Marigold Labingi

If I had to be a named after a flower, marigold would be on the short list. It’s a pretty name, and the French marigold is a par­tic­u­lar favorite.

French Marigold from Lalbagh Flower show Aug 2012

By Rameshng. Used under a Cre­ative Com­mons license.

 

I’m behind on review­ing books that we’ve read for the book club. I don’t have the min­utes to look up all my other reviews, so I’ll just pick up where we are now.

The Silver Linings PlaybookThe Sil­ver Lin­ings Play­book by Matthew Quick

My rat­ing: 2 of 5 stars

Trite pat pap. The nar­ra­tor is grat­ing and unbe­liev­able. He’s intel­li­gent enough to under­stand and ana­lyze The Scar­let Let­ter, yet can’t fig­ure out what’s wrong with tak­ing a baby out so far in the ocean he’s strug­gling to keep his own head above water?

Pat does noth­ing proac­tive in the entire book. Every­thing hap­pens to him. His minute char­ac­ter growth (which is not nec­es­sary for a good book, don’t get me wrong) is com­pletely from with­out. The char­ac­ter is frus­trat­ingly shal­low and refuses to delve into any emo­tions, but some­how he ends the story with a mas­sive “break­through” that still man­ages to be pas­sive. He speaks with the voice of a child, yet some­how has a pen­e­trat­ing insight into the goings on around him that sug­gests a shrewd and wry sense of humor. It’s maddening.

I can’t tell if we’re being talked down to, or the author sim­ply mar­gin­al­izes the intel­li­gence of the men­tally ill. I tend to think it’s the for­mer, though. There are so many lit­tle pieces that just fall into place per­fectly — like the old roomy from the asy­lum being the per­son who saves him on Christ­mas, because he just got out yes­ter­day! Or Tiffany being able to recre­ate the voice and char­ac­ter of Nikki so well, all based on Pat’s mom’s drunken con­fi­dences. The book ends exactly like the title tells you it will, in a pre­dictable unsat­is­fy­ing Hol­ly­wood box with rib­bon. Yes, the manic (depres­sive) pixie dream girl wins in the end. Yay, all is right with the world.

It is very stale, and reads like a young adult novel writ­ten by some­one who under­es­ti­mates young adults.

Matthew Quick’s writ­ing style is pleas­ant enough to earn it an extra star, though. I wanted to keep read­ing despite all of the flaws and feel­ing insulted at the false, shal­low “open­ness” of Pat’s nar­ra­tion. Quick has a keen sense of obser­va­tion and abil­ity to paint a pic­ture and sit­u­a­tion. I just think that either he wasn’t famil­iar enough to do the sub­ject mat­ter jus­tice, or he wanted a movie made from his book and wrote it that way.

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MC Frontalot is one of my favorites.

 

I have two lit­tle boys that are turn­ing out to be com­plete lit­tle nerds. One good thing, though. They don’t have nearly the dis­dain for jocks that I had. I’ve man­aged to avoid pass­ing that snot­ti­ness down to them. They don’t care for sports any more than I did, but it’s not a seething resent­ment and prej­u­dice. There have been indi­vid­u­als that fit the pro­file, but I try to never snort deri­sively or pro­claim, “Typ­i­cal jock!” even if it’s what I’m thinking.

It’s good that the Spousal Unit waited to con­fess he had played foot­ball in high school until after we were already friends, or I wouldn’t have given him the time to get to know me. He’s always been a good solid geek him­self, but his crossover appeal shielded him from being fully enmeshed into nerd cul­ture. I also had a pretty big chip on my shoul­der towards teach­ers. Turns out my Edu­ca­tion major­ing “scholar ath­lete” is my favorite per­son, so it’s good I got over myself. I really do strug­gle with being an elit­ist jerk some­times, though.

With the kids, I’m sure it’s a combo of nature and nur­ture, but I’m just over­joyed we can all relate to each other.  Being able to talk to your kids about sci­ence, lit­er­a­ture, math, music, and phi­los­o­phy is an unpar­al­leled joy. Maybe jocks feel the same way about pass­ing down their plea­sures. I wouldn’t know.

