The Best of 2008

Posted on January 8, 2009 by smellincoffee

At the close of last year, I reflected on the previous years’ reading and commented on some of the most memorable books. Now that another year has passed, I find myself doing the same again. The amount of commentary to reflect on has more than doubled, though, so I will not use the same approach as last time: in my first draft of this, I only got to September before realizing my review post was excessively long. Before I begin to write about the books, though, I want to say a few words about the blog itself. When I began this in summer 2007, it was a very informal affair: I wrote about my physical trip to the library in journal form, including thoughts to myself as I drove through town. As the year wore on, though, I began to make it more ordered and it eventually arrived at the form you see it now: I begin and end each entry with a bulleted list of reading, for instance, to keep things organized. Back in October I made a major format change when I started writing individual comments on the books I read, instead of having to cram everything into a weekly review post. I still write the weekly review posts, but they are only really for my MySpace readers. All in all, I’m satisfied with the way this blog has developed. I want to make my individual comments more thoughtful and more like informal reviews, but all in all, it seems my effort here has ‘matured’. I am unsure as to how many people read this: I began this because I have a circle of friends with whom I exchange book recommendations, and they read it it and talk about the books with me on IM and in person. I receive many views on MySpace entries as well. For those who visit periodically, I would welcome feedback as to how you have received these changes in format and organization. Do you have any suggestions?

And, so, to the books. I begin with Harry Turtledove‘s so-called “Southern Victory” series, an extended alternate history series beginning in 1863 (with the confederacy winning the American Civil War) and going to 1946. This series was my reading for the early part of the year. In it, Turtledove develops the history of the world as it might happen had the confederacy won. It changes how Americans deal with one another and how they deal with European powers, which has consequences. Turtledove covers economic, social, military, and governmental changes, letting them shape the others — it’s a grand story. The series is both interesting and entertaining, and lead to me reading even more Turtledove (The Two Georges, the Worldwar series, and the Colonization series I’ve yet to finish).

In unrelated fiction, one fantastic book was The Confessions of Max Tivoli, by Andrew Sean Greer. This book is the most tragic and most beautifully written book I’ve ever read, I think. The title character, born in 1871, has a problem: he ages in reverse. While born a baby, he was born a very old baby, and as he grows “up” the oldness of him becomes more clear. He eventually reaches adult height in late childhood. Tivoli will throughout his life age in reverse, becoming more youthful in appearance as he grows in maturity. What dominates Tivoli is his love for Alice, with whom he falls in love as a child. Since he, as a child, looks like an adult, you can imagine the difficulty. Charles Dickins‘ A Christmas Carol, which I read during Thanksgiving, was one of the most captivating reads I’ve ever had. I love the story: not only is it written well, with humor and passion, but it’s tremendously inspirational to me. Yet another captivating fiction book was The Blood of Flowers, by Anita Amirrezvani. The author wrote the book as a memorial to the people who wove the world’s most beautiful rugs — the Persian artisans of the 17th century. Good stuff.

Some notable science books I read this year were Darwin’s Ghost, a 21st century version of Darwin’s Origin of Species. I also read Darwin’s original, with commentary by biologist Richard Leakey. Darwin, while writing in the 19th century, is a good writer and a remarkable methodical scientist. I also read two biographies of Darwin, who comes across as inspirational: he loved life, was entranced by the mysteries of nature, and was devoted to his family and his discipline. Of the two biographies, I recommend either. Two other science books of note were Richard Dawkins‘ The Selfish Gene, which introduced me to the gene-centered view of evolution and at the same time gave culture a biological treatment, and Steven Pinker’s The Blank Slate, which might be his contribution to the nature/nurture argument. His argument is more gene-centered than I am comfortable with (being aware of the power of ideas), but very provocative. I can’t very well comment on science books without mentioning Spangenburg and Moser’s two History of Science series, both of which I read straight through — mostly during the summer. The books made me interested in the history of science. They write well and very clearly. Thanks to them, I have more scientific literacy now that I ever have before.

Speaking of provocation, there were a couple of books that completely changed my thinking. Neil Postman’s Technopoly was the most important. Fully titled, it is Technopoly: the Surrender of Culture to Technology. It is a work of social criticism, as Postman examines the way technology has changed the way we think about things. He examines technology’s role in human societies throughout history, labeling the current period as becoming a technopoly, where people are monopolized by ideas that have come about thanks to our reliance on machines. One is an obsession with efficiency. This book really changed my thinking and made me something of a cynic about technology and consumption when I began considering his arguments.

