Robust McManlyPants on Average Display

I wrapped up A Wild Sheep Chase on Saturday night, ensconsed amongst kittens. Loved it to the very end. I fell asleep about 25 pages from the finish, though, and had wild nightmares about the significance of what was happening in the storyline right at that time, then awoke to find my skull resounding with one of the more unusual pseudonyms used by a regular Unfogged commentor. I can’t even remember anything about them except their pseudonym, but in the dream their pseudonym itself held some terrible portent. Odd. That’s the kind of thing A Wild Sheep Chase can do to you.

Immediately started in on Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, the first of the Marlowe novels proper that I’ve read (I’ve read a graphic novel adaptation of some of the stories, though). Here’s the thing: if I loved AWSC for its snappy dialogue, holy crap. I had no idea. Chandler makes every word count. Everyone in Marlowe’s Los Angeles is smart, everyone is direct, everyone has an angle, everyone has a snappy comeback. Yeah, the roots of every noir-detective-story comedic knock-off are there and proudly on display, but the writing simply crackles. You can hear the dialogue snapping in the breeze, and the story itself is highly entertaining.

Biggest surprise so far? That a book written in 1953 would have at least three four gay or bisexual characters in it, none of whom are condemned by the main character for being who they are. He doesn’t exactly stage a pride parade for them, but he doesn’t wax poetic about how squicky they are, either. And, as a bonus, they’re all allowed to be just as tough as anyone else in a book filled with tough types.

I’m currently rereading A Wild Sheep Chase, a book first introduced to me by KJ (aka the Hungry Photographer).  I read it about ten years ago, and loved it at the time.

In the intervening decade, I have forgotten almost everything about this novel, so it’s like getting to read it for the first time, twice.

I really, really like this book.  Mediocre advertising and publicity hack gets a new girlfriend with magical ears and goes on exactly what the title avers:  a wild sheep chase.  It’s a bizarre and sleepy little accidental-metaphysical-adventure story with snappy dialogue, but it’s also not afraid to remind us that our lives are pretty much altogether unremarkable.  When the remarkable intrudes, yes, the mediocre hero dives in with both feet, but only after working out a deal to protect some aspects of his own unremarkable life.  Rather than be carried away by it all, he resists, and he remains pretty mediocre throughout.

By mediocre, I should note, I do not mean the quality or entertainment value of the book.  The hero has it explained to him, very carefully and purposefully, that he is mediocre in all ways:  mediocre job, mediocre looks, mediocre apartment, mediocre cat.  His weird-ass adventure, the titular chase, takes him on rides through unremarkable countryside and to a really dusty and boring little town.  As fantastical as it all is, it’s also utterly devoid of razzle-dazzle, special effects or a sense that any moment the entire cast and setting could be lifted into orbit by its own satisfaction with itself.

And yet, he still has all these remarkable things that happen to him, and remarkable things he does.  He is in no way mediocre, but in all ways mediocre.

I really like it.  My own life has had its share of small adventures – KJ and me, standing outside in St. Petersburg (the one in Russia) smoking Nat Shermans late at night, or the time Mr. Saturday and Becca and Johnathan and I drove to Louisiana on a lark, or the time Deadblob and I tried to infiltrate a certain stone edifice, or the time The Boyf and I wandered across a meth lab when we were out house-hunting.  Yes, they were adventures in that they were outside my day-to-day frame of reference, they expanded my experience, they stuck firmly in my memory (I still remember the taste of the unlit clove cigarette clenched between my teeth as Deadblob and I ran through the woods, away from said edifice, when the caretaker returned home), but throughout them all I remained a fairly mediocre person experiencing remarkable things.  The thing is, I’m OK with that.  To say that the average of our lives is, well, average, doesn’t take away from those experiences.  Rather, I think it enhances them by way of creating contrast.

