.
What follows then is an examination of the gospel accounts: Borg divides them into three portions — Jesus’ early ministry in Galilee, his last days in Jerusalem, and the road between the two. As he writes, he refers back to the contexts he established and to the important of symbolic language. What unfolds is a genuinely fair treatment of the Gospels: when I looked at the back of the book and saw it advertised as a “unifying vision for a critical time,” I scoffed because I figured the interpretations of Jesus are so varied that unifying them would be like unifying humanity — probably impossible. To my surprise, however, the book neither insults rationality nor belief. When examining accounts of the miraculous, for instance, Borg does not spend time debating on if these things happened or not: he prefers to address the importance these stories held for the first people to tell them. What does it tell us about Jesus that they would say these things about him? A common theme is the importance of metaphor. What strikes me about Borg’s tone is his gentleness: he refuses even to label the Pharisees or Romans as evil even when acknowledging that they did disagreeable things. “You and I might enjoy the Pharisees’ company”, he comments, “and the Roman Empire was considerably better to live in than any other nation-state at the same time.” The Pharisees and Romans were both trapped by the economic-governmental system that they were born in.
The book isn’t wholly unifying, but I don’t suppose it could be. Borg believes there are two general types of Christians: those who place importance on holding particular beliefs, and those who place importance on living in a certain way — on following Jesus on the Path, just as a Taoist follows the way of Lao Tzu and a Buddhist the way of Siddhartha Gautama. The latter Christianity is one Borg identifies as having been emerging since the 17th century. In his last chapter, he looks at how traditional/authoritative and emerging Christianity are shaping up in the United States. While admitting concern over the success of the Religious Right, he points out that mainstream Christianity’s fading-away is not necessarily a bad thing: it is simply the decay of imperial Christianity, and will ultimately free Christianity to be the lifestyle-changing religion it first was. Here I wonder if Borg has ever heard of Shane Claiborne: from what I’ve heard of Claiborne (thanks for the recommendation, Pom-Pom), I think the two would get along.
I enjoyed the book immensely and recommend it without reservation.
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The Beginner’s Guide to Zen Buddhism

Posted on July 12, 2009 by smellincoffee

The Beginner’s Guide to Zen Buddhism
© 2000 Jean Smith
190 pages

Not knowing what distinguishes Zen Buddhism from Buddhism as a whole, I decided to read this quite accessible little book about the basics. Author Jean Smith does this fairly well, I think. Although I would be made to claim a comprehensive knowledge of Buddhist beliefs and practices, I’ve never encountered anything in another book that was not at least mentioned here. Perhaps appropriately, she begins the book by concentrating on the practice of zazen, or Zen meditation. This is a particular form of meditation relying on particular sitting positions and techniques and must — according to her — become part of daily, or at least weekly. Illustrations are used effectively: what pictures that are here are used directly by the text, instead of functioning as “extras” that give the reader a rest from nonstop text. The first pictures used are of the author (I presume) demonstrating several appropriate sitting positions for zazen.

She then moves onto the importance of the sangha, or community, and the Zen practitioner’s relationship with his or her teacher. Smith places a lot of emphasis on the need for a teacher, which I found surprising. She then includes a short history of Buddhism’s spread and development from India into China, Vietnam, Korea, Japan, and finally the United States, after which she writes on the Four Noble Truths, the Eight-Fold Path, and other teachings. This approach — specifics before background — is the reverse of what I expected, but I think it works. It is here that she states that what makes the separate schools of thought in Buddhism distinct from one another is which parts of the Eight-Fold path they place emphasis on. Zen’s emphasis, she explains is on “right mindfulness and concentration“. The book ends with thoughts on Zen in everyday life and a chapter of frequently-asked questions. Smith includes a list of suggested reading and a directory of Zen centers in the United States.