In a similar vein was Sharon Lebell’s The Art of Living, a modern translation of Epictetus’ Discourses and Manual for Living. Epictetus’ practical philosophy of Stoicism has become part of my own worldview. Another book that was not quite as provocative was Frances and Joseph Gies‘ Cathedral, Forge, and Waterwheel, which promotes the idea that the medieval era was not a prolonged period of complete intellectual stagnation, but that in fact that technology did continue to develop, albeit slowly, in this period. Another book is the biography of Emilie Carles, a French peasant woman who lived in the opening years of the 20th century. From her origins as a farm girl discouraged against going to school, we see her mature into a thoughtful intellectual who comments on the historically and socially busy opening decades of the 20th century. Through her eyes ,we see agrarianism give way to industrialism: we see the two world wars and their consequences. I thought it was fantastic. Also, I should mention Marx’s The Communist Manifesto and Richard Pipes’ Communism, both of which were helpful in understanding one of the big ideas of the 20th century.

Finally, 2008 was the Year of Asimov. Holy wow, did I read a lot of Asimov this year. I began with a a book of short stories during spring break, and I returned to them when the summer began. A lot of the short stories were science fiction, but my favorites were the Black Widower stories. After I exhausted my library’s complement of Asimovian short stories, I began the Foundation series, which was tremendously good story-telling, in my opinion. Asimov does write in a grandiose style: his emphasis is on the story, not his vocabulary. The Foundation series is a political, historical, and sociological epic set in deep space. Foundation, Foundation’s Edge, Foundation and Earth, Prelude to Foundation, and Forward the Foundation were some of my favorites from this series. I also read Asimovian nonfiction, most notably his Asimov’s Guide to the Bible. I only read the first volume, but I am trying to find the second volume. In 2008, Isaac Asimov became my favorite author. I read two of his biographies (It’s Been a Good Life and I, Asimov) and have loved knowing the man through his works and interviews. When speaking of Asimov’s Mysteries, I wrote “My only complaint is that the book ended. If I’m wrong about the existence of the gods and I die to find myself at the Elysian Fields, I hope they have a library stocked with Asimov’s complete works. Anyway, in conclusion, Asimov rocks my socks off.”

It was quite a year for reading — over a hundred and fifty books. I probably read more this year than I ever have or ever will.

Honorable Mentions:

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The Sea of Monsters

Posted on January 6, 2009 by smellincoffee

The Sea of Monsters
© 2006 Rick Riordian
279 pages

I continued in the “Percy Jackson and the Olympians” series this week with book #2, The Sea of Monsters. Percy Jackson is now in seventh grade, but is troubled by bad dreams. After he and a new friend (Tyson) are attacked by pyromanic cannibals and rescued by Annabeth, they head for Camp Half-Blood. Sadly, it seems to be be in trouble: the magic protecting it from being attacked by all sorts of monsters is fading. Percy’s bad dreams — involving his satyr friend Grover being in trouble — continue. Once at camp, and after Percy and company dispatch a few monsters, Hermes pays a visit to Percy and tells him that he has to help Grover. The attack on the camp’s magic and Grover’s predicament — which involves a wedding, for some reason — seem to be connected, and soon we find that Percy must journey to the Sea of Monsters to rescue Grover and find the solution to their problem. While I won’t reveal what the solution is, let’s just say that Percy’s full name — Perseus — is appropriate.

The solution to both lays in the Sea of Monsters, which is the sea that Odysseus spent so much time marooned on. It, like Olympus and Hades, moves with western civilization, and now lies in the Bermuda Triangle. To find Grover, they have to get past some of the same obstacles Odysseus faced, including Circe, who takes “Men are pigs” far too literally. They’re also being accompanied by one of Ares’ daughters, Clarisse, who is a bit ill-tempered. She actually takes the same journey on a Confederate ironclad, manned by dead Confederate soldiers. This is possibly the weirdest plot development I’ve ever seen. At journey’s end, Percy encounters Polyphemus, the cyclopes who Odysseus fooled. Riordian references this repeatedly, with amusing results.

The second book in the series was another fun little book. The story wasn’t as engaging as the first, but the characterization and so forth were done better. I intentionally didn’t mention major parts of the book, because one of my readers is actually reading the series, and so I wanted to avoid spoilers. I will continue in the series. On one minor note, on one occasion two characters needed to find an awful noise to scare away a monster. They settled on Dean Martin, which amused me given how much I like Dean Martin. I wonder if the author is a fan, and if he included that part as a bit of self-depreciation — or maybe he just wants to poison an entire generation of children against Italian crooners.

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This Week at the Library (5/1)

Posted on January 5, 2009 by smellincoffee

Books this Update:

I began this week with a recommended book by Rick Riordian, called The Lightning Thief. The book is a work of fantasy, set in a world where the Greek gods and all of the mythology that surrounds them are real. The book is part of a series called Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and the title character is named after Perseus, a Greek hero of old who rescued the Golden Fleece. Young Percy Jackson, like Perseus and Heracles, is a Hero: a demi-god, a half-blood. His mother was a human and his father a god — although which god is in question for the first part of the book. Jackson discovers that he belongs to a different world — a world of magic and ideals. The Greek gods, nurturers of western civilization, are being challenged by the old Titans, who — if you remember your Greek mythology — were deposed by the gods and stashed into pits and under volcanoes and so on. Percy, owing to his father’s identity, is caught up in this epic battle between evil and…not-evil. Aside from some odd quirks (virgin gods having children with mortals, the odd Roman name for a god thrown in here and there), I found the book to be enjoyable. It’s a frivolous narrative that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and is quite imaginative besides. I will be reading the rest of the series.