 

Foucault's PendulumFoucault’s Pen­du­lum by Umberto Eco

My rat­ing: 4 of 5 stars

This book was dense and a bit of a chal­lenge at first. I spent a lot of time with my iPad in my lap, look­ing up con­cepts and words and his­tor­i­cal move­ments I just wasn’t famil­iar with, as well as trans­lat­ing Latin, French, and Ger­man bits that I didn’t want to miss out on. Even­tu­ally I put it aside because (strangely enough) I was work­ing on a research project that involved the his­tory of the Freema­sons. The schol­ar­ship is exactly as murky, ludi­crous, and rid­dled with con­jec­ture as Eco describes. He’s not exag­ger­at­ing at all.

I picked it back up when I had a lull in that project. I am so glad I did. The book is drily witty and pleas­antly eru­dite. It really forced me out of my usual read­ing com­fort zone. I learned so much, even after I decided to only look up the most inter­est­ing and con­fus­ing words, and to leave the his­tory alone. Part of the rea­son it works is because enigma is cen­tral to the very nature of eso­teric his­tory, so I really didn’t have to know exactly who was what and when to get through it.

AS a writer and his­to­rian, the book really made me think about the cre­ative process and research. As an over-thinker, I began to ana­lyze (ha, I hear it!) how I approach life.

One of my favorite quotes: “We were los­ing that mys­te­ri­ous and bright and most beau­ti­ful abil­ity to say that Signor A has grown bes­tial — with­out think­ing for a moment that he now has fur and fangs. The sick man, how­ever, think­ing ‘bes­tial,’ imme­di­ately sees Signor A on all fours, bark­ing or grunting.”

This speaks to how often, in try­ing to con­firm our own bias (real or cre­ated!) we will go to depraved lengths of men­tal gym­nas­tics sim­ply to mis­un­der­stand a sim­ple metaphor, rather than admit­ting we might sim­ply be wrong. It also speaks vol­umes on the power of decep­tion and cre­ativ­ity. Whether a lie is true or not, it has power, and while that power is not always lethal, very often it can be. How many wars are wars of per­cep­tion, how many mur­ders, how many mis­di­ag­noses even by doctors?

I have so much to think on after read­ing this. Themes that are touched include the com­mon­al­i­ties of man and the search for mean­ing and the place of God and what hap­pens when the con­cept of God is rejected. I have been chal­lenged to delve deeper than sur­face con­jec­ture, espe­cially as a writer, cre­ator, philoso­pher, and his­to­rian, at the same time as being reminded that some­times look­ing for hid­den mean­ing is its own idol and noth­ing but folly.

All in all, it was delight­ful, funny, heart-breaking, and sur­real. I found it to be worth the read.



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I just real­ized that it would be worth­while to save my reviews of the books I read here as well as on Goodreads. This was prompted by notic­ing the “Blog this Review” con­ve­nient lit­tle cut/paste fea­ture on Goodreads. I enjoy that site so much!

Whole Earth Discipline: An Ecopragmatist ManifestoWhole Earth Dis­ci­pline: An Eco­prag­ma­tist Man­i­festo by Stew­art Brand

My rat­ing: 4 of 5 stars

This man­i­festo is a call for envi­ron­men­tal­ists to leave behind their roman­tic ideals and move into the 21st Cen­tury. Stew­art Brand’s zeal and enthu­si­asm make most of this book a joy to read, and he is the first to admit his past mis­takes in his efforts to serve the earth. In par­tic­u­lar, he urges rethink­ing oppo­si­tion to nuclear power, urban­iza­tion, and genetic engineering.

I haven’t thought much about urban­iza­tion as an envi­ron­men­tal boon before this book. I per­son­ally am not a fan of the city, despite liv­ing in the mid­dle of one, and would love to return to rural areas. Brand makes a very com­pelling argu­ment for the healthy urban envi­ron­ment and how it can help clean up a lot of the poverty, pol­lu­tion, and waste that we are now expe­ri­enc­ing. This was an eye-opening sec­tion for me, and I will likely do fur­ther read­ing on the topic.