Overall, I found the book to be enjoyable and informing reading. I was surprised by the picture of Zen painted here: I did not anticipate the importance of ritual and such. My only detractory comment would be that Smith doesn’t seem to offer any explanation for the preservation of rituals and chants and so forth aside from “It’s part of the Zen Tradition.” I know of possible explanations for these things — chants serving to quiet the mind for the purposes of meditation, for instance — but they were not mentioned.
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The Wide Window

Posted on July 10, 2009 by smellincoffee

“It’s miraculous!” Klaus cried, as the flame took hold.
“It’s unbelievable!” Aunt Josephine cried.
“Fonti!” Sunny shrieked.
“It’s the scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light!” Violet cried, wiping her eyes.
– page 180

The Wide Window finishes the three books that constitute Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, although the stories told unfold in a slightly different way. Once again the Baudelaire orphans are taken to a new home — one would hope a safer one. Alas, the home in particular hangs over a leech-filled lake, held up only by a few rotten beams. Their “Aunt” Josephine is positively neurotic, terrified of everything from falling sofas to realtors. The titular wide window resides in Aunt Josephine’s library (a large collection of books on grammar) and overlooks the lakeside. If living with Aunt Josephine wasn’t unpleasant enough — with her various neuroses and her obsession with grammar — the kids soon realize that Count Olaf is in pursuit of them, now in the guise of the aptly-named Captain Sham.

It is needless to say that Count Olaf once again connives a plan to make the Baudelaire orphans and their fortune his that is once again foiled by the constantly-maligned orphans — although this time Olaf’s plan is a touch more sophisticated than “Kill the legal guardian and take the kids”. It involves a forged letter and preying on the terror of Aunt Josephine. Although I already know how the story would unfold — this is part of the movie — I still enjoyed reading the book, as the narration is fun to read. Lemony Snicket’s humor is often dry, ironic, and a little subversive in that he talks to children as people instead of as children. Assuming the books are present in the library next week, I will be continuing in the series.

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Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar

Posted on July 10, 2009 by smellincoffee

Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar: Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes
© 2007 Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein
208 pages

I was quickly taken in by this book’s title, and was also interested in the intersection of philosophy and humor. The book attempts to be (and is, somewhat) both an introductory survey to philosophy in general while using jokes to demonstrate it. Although the authors do explain the meaning and (sometimes) relevance of philosophical matters, they do this in a silly and simple way that borders on being shallow and is definitely simplistic. Although I did encounter concepts I’d never heard of before — thus learning something — I found the treatment of many topics to be shamefully flat. Judging by the comments on Amazon, newcomers to philosophy find the book enjoyable, but I would not reccommend it as an introduction: the “…for Dummies” or “Complete Idiot’s Guide to….” philosophy books are probably superior. Still, some of the jokes are funny and at least at the beginning do demonstrate philosophy. As the book wears on, they go from being “relevant” to being “somewhat related”. The philosophy tag attached to this post should have quotation marks. If you read this, please do so with a large bag of iodine salt nearby.

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The Reptile Room

Posted on July 9, 2009 by smellincoffee

Count Olaf (as Stephano): Hello, I’m looking for Dr.Montgomery Montgomery. My name is Stephano, I am an Italian man.
Violet: You’re Count Olaf.
[…]
Count Olaf (as Stephano): Dammit. This was such a good character….
– from the movie.

When the bad beginning ended, the Baudelaire orphans — having become so when their parents caught fire — had managed to escape the clutches of their evil guardian Count Olaf when he shot himself in the foot. (Not literally — the book series may have ended then if that were the case.) Despite Olaf admitting to various crimes, his henchmen and he managed to escape the law’s clutches. Mr. Poe, the executor of the bank’s will (who author Lemony Snicket referred to as feeling like an “executioner” because he kept putting the children in danger), brings the children to their next-closest relative, a herpetologist who lives in the comparative middle of nowhere with a library and lots of snakes to keep him company.

Although snakes are often associated with villainy, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery (known to the kids as “Uncle Monty”) is a kind and generous fellow who values the children and immediately makes them at home. Lest we feel good for the orphans, our narrator informs us that soon they will once again be miserable and Uncle Monty will be quite dead. This comes about when Count Olaf becomes part of their lives once more under the guise of Uncle Monty’s lab assistant. Stephano/Count Olaf almost spirits the children away, but once more their courage and inventiveness allow them to escape from his clutches.

The book series remains humorous despite its dark nature, and The Reptile Room is as enjoyable as its predecessor.

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