Tagged: book reviews
A Year of Reading in Review
As promised, so far as I remember and/or marked, here’s what I read in 2024. The colorful books with the banner “not for resale” really were just since October—I’ve been on a tear of late. Same with the comic books; when I cut movies (for the most part), I had to find something light and so chose comics that I always wanted to read. You don’t see a few others from a “Predator vs. Black Panther” series and an “Alien vs Avengers” series. A collection of Jack London is the two-page table of contents pic that starts with “The Yukon” and ends with “White Fang.” The individual “First Reading” etc are from the Great Ideas Program. And the table of contents of essays are from Gateways to the Great Books companion set to the GBWW.
I may post again with an answer to the question, “So what did all this reading do for you insofar as tangible results, Captain?” For today, I want to share an infamous quote by Faraday. When he was asked, “What is the point of this discovery of yours?”, he responded, “What is the point of a child?”
Happy New Year!
On Reading “The Divine Comedy”
Oh sweet Book, thou mantlest thyself with a smile, by what ardentcy dost thou require my time whose arrow, aimed right or left, loosed evermore sheathgone, anon to crawl, broken mirror upon, ever opening virgin wounds ere disconsidered more believable than metamorphastication of hell’s lord to heaven’s Supreme Good, be collected!
“Comedy in the Old Sense”, A Review of Joker: Folie à Deux, Directed by Todd Phillips
Everyone knows what a tragedy is. The word has kept its meaning through the years. The meaning of comedy, however, has not held constant. In a sense, this change is no different from how the concept of heat as substance was discarded in favor of heat as motion upon experimental data which confirmed there was a difference between temperature (strength) and heat (quantity).
Anyone know in what sense comedy was used in the past, say for such a work as Dante’s Divine Comedy? That’s right, “a happy ending.” That story has a happy ending. (Spoiler: It ends in Heaven.)
That is the sense that I mean when I chose to title this review, “Comedy in the Old Sense.” I do not mean that the film is funny.
As a family man, I do not get to the movie theater much these days, so I had to wait, like the rest of you, to watch the movie on a streaming service (co-worker’s account). So I was more than well-versed in the terrible reception of the highly anticipated film. While I would like to believe my critical eye is objective, I offer some backstory to the tardy review because I cannot deny that I came into the movie with a different mindset and much lower expectations than the World before me. Truth be told, by the time I watched it, I needed to prove everyone wrong. I needed to see the genius.
And so here it is.
The movie, unlike its predecessor, is pure comedy. As no one wanted to see that, because no one expected that, everyone missed it. Regardless of its initial reception, like the Divine Comedy, literally for the exact same reasons, I offer that this comedic work is an instant classic and will stand the test of time even more-so than Joker. Because we do like our happy endings.
Time for a proper [SPOILER ALERT]. (But I’d keep reading because the movie is better when not a mystery.)
Joker is the bad guy. And the bad guy dies.
That’s right. Good guys win; bad guys lose. That’s a happy ending, right? Well, the final scene in Joker is that a fanboy fellow asylum-mate unexpectedly (perhaps only to Arthur Fleck) kills Arthur.
Get it? From this old perspective, the first movie is a tragedy, because Joker, while arrested, clearly wins. But in the sequel, the continuation of the story, he dies. The bad guy loses—which is what happy endings require. So it’s a comedy.
If the film misses any mark, it is that the “good guy” remains nebulous. Is it Batman (meaning merely our awareness of the character since he is not in the film)? Is it rule of law in general? A jury trial in particular? Is it truth-telling in the face of fear? Is it truth in general? We aren’t really told, so it’s anyone’s guess.
That’s the broad strokes. But I want to hit some minutia for posterity’s sake.
Hollywood is messing up on casting right now (GLADIIATOR being the other major instance). Certain actors are too talented for small roles. In Joker: Folie à Deux, the problem is Gleeson. His character was fairly important to the story, but his past credits are too distinguished. The polish he brought resulted in him standing out like a sore thumb. It was all tease, no climax. Let’s not do that again.
In America’s on-going battle of the blondes, Hollywood thinks Margot Robbie could only be topped by Lady Gaga. (This isn’t criticism, just acknowledging who’s hot and who’s not—according to our betters.) This is interesting. Gaga did a perfectly fine job in the film. We probably can just admit she did a perfect job. But I’d say she risked more than she needed to on this role—even as she should be flattered beyond belief.
I recently watched Alien: Romulus as well. I am not sure why I didn’t review it—it is good. But I am very sure that the first time I saw the xenomorph appear I thought, “Man. That is so beautiful. Probably the best looking bad guy ever.” Update: after watching Joaquin Phoenix with the makeup on and hair green and charisma maxed out, I’d say it’s a tie. Joker is just beautiful. I’m telling you, keep an eye on how this movie is received down the years. We like beauty, as a species.
Let’s end on a philosophical note.
In the film Red Belt, the martial art’s instructor goes through a list of, “If you stand here, can I strike you? If you stand here, can I strike you?” Etc. This continues, of course, until he positions his student outside of striking distance and concludes, “So don’t stand here (anywhere close).”