Brand was preach­ing to the choir on the next sec­tion. I have been staunchly pro-nuclear for years. Espe­cially updat­ing and expand­ing with new, updated tech (using Cher­nobyl or Fukushima as a boogey­man is disin­gen­u­ous in my opin­ion, but that’s a topic for another day)can be a huge dif­fer­ence in our CO2 lev­els and pro­vide a low-risk, high-output, and largely clean alter­na­tive to fos­sil fuels and other alter­na­tives we have at the moment. I do think that Brand glossed over the human com­po­nent here, but I expect that if the book were writ­ten after Fukushima, instead of directly before, that com­po­nent would have been more extensive.

I was really groov­ing on this book, enjoy­ing every bit even when I dis­agreed with him, but then I got to the genetic mod­i­fi­ca­tion bits. And here I ran into trou­ble, and stalled read­ing it for quite some time. He does not give his oppo­nents a fair hear­ing in this sec­tion, prob­a­bly because he has done time as a nuclear detrac­tor and an oppo­nent of urban­iza­tion. He doesn’t seem to under­stand the valid con­cerns of those who urge cau­tion and oppose genetic mod­i­fi­ca­tion, and there­fore doesn’t ade­quately address those con­cerns. He con­de­scend­ingly sug­gests that these peo­ple are sim­ply fear­ful of sci­ence and inno­va­tion. He’s clearly daz­zled by genetic sci­ence, and thinks it is super cool, and any­one who doesn’t see it that way is just an old fogey.

The rest of the book, he goes back to being more fair minded and even handed. He sug­gests that polit­i­cal divi­sive­ness and single-minded all-or-nothing think­ing does more harm than good. While he clearly on the left side of the polit­i­cal spec­trum, and can’t resist quite a few digs at the Repub­li­can party along the way, he also takes a few jabs at Al Gore. It’s appar­ent that he thinks Jerry Brown is the cat’s meow, though.

He dis­cusses human inter­ven­tion on the planet, and how lit­tle we know and how much we’re learn­ing daily. He sug­gests that North Amer­ica was destroyed by the white man, not by rap­ing and pil­lag­ing the pris­tine wilder­ness, but by destroy­ing elab­o­rate ter­raform­ing projects by wip­ing out (mostly via germs) the gar­den­ers of two continents.

In the last chap­ter, he talks in great detail about geo­log­i­cal engi­neer­ing, and some pos­si­ble worst-case sce­nario solu­tions if global warm­ing keeps up to pre­dic­tions. They are all incred­i­bly inter­est­ing and I can’t even scratch the sur­face of all the amaz­ing ideas he brings to the table in the last few chap­ters. They all bear fur­ther inves­ti­ga­tion. As this is a man­i­festo, his aim isn’t to delve deeply, but just sug­gest that there are solu­tions, if we are prag­matic and open to them, but bal­anc­ing that open­ness with being appro­pri­ately crit­i­cal and wary.

Brand’s writ­ing style is enthu­si­as­tic and clean. He is frank; even when he’s using a metaphor that he knows is imper­fect he admits it. He owns up to past mis­takes, and sug­gests that he could very well be wrong about many things he is writ­ing about now. He sug­gests his read­ers be open and rea­son­able, rather than intractable and stub­born, to go about tak­ing care of the planet we all call home. He appeals to all of us to be intel­lec­tu­ally hon­est and curi­ous and hope­ful, rather than despair­ing and quib­bling over details.

His love of sci­ence, human­ity, and the world are all appar­ent, and even though there is much in the book I dis­agree with, it opens up the ques­tion of a greater dia­log and research to such a degree that on the whole, I am thrilled that I read it. It has opened me up to many pos­si­bil­i­ties and ways of think­ing about the planet that I hadn’t con­sid­ered before, and I would sug­gest any­one inter­ested in these issues, no mat­ter what their stance, would get a great deal out of hear­ing Stew­art Brand out.

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There’s this closed group on Face­Book that I’m a mem­ber of, and today a very fun post got my wheels turn­ing.  It started out with this picture:

 

The per­son who posted asked oth­ers to con­tribute lists. While the names I know on this list are pretty awe­some, but their influ­ence is more rel­e­vant to a younger gen­er­a­tion than mine, so it was a good ques­tion. It took me about 15 min­utes, but I came up with the six fic­tional char­ac­ters that prob­a­bly taught me the most.  This is in no par­tic­u­lar order.