Next I delved into a little philosophy. The Four Agreements is a “Toltec wisdom book”. The author purports to be descended a long line of Toltec philosopher-priest-kings who once had to conceal their wisdom for fear of it being improperly used. Fortunately for us, there was also a prophecy that one that the world would be ready for such wisdom, and that day is now. The result is The Four Agreements, which is a little philosophy saturated with New Age talk. His ideas, if rescued from all of the “Woo” and rhetoric, aren’t actually too bad. I found some aspects of them similar to Buddhist ideas. His four agreements, by the way, are:

  • Be impeccable with your word.
  • Don’t take anything personally.
  • Don’t make assumptions.
  • Do your best.

It was an interesting book. Sometimes amusing (for the wrong reasons), sometimes thought-provoking. All in all, though, I’d recommend The Art of Living over this, though.

Next I read Darth Bane: Path of Destruction. It is, as you might imagine, a Star Wars book, set in the days of the Old Republic. (That would be the one whose downfall is depicted in the prequel Star Wars trilogy. ) This book is not set during the prequel period, though. According to a Star Wars wiki, it is set a thousand years before A New Hope. Here, the Sith and the Jedi are fighting for control of the Galaxy. The Sith want to destroy the Republic and set up their own government, while the Jedi defend the republic. The story is told from the eyes of Des, a young miner (“Miners, not minors!”) who feels abandoned by all of the ideals of the Republic and the Jedi. The author does make Des — who will later become Darth Bane — sympathetic. While Star Wars fans are used to the idea of the Sith numbering two (“Always two there are. A master and apprentice.”), here they number in the thousands — to the point where an army of them can be assembled. I found the story to be very interesting. The author has a talented for characterization and for story-telling in general.

Lastly, I read Great Books by David Denby. It’s the lone serious work this week, but there was a lot to it. Author David Denby, a film critic for New York magazine, returns to Columbia University to sample its Great Books courses, which examine the so-called western “canon”: books like Homer’s epic poems, Virgil’s plays, Aristotle’s philosophy, Hobbes and Locke’s ideas on government, and so on. There are many threads woven into the book: he book consists of several interwoven narratives. In the primary narrative, we experience school through Denby’s eyes. He writes on the teachers’ approaches, the attitudes of his classmates, the stress of exams. He compares his experience in the mid-90s (which is when this book was written) to his experience in the sixties. Connected to this narrative, but distinct from it, is another story: the way these “great books” shaped him as a freshman, and how they shape him now as a member of the “bourgeoisie“. (He applies the label to himself.) He recalls moments from his life and connects them to the themes of the books. The theme-based narrative is another major one. His teachers focus more on the meanings of the story, derived from the culture they were set in. They also concentrate on how the various great books shape the others: Virgil reading Homer, Marx reading Hegel, etc. Yet another story that Denby tells is a critical one: he examines western culture, looks at the way it has changed from the times of the various authors and how it has changed from his beginnings. He weaves all of the above together while at the same time examining claims that the western canon is exclusionary and doesn’t represent the modern western mind or doesn’t take women and marginalized political/ethnic groups into consideration. It’s a meaty book, and will interest anyone that takes books and literature seriously.

Pick of the Week: Hard to say. Darth Bane: the Path of Destruction was the most fun to read, but Great Books was the most intellectually stimulating.

Next Week:

  • The Sea of Monsters, Rick Riordian
  • Darth Bane: The Rule of Two, Drew Karpyshyn
  • Atom, Isaac Asimov

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Great Books

Posted on January 5, 2009 by smellincoffee

Great Books: My Adventures with Homer, Rousseau, Woolf, and Other Indestructible Writers of the Western World
© 1996 David Denby
491 pages + bibliography and index

My local library has display shelves attached to the end of book cases, and the books featured there change every so often. Sometimes there is a theme to the books being displayed, other times not. These books invariably catch my eye and sometimes I check them out. Such was the case with Storms from the Sun, for instance, and such was the case for this particular book. In the book, a film critic for New York magazine returns to Columbia University to observe sections of its Literature Humanities and Contemporary Civilization classes, so-called “Great Books” courses that focus on the “canon” of Western civilization — beginning with Homer and ending with Virginia Woolf. Along the way, the canon involves a little of everything — from history to economics to sociological theory to literature.