Actually, if I’m really honest, I think I’ve had a pretty singular life in a lot of ways.  I haven’t been to many foreign countries, I haven’t done a lot of things other people have, but a lot of the things I’ve done have likewise not been done by many, and it’s those things that shape us and mold us, not what we have for breakfast every morning.  Still, I really enjoy the novel, and I like the chance to change my perspective for a while.  Murakami goes to great lengths to describe what seems like an utterly average landscape in an utterly unmemorable decade (the 1970′s) with stark descriptions that still manage to paint complete pictures.  He has that gift for giving the reader just enough details that their brain fills in all the rest.  And, truly, that’s some sweet dialogue.  And I’m a sucker for first-person narration.

At any rate, I’ll be done with it this weekend.  The Boyf is out of town for four days visiting relatives, and despite cable and kittens and World of Warcraft and what’s shaping up to be a pretty lively Saturday, I feel utterly at a loss for what to do with myself in his absence.  So I’ll probably read (and pet kittens, and play WoW).

I finished His Dark Materials tonight. A few brief thoughts below the fold, to prevent spoiler action.
(more…)

Today, mrh posted the 1,000th comment on my blog. Holy crap. That seems like such a mammoth number for such a dusty corner of the webbertrons.

Also: this weekend The Boyf and I went to see The Da Vinci Code, where we ran into Joey and Carl. And I finished The Subtle Knife, the second book of His Dark Materials. I’m currently two chapters into the final novel, The Amber Spyglass. Thoughts below the fold, for spoiler-avoidance.

Seriously, if you’re going to read these books or see this movie and you don’t want spoilers, just know this: if you liked the book The Da Vinci Code, see the movie. If you thought the book TDVC was forgettable crap, guess what? The movie is forgettable crap. If you hated the book TDVC, don’t waste your money. If you haven’t read the book, but are curious about it, save yourself some time and watch the movie. Sir Ian McKellan is worth it, and you will have effectively just read the book because there is not a thing different between them.

Also, His Dark Materials rules us all, and you should read it.

(more…)

Just an FYI to fellow Lake House folk:  I will be bringing the whole of Seven Soldiers with me.  I will also be bringing the His Dark Materials trilogy.  It is decided.

Also, Red Son. And Pyongyang.

I cannot get His Dark Materials out of my brain.

Just as an FYI, the zombies have been updated.

Also, recently I have had many strange dreams, prime among them the dream in which I discovered that mangos were secretly made of pork.

Another odd one:  I was working for a reincarnated Napoleon, whom the pope was trying to kill.

My short, shameful confession of today:  I really want to see the movie version of The Da Vinci Code.

Finally, I have begun reading the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman.  I’ve almost finished the first book, The Golden Compass, and I am totally in love with it.  It’s what I wish Harry Potter were more like:  dark and mysterious and full of danger and questionable motives.  There are no crystal-clear heroes, but there are gypsies and prophecy and talking animals and dark portents and divinatory magic and it’s all utterly drenched in a sense that everything hangs in the balance.  The general message seems to be that it would be better to run away with gypsies and live a life of adventure than to sit comfortably while the whole world goes to hell, and I can get behind that.  It’s also written extremely skillfully, so that anyone from age, I dunno, let’s say eleven on up can enjoy it.  If I had to boil it down to one pop-culture sentence I would say:  “Imagine if Neil Gaiman and HP Lovecraft and Tim Burton conspired to write a Harry Potter/Pokemon cross-over.”  That makes it sound terrible, but it’s actually really, really good.

On second thought, another pop-culture summary might be “Harry Potter with a body count.”

The Boyf has called dibs on TGC when I’m done with it, but after that it’s up for borrowing grabs.