Joker is killed by the nicest-to-him inmate (not Batman or the police or the law), precisely when/because his guard is down. I just can’t help but wonder, “WTF, over?”
Why do we hurt each other?
Been Reading Some Einstein (and Infeld)
Until you do too, or until you read Newton himself, you just need to trust me. Any chance you get, any time you hear someone associate Newton with an apple falling from a tree, stamp it out—fiercely, ferociously if necessary, but effectively in any case. Newton should be forever tied to a David-esque slingshot. In all honesty, Newton’s influence on life on Earth is probably more profound than the “man after God’s own heart.” But however your rank order of the two concludes, they are both whirling a rock around on a rope—no apples in sight. Just stop it!
Some Outstanding Quotes From Recent Reads
A book I have always dreaded is, “Up From Slavery” by Booker T. Washington. I viewed it like the pet shop snakes Pee Wee didn’t want to rescue from the fire. I could not have been more wrong. It is astonishing. (For the uninitiated, it was written around 1900; Washington was a former slave turned champion of education and recognized leader of the Negro people in the times that followed their big day.)
“The white man who begins by cheating a Negro usually ends by cheating a white man. The white man who begins to break the law by lynching a Negro soon yields to the temptation to lynch a white man. All this, it seems to me, makes it important that the whole Nation lend a hand in trying to lift the burden of ignorance from the South.”
(Pause here to consider the fullness of love captured by those words.)
“Nor should we permit our grievances to overshadow our opportunities.”
And I add this next one with a special eye affixed on Black Jesus himself. (Please recall this was spoken by a former slave. No bed, no bathing, no shoes, no toothbrush, no mealtimes. Scratchy shirts, no education. Etc etc.)
“The wisest among my race understand that the agitation of questions of social equality is the extremest folly, and that progress in the enjoyment of all the privileges that will come to us must be the result of severe and constant struggle rather than artificial forcing.”
That begs repeating.
“The wisest among my race understand that the agitation of questions of social equality is the extremest folly, and that progress in the enjoyment of all the privileges that will come to us must be the result of severe and constant struggle rather than artificial forcing.”
(It’s only natural to take a quick break before continuing to the next quote.)
Long ago I bought Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica, partly out of interest, partly to impress a girl. I never opened it that paperback copy. But a beautiful hardbound copy was in my Great Books set and the guided reading propelled me to taste and see. So I finally had a chance to discover what it’s all about. Couple to this that back in Seminary (Evangelical, not Catholic) the phrase “intellectual assent” was thrown around like “please and thank you”, usually in a smug, “Faith isn’t just intellectual assent”. (This was said in conversations about apologetics and sharing the Gospel in general.)
“Now the act of believing is an act of the intellect assenting to the Divine truth at the command of the will moved by the grace of God…”
For the thousandth time then, say it with me, “We’re all just little repeaters”. It’s depressing in a way. But it’s also fun to track down the true creators among us.
Next and last for today is Jack London’s White Fang. I can’t recall if I ever read it. I know I watched a movie from the 90s by the same name, but to suggest it was based on the book I am reading would be criminal.
(Keep in mind this quote is about a wolf *wink*.)
“But there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of which was growth. Instinct and law demanded of him obedience. But growth demanded disobedience.”
(Another long pause for contemplation is only natural here.)
I write these posts for me. But I confess to you that today I write with the hope of spurring someone, anyone on to the delight of reading Up From Slavery and White Fang. (Aquinas is too much for anyone not professionally interested.)
The Spark
I’m not saying it will ignite what seems inconceivable—a full and prolonged civil war—but I am saying it will light a proper insurrection.
The spark is going to be a widely attended and publicized funeral.
When the time comes, the funeral, and its attendant crowds, will be the event and day and time that ordinary citizens, and not-so-ordinary citizens, will violently enflame the tinderbox of MAGA vs. DNC incivility. Stay home.
Yes, I have been reading Les Misérables. Yes, I got the idea directly from it. No, I do not think the situation in America is anything like 1832 Paris. But we all can feel that more escalation and more outrageous events await.
It’s my blog. There is a thrill to making measurable predictions. Don’t steal my joy! And before you get your panties in a bunch, just admit that, sadly, you know I am right on this one.
Brief Excerpt from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables from which to Compare Personal Experience with Children
“That Cosette continue to love him! That God would not prevent the heart of his child from turning to him, and remaining his! Loved by Cosette, he felt healed, refreshed, soothed, satisfied, rewarded, crowned. Loved by Cosette, he was content! He asked nothing more. Had anybody said to him, “Do you wish for anything better?” he would have answered, “No.” Had God said to him, “Do you want heaven?” he would have answered, “I would be the loser.”
****
Before H- was born, we chose not to know the sex of the baby. As a military man, I feared a son, because he would naturally want to follow in his dad’s footsteps and leave home for war. So when H- came into the world, I said, “Good! She can live with us forever!”