The book consists of several interwoven narratives. Denby, upon hearing criticisms from the “academic left”, decides to experience the “great books” courses again to re-examine the canon for himself. He took those classes in the 1960s, but he’s forgotten most of what he learned there. In this primary narrative, we experience school through Denby’s eyes. He writes on the teachers’ approaches, the attitudes of his classmates, the stress of exams. He compares his experience in the mid-90s (which is when this book was written) to his experience in the sixties. Connected to this narrative, but distinct from it, is another story: the way these “great books” shaped him as a freshman, and how they shape him now as a member of the “bourgeaise”. (He applies the label to himself.) He recalls moments from his life and connects them to the themes of the books. The theme-based narrative is another major one. His teachers focus more on the meanings of the story, derived from the culture they were set in. They also concentrate on how the various great books shape the others: Virgil reading Homer, Marx reading Hegel, etc. Yet another story that Denby tells is a critical one: he examines western culture, looks at the way it has changed from the times of the various authors and how it has changed from his beginnings.

There’s a lot to this book. He weaves all of the above together while at the same time examining claims that the western canon is exclusionary and doesn’t represent the modern western mind or doesn’t take women and marginalized political/ethnic groups into consideration. It’s a meaty book, and will interest anyone that takes books and literature seriously.

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Darth Bane: Path of Destruction

Posted on December 30, 2008 by smellincoffee

Darth Bane: Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic
© Drew Karpyshyn 2006
324 pages

The Star Wars story is not limited to the two trilogies: books, video games, and other media create an Extended Universe deemed canon by LucasArts. People have been writing books and fleshing out the history of the Star Wars universe. This book is set — according to Wookiepedia, a Star Wars wiki — a thousand years before Luke Skywalker blows up the Death Star in A New Hope. That action (“The Battle of Yavin”) is the Star Wars universe’s calendar’s origin: events are labeled as being B- and A- BY, or “Before” and “After” the Battle of Yavin. In that time, according to the intro flap of the book, the Sith numbered in the thousands and they fought the Republic and its guardians, the Jedi, for control of the Galaxy.

The book is set during that battle, although for the first third of the book it is pure background. The first third of the book takes place on a small mining moon. Its lone settlement is the Star Wars equivalent of a Pullman town: the workers work all day for Pullman, they sleep in Pullman homes, they buy their supplies at the company store. The company uses its power to its advantage, and workers often become deeply indebted to the company and become literal wage-slaves. This is a man called Des’ spot in life: thanks to his father’s gambling debts, he works all day in abysmal conditions, with no hope of escape. Republic transports come through and ocassionally lure the miners into joining the Army of the Republic, but little do they know that their wages will be garnished to pay the SW-Pullman company. The Jedi are not concerned with the plight of the workers, and it is this that makes Des resentful and contemptuous of both the Republic and the Jedi.

Circumstances beyond his control turn Des into an outlaw, and he seeks refuge in the armies of the Sith, who are fighting a war against the Republic. His ability to use the Force is strong, and is quickly noticed by Sith lords, who reccommend him to the academy of the Sith Masters. There, he learns the ways of the Dark Side and begins to forge his own destiny. This book and the book that follows is his story. He adopts his father’s contemptous name for him — Bane — as his own name. The story woven is rather captivating. This is a different universe, almost, than the one we see in the trilogies. The Sith here are not the sophisticated masters of evil that Palpatine and Darth Maul are: they’re unrefined, crude almost. They struggle to recreate themselves in hopes of gaining more power.

The author shows Darth Bane’s progession from a bitter, abused, but socially healthy miner to a Master of the Dark Side, capable of murdering whoever gets in his way. It took three movies to do this for Darth Vader, but here the author is limited to one book. He succeeds, though, and fairly well. The journey to the dark side is not a smoothly-running one: Bane will moralize with himself, attempting to figure out what is happening to him. The author does a fairly good job of building his character, but of course the readers know where it will lead. Along the way we meet interesting characters, which of whom are struggling with their own issues. The various personal and political struggles meet their climax in the Battle for Rusan, where an army of Jedi and an army of Sith fight a bitter battle to the end, where both sides are beginning to lose track of the ideologies that bring them there.

In sum, a captivating story that is well written and a worthy contribution to the Star Wars universe. I enjoyed it more than I have many other SW novels.

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The Four Agreements

Posted on December 29, 2008 by smellincoffee

The Four Agreements: A Toltec Wisdom Book
© 1997 Don Miguel Ruiz
15o pages

The Four Agreements is one of those books I discovered rather randomly while clicking about in my public library’s category system. My curiosity was piqued by the TOLTEC PHILOSOPHY description. Being interested in both Mesoamerican history and philosophy, I decided to get it a go. The book begins by describing the Toltecs*, who were according to the author a society of a scientists and artists who got together to preserve the knowledge of the ancients. Fearing abuse of it, however, they deliberately kept it hidden, teaching it only to their sons who would then pass it on to their sons. Prophecies said that one day the time would come when the wisdom of the Toltecs could be shared freely. Fortunately for the reader, “Don Miguel Ruiz” happens to come from that line of priests. Aren’t we lucky?