Just a few things running around my mind today:

• One of the criticisms leveled against Twin Peaks in what little scholarship I’ve read regarding the series’ encoded meanings is that it is an anti-feminist work that glorifies violence against women. Taking the series and film as a whole, however, and especially in light of the last scene of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, it seems to me that it has no agenda other than to reflect Laura as a whole person with good and bad qualities and decisions all her own. She is neither held up as a saint nor damned as a sinner. In fact, the end of FWWM suggests that the only way she is able to move forward is by having someone, presumably the audience, witness – neither condemn nor endorse but witness – the whole truth of her complicated life and recognize her as a fully three-dimensional human being rather than a positive or negative stereotype or otherwise pigeonhole her specific and unique and human experience. As such, it has no specifically feminist agenda but it is also impossible to classify as anti-feminist; given that its message, if one chooses to find it in this way, is that each person must be allowed to be all of themselves and recognized as such, and that each person has a right to face their own fears and demons and, by integrating those and other experiences into the whole of their being, gain enlightenment, it seems that it is equally empowering of all people and, in that regard, may be more subtly feminist than anyone suspects. It also means I’ve probably watched Twin Peaks too many times, but in fact sitting around thinking about it like this makes me want to watch it again. I also think that the show’s message, if there is one, is no more complicated than that the social pressures of the middle class make it easy for kids to turn out fucked up.
• There are few things in the world more tasty than salmon.
• I would rather spend a sweaty morning mowing my back yard every 2 years than sew it with grass seed and have an easy time of mowing it every 2 weeks.
• I really need to get my emergency brake fixed so that I can get my car inspected.
• Dan Brown (author of Angels & Demons and The Da Vinci Code) should be publicly mocked for publishing such a thinly veiled pitch for a screen adaptation and daring to call it a novel.

I saw this at Mz. GoRightry’s place, and as I love to talk books, here are mine. (UPDATE: I have stolen Bascha‘s color notations for favorites, just FYI.) The deal is, you copy the list, bold anything in it that you’ve read, and add four to the end. As an extension of the meme, I am further denoting books in this manner:

• italicised, but not bold = a book I want to read but haven’t yet
• italicised and bold = a book I’m currently reading
• bold and struck through = a book I tried to read and have formally abandoned out of disinterest
• purple and bold = a book I have read and is a favorite
• purple, bold and italicised = a book I have read and love so much that it’s always “current” reading

Maybe yugen is right, and I need to be a systems librarian.

The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy – Douglas Adams
The Great Gatsby – F.Scott Fitzgerald
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
The Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter 6) – J.K. Rowling
Life of Pi – Yann Martel
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story – George Orwell
Catch-22 – Joseph Heller
The Hobbit – J. R. R. Tolkien
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
1984 – George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book 3) – J.K. Rowling
One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Book 4) – J.K. Rowling
The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter 5) – J.K. Rowling
Slaughterhouse 5 – Kurt Vonnegut
Angels and Demons – Dan Brown
Fight Club – Chuck Palahniuk
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Book 1) – J.K. Rowling
Neuromancer – William Gibson
Cryptonomicon – Neal Stephenson
The Secret History – Donna Tartt
A Clockwork Orange – Anthony Burgess
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book 2) – J.K. Rowling
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
American Gods – Neil Gaiman
Ender’s Game (The Ender Saga) – Orson Scott Card
Snow Crash – Neal Stephenson
A Prayer for Owen Meany – John Irving
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
Middlesex – Jeffrey Eugenides
Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
The Lord of the Rings – J. R. R. Tolkien
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
Good Omens – Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman
Atonement – Ian McEwan
The Shadow Of The Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
The Old Man and the Sea – Ernest Hemingway
The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
Dune – Frank Herbert
The Unberable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera
Hey Nostradamus! – Douglas Coupland
The Nature of Blood – Caryl Phillips
Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules – Ed. David Sedaris
The Last Continent – Terry Pratchett
The Book of Skulls – Robert Silverberg
The Beekeeper’s Apprentice – Laurie R. King
Persepolis 2 – Marjane Satrapi

My four additions:
The Sound & The Fury – William Faulkner
A Wild Sheep Chase – Haruki Murakami
The Bridge of Birds – Barry Hughart
Foundation – Isaac Asimov

A fraternity sister of mine is a poet and educator in New Orleans. She teaches there, has two books – mine and All Fires The Fire, both of which are available from Faulkner House Books – and she’s been sharing some of her post-Katrina writing with apostropher and allowing him to post them there for the world to see. A new one went up today, and though I seriously doubt anyone who reads this doesn’t read apostropher, I’d like to direct you to them anyway:

• There Is No New Orleans
• Mystic Bowling with Tornado Warnings
• One Tuba Rescued
• So Shoot Me

After reading “One Tuba Rescued,” I emailed Andy to thank her for letting the rest of us peek over her shoulder into the world where she lives. We talked a little about one of her latest projects, a magazine called Meena. Its mission is to bridge the gap between the Arabic- and English-speaking worlds (and, specifically, the gap between New Orleans and Alexandria). This comes from their “About Us” page, and should be just about all you need to be interested in their work:

We agree with Dr. Salma Khadra Jayyusi, founder and director of PROTA (Project of Translation from the Arabic), who says if we read one another, we will be less likely to kill one another.

They’re currently looking for translators, copy editors, basically anyone who can help. Go give ‘em a look, because it’s well worth it. Just be ready, because the words they feature will turn around and go from whimsical and satirical to biting and poignant and shine their light right in your eyes when you’re not expecting it. King Midas Blues is a prime example of this, of why our societies still desperately need their poets.

Lately I’ve been on another tear of crazy-ass books.  First up has been Mystery of the Crystal Skulls. 
Gods, but this book is long.  Two documentarians find themselves
running around North & South & Central America looking into the
history of a collection of crystal skulls of hotly debated origin -
some see them as artifacts of the Mayans, some as pre-Mayan, some as
Renaissance forgeries and some as 19th century forgeries.  For the
first 200 pages they present a very balanced and objective story
detailing the various scientists, archeologists, historians,
folklorists and private enthusiasts they interview, including
everything from the solid documentation that the skulls may be
forgeries to the “channeled insights” some self-described psychics
claim to get from the skulls.  They don’t put particular stock in
what the crackpots have to say, and they make certain to balance the
crackpots with repeatable science and rational, honest discussions of
their own doubts and desires regarding the skulls.  I’m very close
to the end but I’m finding it one long row to hoe.  They’ve now
officially waded in above their heads and are strictly in crackpot
territory.  I’m going to finish, but I’m sorely disappointed.

Second in my stack is The Archaic Revival by Terence McKenna.  I should note that the subtitle is Speculations
on Psychedelic Mushrooms, the Amazon, Virtual Reality, UFOs, Evolution,
Shamanism, the Rebirth of the Goddess and the End of History. 
You want Crackpots 101?  This is a prereq.  I actually don’t
think McKenna was crazy.  Rather, I think he was extremely
brave.  I also think he took a LOT of psychedelics that may have,
I dunno, altered his chemistry.  It’s his firm believe that there
are alternate universes and hyperspatial dimensions (whatever those
are) right next door, just across a quantum mechanical veil, where
alien intelligences are ready to greet anybody who does enough of a
variety of tryptamines.  He’s not in favor of widespread
experimentation with “heroic doses” (his term) of psychedelics, but he
does consider the generality of certain experiences on such substances
to warrant further clinical study to see if this is something that can
be objectively demonstrated to be a shared experience and, perhaps, a
factual environment. 

Given some recent observations of common experience in certain
physiological circumstances (I’ll never find a citation here but I’m
thinking specifically of a study in the last year or so that found the
tunnel-of-light near-death experience can be induced by artificially
restricting oxygen flow to the brain – Jason mentioned it on the SPAM
list, so if you’re a SPAMster you can search the archives there), I’m
wondering whether further, serious clinical study would show that the
common experience is due to a predictable alteration in brain chemistry
on large doses or demonstrate that there is some alien dimension of
“self-replicating machine-elves” (his term, again), or whether any
results at all would ever settle into something other than heated
debate. 

After all, I think there are plenty of people (perhaps myself, as well)
who would argue that oxygen deprivation is nothing to sneeze at and
that an ability to arbitrarily induce an experience which, regardless
of its explanation, occurs outside the observable realm doesn’t
invalidate the experience itself.  If the brain thinks it’s dying,
who says it doesn’t act like it’s dying and eject the spirit, if that’s
what you believe in?  On the other hand, who says it isn’t a
completely artificial experience designed to calm someone in their
final moments, a mercy of biological chance?  I don’t know the
answer, and neither does anyone else – and no matter how often studied
or in what doses, I think psychedelic experiences are going to remain
similarly unsettled and similarly debatable regardless of how many
times they’re experienced or how outside the self they seem in
origin. 