  1.  Meg Murry (A Wrin­kle in Time)
  2.  Dun­can Idaho (Dune Series)
  3. Won­der Woman
  4.  Char­lie (Firestarter)
  5.  Calvin (and Hobbes)
  6. J. Alfred Prufrock

I knew each of these char­ac­ters before I went away to high school col­lege! If I went with a life­time of learn­ing, I might have a dif­fer­ent list, but I don’t really think so. Even adding in the sec­ond half of my life, I think these char­ac­ters are some of the most real to me. I’ve felt each one’s story deeply. I almost put King Arthur, because I spent such a long time absolutely immersed in Arthurian leg­end and his story was very impor­tant to me, but it’s hard to pin down which ver­sion, and if I’m very lit­eral about the whole thing, I can’t say he never existed anyway.

I posed the ques­tion to the Spousal Unit. It took him about 20 min­utes to come up with his list:

  1. Bilbo
  2. Sam­wise
  3. Beowulf
  4. Mer­lin
  5. Scout Finch
  6. Fezzik

Inter­est­ing trends with both of us. Even though I don’t have a lot of fol­low­ers these days any­more, both of us had so much fun with this. If any­one is read­ing, I’d love to see yours.

 

(Strong lan­guage warn­ing for the link below.)

This  morn­ing I was all sorts of wal­low­ing in dreams I had failed to accom­plish, try­ing to fig­ure out how to make things hap­pen that just seem impos­si­ble but I still want so much. In par­tic­u­lar, I was chastis­ing myself for being a 36 year old who still wants to be an astro­naut so badly it makes my stom­ach ache. Then I decided to play Frank Turner’s Eng­land Keep My Bones because I’ve been hear­ing ran­dom songs from it but haven’t lis­tened to it all the way through. I heard this song for the first time.

I love syn­chronic­ity. I love that God and the uni­verse have no prob­lems speak­ing to me in my own lan­guage and that he will meet me exactly where I am instead of me being forced to lis­ten to some holy sanc­ti­mo­nious self-righteous cer­e­mo­nial for­eign emotion.

 

I have a hope for love and heal­ing for all affected by 9/11/2001. May we learn to forgive.

 

Okay, this is get­ting ridicu­lous. I swear, how much do I neglect myself while doing all of these things where I promise that I’ll do the writ­ing I really want to do? Just see­ing the last sen­tence in the pre­vi­ous post makes it painfully clear how much I just flat out don’t do what I say I’m going to, espe­cially when it comes to doing any sort of writ­ing I really WANT to do. I’m going to blow through the last few books that the Inklings read really quickly, because I have other stuff I want to blog on later on this week.

Damned by Chuck Palah­niuk

This book sucks. I truly have not hated a book so much in a long time. Chuck seems to have been bored one night and started on a writ­ing exer­cise that we now get to read. I don’t know what the pur­pose of the book was. To break through writer’s block? To damn the read­ers to a bore­dom greater than his own? To damn his pub­lish­ing house for allow­ing him to release this garbage? Really, it’s that awful. None of the Inklings liked it, even those of us who love Palah­niuk. The main char­ac­ter is stu­pid and trite and unbe­liev­able. Don’t read it if you love Palah­niuk. Don’t read it if you don’t like Palah­niuk. Don’t read it if you just want to read every­thing the man has writ­ten. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t really count.

Red­shirts: A Novel with Three Codas by John Scalzi

This book was fun. It was a light, fast read of light meta sci-fi. Trekkies espe­cially will love it. The codas at the end were the high­light of the book, even though the main story was plenty enter­tain­ing on its own. One of the read­ers was a bit tired of the meta-novel, and didn’t really enjoy it very much. On that note, I haven’t read much genre fic­tion that breaks the fourth wall, so it was still an inter­est­ing con­cept that didn’t seem trite or played to me. It was charm­ingly done, and engaged me through­out. I stayed up very late fin­ish­ing this one.