What follows is a lengthy introduction and a chapter of New Age cosmology. All is God, God is all, we are all God, etc. I don’t have a bastard clue as to how it’s supposed to fit into the rest of the book. In the first chapter, Ruiz lays out his central idea: everything is a dream. We’re constantly dreaming, even when we’re awake. All that we call reality is in fact a dream. This entire chapter appears to me to be an explanation of how socialization works, wrapped — smothered — in New Age garb. After this is a bit of New Age psychology, which explains the effect of this socialization, or “human domestication” as Ruiz terms it. According to him, our minds have a Judge and a Victim: our Judge judges us based on our Book of Law, the summation of all our learned behavior, and determines that we are to feel bad when we break the rules. The Victim is the part of our psyche that “carries the blame, the guilt, and the shame” and detracts from our self image. The result, Ruiz says, is that we create hell for ourselves and others: our judges are constantly criticizing ourselves and others while their judges criticize us. Everyone is miserable because they’re ruled by fear of not being who they’re “supposed” to be. The foundation for this is that people agree that this is the way this ought to be, and Ruiz writes that what we need to do is disregard these old agreements and replace them with new ones: the Four Agreements.

The First Agreement is “Be impeccable with your word”. Ruiz reads a lot into the power of words: “Every human is a magician, and we can either put a spell on someone with our word or we can release someone from a spell. We cast spells all the time with our opinions. An example: I see a friend and give him an opinion that just popped into my mind. I say, “Hmm! I see that kind of color in your face in people who are going to get cancer.” If he listens to the word, and if he agrees, he will have cancer in less than one year.” Ruiz’ opinion is that our word is super-powerful and that we should use it very carefully — use it to cast “white magic” and not “black magic”. If you boil away all of the mysticism, you can arrive at an agreeable principle: what we say does impact other people and we should be mindful of what we say. Not that we’ll cast a “spell” on them, but we can cause pain.

The Second Agreement is “Don’t take it personally”, in which Ruiz states that anything anyone does to you is done for them: if they compliment you, it’s because they’re happy. If they tear you down, it’s because they’re angry. Because they are doing this for their sake and not for yours, you should not take it personally, even if — and he uses this example — someone shoots you in the head. This chapter is quite short.

The Third Agreement is “Don’t make assumptions”. This is valid advice, I think, and he makes the point that many problems can be avoided if people stick to operating on what they know instead of what they’re reading into a situation. This chapter is about clear communication, for the most part.

The Fourth Agreement is “Do your best”, in which he advocates living in the moment and doing your best to excel in what you do. Oddly, the amount of newage language fades as we go through the Agreements to the point where this chapter is practically bereft of them. There is a thoughtful anecdote in this one, though:

There was a man who wanted to transcend his suffering so he went to a Buddhist temple to find a Master to help him. He went to the Master and asked, “Master, if I meditate for four hours a day, how long will it take me to transcend?”
The master looked at him and said, “If you meditate four hours a day, perhaps you will transcend in ten years.”
Thinking he could do better, the man then said, “Oh, Master, what if I meditated eight hours a day., how long will it take me to transcend?”
The Master looked at him and said, “If you meditate eight hours a day, perhaps you will transcend in twenty years.”
“But why will it take me longer if I meditate more?” the man asked.
The Master replied, “You are not here to sacrifice your joy or your life. You are here to live, to be happy, and to love. If you can do yoru best in two hours of meditation, but you spend eight hours instead, you will only grow tired, miss the point, and you won’t enjoy your life. Do your best, and pehaps you will learn that no matter how long you meditate, you can live, love, and be happy.”

Following this is a chapter called “The Toltec Path to Freedom” which involves breaking old agreements and adopting the new Agreements. There are three ways to become a Toltec: the first is to become aware of the dreams (or socialized beliefs) that hold us. The second is the “Mastery of Transformation” in which people become aware of how to change and free themselves from those old beliefs. The third way is to die to the old self, to kill the “parasites” of the old beliefs. The concluding chapter, “Heaven on Earth”, sees the author speculating on how people can create heaven on Earth if they practice the Toltec Path. The book ends with a few prayers to the “Creator” and advertisements for Ruiz’ other books, to better practice.

If you can strip away all of the New Age coverings, you can find a philosophy here that is similar to Stoicism or Buddhism in some respects. The problem is that there’s so much of the newage stuff. This book has been checked out about a dozen times, according to the “Date Due” paper in the back — and phrases were underlined by previous readers. My mind goes to them, and I wonder — wherever they are — if this has helped them. The kind of philosophy under all of the newage soup is good stuff, and is practiced by many people throughout the globe to their betterment. It’s an interesting book. If philosophy is your interest and you don’t mind wading through a lot of “woo” for some interesting thoughts to ponder, you may want to give it a go.