That said, it’s some fascinating reading.  He’s all over the map,
and it ends up repetitive (given it’s a collection of transcripts from
speeches and interviews done over a period of years), but it’s
fascinating stuff.  Even if it’s crazy, he seems so sincere in his
belief that it seems rude to dismiss him out-of-hand.  Still, for
something documenting psychedelic experience and modern shamanism
that’s largely devoid of dogma and more journalistic in its approach, I
would have to recommend Breaking Open The Head by Daniel Pinchbeck before The Archaic Revival.  It’s a better book and it just seems – and I hate to say this, but it’s how I feel – less kooky.

Third, thanks to Mr. Pink Eyes and Katastrophes, is the TPB collection of Bone comics.  Must start it soon.  MUST. (more…)

So, I just finished Going Postal
by Terry Pratchett.  The Boyf is next in line to read it, as I am
a terrible bookhog and take forever to finish one and thus he still
hasn’t gotten to take a crack at it.

For those who haven’t read it:  read it.  It owns me.

For those who have read it, here’s my question:  do you think this
cements in place a (semi-?)official Ankh-Morpork series (a la “the
witch books” or “the guards series,” etc.), when joined to The Truth and Night Watch (which I could see argued as being not entirely a Guards book) and, possibly, Moving Pictures, or do you think this book finalizes the creation of a Vetinari series (again, when thrown in with The Truth and Night Watch)? 
I could see an argument for christening either – and an argument that
any distinction between Ankh-Morpork and Lord Vetinari would be
entirely artificial as the two are so much a part of one another as to
be indistinguishable, while we’re at it.

I could also see an argument that he’s abandoned the idea of the series
books altogether and is just writing about whatever parts of the
Discworld interest him most.  Damn.  I guess I should
resubscribe to his Usenet group.

Thoughts? (more…)

Aaron B. supplied me this morning with the wholly biased publisher blurb for a book out called The God Gene: 

The overwhelming majority of Americans believe in God,
expressing a conviction that has existed since the beginning of
recorded time and is shared by billions around the world. In The God Gene,
Dr. Dean Hamer reveals that this inclination toward religious faith is
no accident; it is in good measure due to our genes. In fact, he
argues, spiritual belief may offer an evolutionary advantage by
providing humans with a sense of purpose and the courage and will to
overcome hardship and loss. And, as a growing body of evidence
suggests, belief also increases our chances of reproductive survival by
helping to reduce stress, prevent disease, and extend life.

Hamer shows that new discoveries in behavioral genetics and
neurobiology indicate that humans inherit a set of predispositions that
make their brains ready and eager to embrace a higher power. By
analyzing the genetic makeup of over a thousand people of different
ages and backgrounds, and comparing their DNA samples against a scale
that measures spirituality, Hamer actually identified a specific “God
gene” that appears to influence spirituality.

Popular science at its best, The God Gene is an in-depth, fully
accessible inquiry into the cutting-edge research that is changing the
way we think about ourselves, our world, and our culture. Written with
balance and integrity, without seeking to confirm or deny the existence
of God, The God Gene brilliantly illuminates the mechanism by
which belief itself is biologically fostered. It’s a book that bridges
the gap between science and religion, and one that will appeal to the
readers of Genesis and Genome alike.

It’s worth noting that the Amazon editorial review hated the book.