The King­dom of Child­hood by Rebecca Coleman

The first book that we truly dis­cussed as a group. It was inter­est­ing to see the dif­fer­ent opin­ions on it. Rebecca Coleman’s use of Point of View was one big talk­ing point. In my opin­ion, it was jar­ring and awk­wardly imple­mented. If Cole­man had even used more fre­quent chap­ter breaks it would have been eas­ier to under­stand. There were enough edit­ing issues to detract from the book, which was sur­pris­ing to me. Cole­man tells an inter­est­ing tale, but apart from the two prin­ci­ple char­ac­ters, there was so much left unsaid in this story that left me want­ing to know more, but at the same time I was so relieved when it was over that I’m glad she left out more detailed characterizations.

My favorite aspect of this book was the back­drop of the Waldorf/crunchy coun­ter­cul­ture that the book was set in. As I have looked into home­school­ing (oh, side note, that’s not hap­pen­ing this year) and dif­fer­ent aspects edu­ca­tional the­ory, Wal­dorf has been sug­gested as some­thing I would enjoy. There was some inter­est­ing stuff I saw woven into the fab­ric of the story, and I appre­ci­ated how Cole­man used the Wal­dorf style nar­ra­tive to present her story. I will say that I still think I’m a Montessori/unschooling type of girl. While clearly not an endorse­ment or a real study in a day in the life of the typ­i­cal Wal­dorf teacher (we can only hope), Coleman’s view of Wal­dorf is mixed.

For next month, Sarah has picked Count to a Tril­lion by John C. Wright. She had an inter­est­ing exchange with Wright in the com­ment sec­tion of her July lex­pi­onage post. I’m pretty excited. Squee!

 

The May meet­ing of the Inklings was light. As of the day of the group, only two peo­ple there had fin­ished the book. Sarah had fin­ished the book years ago, but she had a fam­ily thing. We did meet the Sat­ur­day before Mother’s Day, so turnout was light, also.

We strug­gled to talk about the book, because only Celeste and Chris had fin­ished it. Sarah, the day before, had stopped by and insisted that when it was time to dis­cuss, we spend some time talk­ing about all of the ridicu­lous nam­ing con­ven­tions Mar­tin (and fan­tasy in gen­eral) clings to, espe­cially the exces­sive use of Y. I found out that all of the names I was say­ing pho­net­i­cally in my head were wrong.  I felt dumb, but got over it.  Sadly, Sarah’s discussion-by-proxy is about as far as con­ver­sa­tion on the book went, but we still had fun, except when my cat Eowyn clawed a toddler’s face.  That was not fun, but lit­tle Johnny appears to have bounced back just fine.

I fin­ished a few days later. I really enjoyed the book, but maybe not enough to waste time read­ing when there’s a very ade­quate tele­vi­sion show out there that I could bor­row to catch up on what I’m miss­ing. Although as I’m typ­ing this out I feel maybe that’s not fair, and I should read it. I really love to read these things so much more than watch them on a screen. It’s very very rare for the movie to sur­pass the book for me, and such cases are rather extreme.  For exam­ple, did you know George Lucas had a Star Wars book ghost-written and released prior to the release of A New Hope. It was based on the orig­i­nal screen­play. Don’t read it unless you’re just some kind of com­pletist or some­thing, because it’s hor­ri­ble. (It’s also encour­ag­ing from a cer­tain per­spec­tive that a piece of pure crap can become such a won­der­ful work of art.)

So I don’t know. I’m work­ing on learn­ing to up my read­ing speed. Maybe if I can get to Teddy Roo­sevelt lev­els of a book before break­fast, read­ing these mas­sive tomes won’t be so daunt­ing when I have so many other books on my to-read pile and free­lance writ­ing to do and kids to raise (and maybe home­school? That’s a whole ‘nother post of a com­pletely dif­fer­ent and alto­gether much  more impor­tant bit of wishy-washy vac­il­la­tion) and a house­hold to main­tain.  But I’m glad I read the first one. So far, it’s the best book we’ve read yet.

Next book: Damned, by Chuck Palahniuk!