* The actual identity of the Toltecs is unknown. According to Aztec myths, they were a race of people (the children of the gods) living in northern Mexico who gave birth to the Aztecs.

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The Lightning Thief

Posted on December 29, 2008 by smellincoffee

The Lightning Thief
© 2005 Rick Riordan
375 pages

I began this week with Rick Riordan’s The Lightning Thief, a recommendation from a friend. The Lightening Thief is work of fantasy-fiction, set in a world where the Greek gods are real and ruling over the affairs of mortals — and, like in the days of Heracles and Perseus, are ever-busy chasing mortal skirts and siring half-god half-mortal offspring, called (appropriately enough) half-bloods. The book is the first in a series of books for children and young adults called Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Percy Jackson — Perseus Jackson in full — is our hero (a term that originally applied to the mortal sons of the gods like Heracles), and when the book begins he has no idea who he is. He will soon find out, though, as he flees from Furies and Minotaurs who want to destroy him. Forced by circumstances beyond their control, the young Percy’s protectors are forced to bring him to Camp Half-Blood so that he may learn who he is — and his destiny.

Young Percy has entered an extraordinary world, but like Harry Potter as entered it at a rather inconvenient time: darkness is stirring, and an epic battle between good — or at least, not evil — and evil is about to begin. As Percy learns about his identity as a demigod and his new role in relation to the world, he will be caught up in this struggle, beginning with being tasked with returning Zeus’ thunderbolt to him, which someone else has stolen. Percy will engage in his adventure accompanied by Annabeth, a daughter of Athena, and a satyr named Grover. Once they set off, it’s hard not to compare the book to Harry Potter: here we have a young protagonist who is constantly in trouble with the “real world” because of his abilities, who is whisked away to his kind’s hideaway to learn about his “heritage”, who is forced to take an active role in the growing battle because of who his parents were, who is aided by an intellectual girl and an endearing if somewhat clumsy sidekick.

The story was published by a company that does books for older children, although I was told it was a Young Adult book. It’s a fun story to read, if not as “sophisticated” as the Harry Potter books. I enjoyed the story, but unlike the Harry Potter books, it did remind me of the books I read as a child. Beyond that, my only real trouble with the book was the idea that all of the gods were involved in accidentally impregnating mortals — including gods like Athena, who are supposedly virginal. Athena’s virginity isn’t up for discussion, either: the Greeks built a temple to her and called it the Parthenon (from the Greek word for “virgin”) in her honor. Interestingly, the author paints the Greek gods as being deeply involved in western civilization, so much to the point that they move Olympus and Hades every time the heart of western civilization moves. One character says that Olympus has been in Germany, France, Spain (for a time), England (for a long while), and is now in the United States. Despite this, the Pantheon maintains its Greek origins: demigods are dyslexic in all languages but ancient Greek and understand Greek automatically. The currency of choice is Drachmas.

One of the more entertaining aspects of the book is how the gods have changed as western civilization has changed. Zeus dresses in a business suit, Ares as a biker. The gods constantly comment on humans and their relationship to them. One repeated commented is that humans have a spectacular talent for interpreting what happens to them according to what they already believe. There’s also a slight environmental message in the book: Grover constantly laments about the way humans are treating the wilderness, and says that these abuses will only cease when Pan (protector of wilderness) is found by the satyrs and wakened from his lengthy sleep.

All in all, a fun little story. I enjoyed it and look forward to reading other books in the series.

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This Week at the Library (29/12)

Posted on December 29, 2008 by smellincoffee

Books this Update:

  • The Caves of Steel, Isaac Asimov
  • Asimov’s Guide to the Bible Volume I, Isaac Asimov
  • The Echo of Greece, Edith Hamilton
  • Science Frontiers, Ray Spangenburg and Diane Kit Moser
  • Where Do We Go From Here?, ed. Isaac Asimov
  • The Pinball Effect, James Burke

Last week’s ready was deliberately heavy on nonfiction, done to balance the growing amount of fiction I’ve been reading, particularly science fiction. Nevertheless, I began with science fiction: namely, Isaac Asimov’s The Caves of Steel, the first in his Robot series of books. I’ve been looking for this book since the beginning of November, and the anticipation heightened my enjoyment of it. The Caves of Steel takes place in 23rd century Earth in which cities have become Cities — enclosed environments of steel, concrete, and technology. Their structures reach far into the sky and far down below, reminiscent of Asimov’s Trantor. is a detective novel set in this environment, in which Elijah Baley must work with a robot partner to sort out who killed a sociologist. The book is written in Asimov’s style: simple language focusing on the story. In his Buy Jupiter and Other Stories, Asimov comments that the strength of books is that they allow the reader to use his or her imagination to build a world for themselves — unlike in television where users are restricted to the producer’s imagination. Asimov’s own “unadorned” style of writing may be a deliberate way of minimizing his own intrusion into the reader’s imagination. This generally works very well, but there’s one scene where the logistics of what was happening was lost to me. This is the one dark mark — and it’s not much of one — against the book.