Now, a quick Amazon check reveals that Hamer also co-wrote Living,
in which he said he felt he had identified the “gay gene.”  Having
gotten past the point of needing or caring whether there even is an
“explanation” for who I am, simply enjoying being myself and saying screw pretty much everyone else,
I cocked my eyebrow at this.  I’m not sure I’m willing to put much
stock in someone who might believe that everything about is
pre-programmed.  On the other hand, the review on Amazon pointed
out that Hamer does not claim to have found the gene responsible for
all religions and religious belief, but rather one which may cause
people to be more open to what he calls “self-transcendence,” a feeling
of connectedness with the world (in a spiritual sense, not a
psychological one).  So, the publisher’s blurb may be hyperbole
compared to what’s in the book (I know, surprise!).  Still, Aaron
points out some very
interesting questions that arise from this possibility. 

And a God gene would sure explain a lot of my family. (more…)

Ah yes – that time is upon us.

It is time to begin preparing for National Novel Writing Month. 

This year I think I’ve roped The Boyf into it, and Mr. Saturday.  Mr. Pink Eyes
says he’s in, I think, and I support all of them and more in doing
so.  NaNoWriMo is extremely stressful fun.  I loved it last
year.  Yesterday I started outlining in earnest, hammering out
weird plot-points in conversation with Mr. Saturday.  I may post
some of what I write here, as I work on it during the month of
November.  We’ll see.  But regardless, that time is on
us.  Today, I get back into the NaNoWriMo.org fora.  Yum! (more…)

So, I started on the new Kitty Kelley book last night.  Let me
tell you, this one is a brick and a half.  It’s not as long as
Clinton’s book, but it’s not far off.  It clocks in around 650
pages when you drop the Bibliography & such, if I remember
correctly.

Also, it is way more fun than it should be.

In the introduction, Kelley hints at how tight-lipped the Bushes can be
regarding family members.  After pointing out some “undesirables”
that have been air-brushed out of the official family tree, she
describes how it took two years, dozens of phone calls, several letters
and a lawyer to get the federal government to release a thin puff of
information on a relative who’d been dead for 25 years.  Also,
she’s very catty.  Very catty.  I like catty.

I’m currently somewhere in Chapter 3, still very much dealing with the
young adulthood and rise to power of Prescott Bush, Bush41′s father and
43′s grandfather.  But it’s already disturbing to note the
differences wrought in the family over the course of four
generations.  Prescott’s father was an upper-middle-class
businessman with very progressive politics, particularly regarding
women’s rights.  Now his great-grandchild is as far-right as it
gets, richer than God and convinced he’s the only person in the world
who knows what the hell he’s doing despite having run every venture
he’s ever captained – including the Executive Branch – right into the
ground.  Prescott, meanwhile, is this handsome, popular athlete
who makes his one collegiate goal the acquisition of social power
rather than academic knowledge.  He pulls pranks, he lies about
his experiences in war, he goes out of his way to deride what others
take very seriously – gosh, that sounds a bit familiar, doesn’t it?

Hrm.

What I really want, though, are the goods on Barbara.  Apparently
someone in the book refers to her as “bull-dyke tough,” and I’m like, “Duh.“ 
I think of her and I think of cast iron.  You want power behind
the throne?  Bar makes Nancy look like a doting aunt. 
Barbara seems powerful in the same way Emperor Palpatine is powerful,
and that’s always fascinating and horrifying.

I’m enjoying this way, way more than I should. (more…)

In anticipation of new Pratchettness, I give you this story:  a
tribe on the Amazon has trouble with mathematics because their language
doesn’t have words for most numbers.  Instead, they have “one,” “two,” and “many.”

The math/language arts major I nearly was is fascinated by this. 
These folks aren’t dumb, they just don’t have words for those
numbers.  There are all kinds of interesting suggestions this
makes between language and mathematics, and how the skills to use each
may be connected.  On the surface, in a very
my-liberal-arts-education-has-to-be-good-for-something way, it makes
obvious sense:  words are aural and visual abstractions used to
describe the world around us whereas mathematics are, um… aural and
visual abstractions used to describe the world around us. 
Yeah.  So it’s kind of obvious that they’d be connected – most
interesting, I think, because mathematics seems like it’s just the way
things are, but this suggests that we can’t get our brains around a number as a truth – only as a symbol we understand as an abstraction.

Awesome! (more…)