Next I continued in Asimov, reading the first volume in his Asimov’s Guide to the Bible. Asimov maintains that he wrote the book to examine the secular side of the Judeo-Christian bible and its connection to other human thinking: to Sumerian and Babylonian culture, to history, to language, and so on. He does so by using his own strengths (knowledge of history, science, Hebrew, etc.) and by building on the works of others: translations of Assyrian and Egyptian documents, for instance. The book is close to seven hundred pages and so is quite the read. Asimov works through the books of what Christians call the “Old Testament” one by one. The books receive commentary proportional to their length in most cases. There are some exceptions (Joshua and the Psalms are two). To read this book is to become versed in the etymology of various words, to read about the history of the ancient and early classical world, to learn about the history of the early Jewish faith (which Asimov terms “Yahvism“, after Yahveh), and to learn about Jewish mythology. Bible literalists would object to that description, but the Bible has giants, “unicorns”, angels, and takes seriously astrological tales. I see no problem in dealing with Jewish religious instruction and Jewish mythology as two separate elements of the same culture that subsequently influence one another someway. There’s much more to say about the book, and so I urge you to read the more-lengthy commentary I made when I first read the book. The book has evidently upset bible-literalists. I imagine one particular complaint they have with him is that his opinion is that Isaiah and Daniel’s “prophecies” refer to events that have already happened and were of only localized concern to the Hebrews — the rise and fall of various middle-east empires. His description of the prophets is sometimes romanticized, but that’s my only real concern. He was careful to point out that his opinions were his own, and not necessarily those of those who make study of these ancient texts their livelihood.

Next I read Edith Hamilton’s The Echo of Greece, in which she examines the history of Greece — and more particularly, Athens — in the fourth century BCE. Hamilton begins by examining Athens’ role as the world’s only free city and writes that freedom and moderation were the foundation of the Greek (Athenian) mind. She then writes of Athens’ downfall, its promise corrupted by its growing power. Subsequent chapters examine the schools, literature, political life, and historical life to convey to the reader how the Greek mind changes from the fifth to the fourth century. The reader will learn about Plutarch and Demosthenes, about Stoics and Menander. She paints an eloquent picture of Athens, one that is very romanticized. She ends by detailing Greece’s absorption into the Roman Empire, then compares the Greek mind and the Roman mind and laments that the Roman Catholic Church — which eventually subjugates Greece and the Greek mind — chose to pattern itself after the Roman mind instead of the Greek. Not all is lost, however: she points out that the Greek mind is still with us, echoing in various aspects of western civilization. The book is very readable, very eloquently written, and quite romanticized — even to a Hellenophile like myself.

Next I turned to science — to Scientific Frontiers, the last book in Spangenburg and Moser’s updated-to-2004 History of Science series. The book tells the story of particle physics, DNA, and the space race. The authors’ approach and style are identical to their previous books, and so there’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said. I haven’t found their latter books as interesting as their books on 18th and 19th century, but the same was true for their previous history of science series and for history-of-science books in general. The 17th an 18th centuries are not as familiar to me as the 20th and 21st century, and so I naturally enjoy reading about those forerunners more.

Next I returned to science fiction with a collection of short stories that Asimov edited: Where Do We Go From Here? Asimov chose the stories on two qualities: one, their value as interesting stories; and two, their value as science fiction that raises questions and interest in their subject matter. At the end of every story, Asimov comments on it, its scientific worth, and its historical context, looking at the assumptions and predictions it works on. He ends by asking questions of the reader to encourage thought about the subject. If the author makes a mistake, Asimov asks the reader to find out why why that mistake is a mistake: if the author makes an assumption, Asimov asks the reader to look up information to see if the assumption might be valid. His experience as a science professor shows through.

Lastly, I read a book called The Pinball Effect, which concerns itself with the “web of knowledge” and focuses on how knowledge tends to advance in random ways, often resulting in curious coincidences. There are eighteen chapters, ranging in subject matter from cathode rays to anthropology, and taken in full they cover just about every aspect of human thought from philosophy to science. The author writes well and presents a lot of interesting (if trivial) information, but the book doesn’t seem as focused as it should be for presenting the ideas within. The author seemed to ramble. Beyond this, I don’t know what else to add. There is one interesting anecdote in here I like, though. Burke writes about an abolitionist preacher who presented his audience with a book that looked like the Bible, and railed to them that if that their attempt to justify slavery was so contemptible of their Lord that they might as well stab him in the face, just as the preacher does to the book. Little does the audience know that the book is hollowed out, and in the hollow is a kidney filled with blood and tied. When the abolitionist stabs the book, it breaks the bag and splatters blood across the face of onlookers. I thought it very dramatic.

Pick of the Week: Ooh, toughie. There are three instant favorites in this list, but I think I have to go with Asimov’s Guide to the Bible. Caves of Steel and The Echo of Greece are the runners-up.

Next Week:

  • The Lightning Thief, Rick Riordian
  • Darth Bane: Path of Destruction, Drew Karpyshyn
  • The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz
  • Atom, Isaac Asimov
  • Great Books, David Denby

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The Pinball Effect

Posted on December 29, 2008 by smellincoffee

The Pinball Effect: How Renaissance Water Gardens Made the Carburetor Possible and Other Journeys Through Knowledge
© James Burke 1996
277 pages plus index and bibliography

This latest book is a bit hard to comment on, and harder still to classify. The book concerns itself with the “web of knowledge”, and focuses on how knowledge tends to advance in random ways, often resulting in curious coincidences. There are eighteen chapters, ranging in subject matter from cathode rays to anthropology, and taken in full they cover just about every aspect of human thought from philosophy to science. The author writes well and presents a lot of interesting (if trivial) information, but the book doesn’t seem as focused as it should be for presenting the ideas within. The author seemed to ramble. Beyond this, I don’t know what else to add.

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Where Do We Go From Here?

Posted on December 27, 2008 by smellincoffee

Where Do We Go From Here?
ed. Isaac Asimov, © 1971

Where Do We Go From Here, a short-story collection assembled by Isaac Asimov, is more than the usual collection of short stories. Asimov introduces it in this way: “I have long maintained that science fiction has potential as an inspiring and useful teaching device. For this anthology, therefore, I have selected seventeen stories which, I think, can inspire curiosity and can lead the students into lines of questioning of his own that may interest and excite him, and may even help determine the future direction of his career. […] [T]he seventeen stories included are all good ones, clever and exciting in their own right. Anyone who wishes can read them for themselves alone, need make no conscious effort to learn from them, and may totally ignore my own comments after each story. For those who would probe a little deeper, I have placed after each story a few hundred words of commentary in which I talk about the scientific points made in the story, pointing out their validity, or, sometimes, explaining their errors. Finally, after each comment, I have appended a series of suggestions and questions designed to direct the reader’s curiosity in fruitful directions.”

As said, this is a collection of seventeen science fiction short stories, chosen for both their worth as stories and as science fiction. Asimov believed that good science fiction must have within it good science. The stories come from a variety of authors. A few are well-known names — Lester del Rey, Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke — but most were new to me. Two stories are by a Hal Clement, and at least one story was written by John Campbell, the editor of Astounding Stories under a pseudonym. After each story, Asimov reveals the year in which the story was published and comments on the author’s predictions, assumptions, and so on, ending his commentary with three or four questions that are intended to jog the reader’s mind. For instance, at the end of “The Cave of Night”, he writes “Gunn has the rescue vessels designed, built, and launched in the space of thirty days. Do you think this is practical? Look up data on the space program and find out how such things take.” Another example follows “Dust Rag” : “It is likely that Venus has an iron core, yet it has no magnetic field to speak of. How do we know it has none? Why should it not have one despite the iron core? What about other planets: Mars, Jupiter, Saturn? How do we know?”

Only one story (“Proof”) escaped me completely. I was able to enjoy all of the others to varying degrees. The stories seem deliberately chosen to cover the full range of scientific knowledge: in “Omnilingual”, the readers join a team of scientists on the surface of Mars as they attempt to learn about a long-dead Martian civilization. This particular chapter concerns language. In “Dust Rag”, two men on the surface of the Moon encounter problems with electromagnetism in that their visors become charged and attract lunar dust that is being charged by the Sun. The result is that the visors and the outside of their suits (including air filters) become covered in lunar dust and the astronauts — in bulky space suits — have to figure out how to return to their camp or shuttle before they run out of air. In “The Day is Done”, we see speculations on human-Neanderthal interaction. Here Asimov posits in his commentary that the Cro-Magnons and Neanderthals may have interbred to produce humans, but this is quite dated. (Asimov died nearly twenty years ago, so he can be forgiven for not considering the last two decades of evidence in regards to Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons.) One of my favorite stories was “Surface Tension”, which shows the results of humans modifying the human genome for life on other planets. The particular planet that the story is set on is covered in water and the largest animals are crayfish, so the humans are designed to be microscopic and interact with amoebas and so forth in a story that is completely implausible but very interesting.

I found the book to be tremendously enjoyable: the stories as well as the questions Asimov probed. I wonder if he did any other projects like this.

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