Then divorce; essentially weekends only; moving away for work, which was sold to H- by her vindictive mother (and gee-ma and gee-pa??) as her father abandoning her (to full applause of society, including professional counseling sessions for problem of “abandoned by father”); moving back, only to be ghosted by H- since last December.
It may seem that one could reasonably conclude that my “she can live with us forever” was uttered in the same manner as Jean Valjean’s sentiment.
It was not.
As I explained above, my sentiment was about being frustrated with the result of my war-seeking and not wanting it to define the rest of my time on earth, ie, I didn’t want to pass on military service to my son as if it was a genetic disease. The better option seemed to have a girl, since obviously war is for boys.
To conclude, unlike Jean Valjean, noble hero that he is, I am not made content or discontent by one of my child’s feelings toward me—especially while they are a child. There’s really no one on earth who affects my “contentment”, let alone is sufficient for it. I regard the idea as a character flaw. But in a romantic novel of novels, it is perfect and Jean Valjean is perfect.
Trump Is the Content that Knocked “50 Shades” Off The Charts. What Will Displace Trump?
Trump has this thing in the bag and has had it in the bag since 2020. Naturally, the question follows, “How do we reconcile the headlines with this fact?” Answer: His base, his fans eat worry like it’s Wheaties. Trump’s loyalists are like America’s Mom. All worry—no peace. They always have been. They always will be. So no, there will never be “Trump has 10pt Lead in Every Single Swing State, and 30pt Lead in Wyoming!!” doozies on any legacy or otherwise sites.
Instead, the newspaper men and algorithms will continue to “sell” (hear: feed) headlines that there is a close race—maybe the closest ever!!—which necessarily implies both that Trump may lose (eek!!) and that it will be simpler for the Left to cheat (double eek!!!).
And why? Because they are in the business of selling stories.
Surely all of us are actually kinda tired of Trump. Maybe it would have been better if he won in 2020, by any means, just so it would’ve been only 8 years of Trump. Now we’re stuck with 12. Oh well.
But can you imagine what will sell newspapers/clicks when Trump is gone? Like, engage in a thought experiment with me for a moment. What is more, or at least as equally, outrageous than airing a nation’s dirty laundry during a televised, ahem, “presidential” debate.
I mean, I met a man at a Black Church in Denver back in 2016ish. He was displaced to Denver from the backwoods, and backwards, state of Louisiana during Katrina. He freely told me that he killed a goose that he had grabbed from the park. He said, “Peedah, everyone was so shocked and upset when they saw me do it.” Then he knowingly smiled and added, “But you can bet they came a-knockin’ when they smelled me cookin’ ‘im up!”
Now would this man’s story have made national news? Absolutely not. And why not? Because it’s pitiful. (He also shared that his sister drove off without him because she chose to fill her vehicle with “stuff” instead of her brother.)
But the idea that immigrants, illegal at that, are doing the same? That is downright shocking. It is appalling. It is sub-human and brings all manner of uncomfortable truths to the surface (America is different and better than BIPOC countries). No one laughs at the idea like I did with my new friend. So the newspaper men run it. Trump runs it. And we all (you all—I’m no sucker) eat it up. In a sense, Trump is like the EL James of American News—our guilty pleasure. What can follow him? Maybe we should ask, What followed 50 Shades?” Nothing.
Or Trump.
Mom’s read BDSM at the park on their Nooks and Kindle’s. Now everyone reads Trump on every screen, all day long.
What comes next? Something just as laughable, I suspect.
Flattery for Women. Like in This Post I Am Complimenting a Woman. Seriously.
Women don’t get “a pass” in my book. People who know me truly, know this about me truly.
The “compliment” that I read in a book and inspired this post is great (still included at the end), but in truth, “Women don’t get ‘a pass’ in my book,” (my hook for the post) is actually about the best compliment I could ever pay y’all.
You’re not weak; you’re not “special” in some “need extra allowances” sort of way. Dishes are dirty after you do them, same as men. You can figure out how to pull into a garage correctly, same as men. Wooden utensils still get ruined when left to soak absentmindedly in the sink for long periods of time. Some ice cream scoops are not dishwasher safe, for me and for you too. Kids don’t learn obedience only from fathers. Neither do they learn strength and steely character only from fathers. You do not get a pass, women. Hear me?
The following comes from Jack London’s short story, “The Wisdom of the Trail.” Sitka Charley is an injun, back when there were those. As for nearly all London tales, the setting is the great white Northlands. The only two words I would add is, “…land…sea…and air!”
****
“Sitka Charley did not know this kind of woman. Five minutes before, he did not even dream of taking charge of the expedi-tion; but when she came to him with her wonderful smile and her straight clean English, and talked to the point, without pleading or persuading, he had incontinently yielded. Had there been a softness and appeal to mercy in the eyes, a tremble to the voice, a taking advantage of sex, he would have stiffened to steel; instead her clear-searching eyes and clear-ringing voice, her utter frankness and tacit assumption of equality, had robbed him of his reason. He felt, then, that this was a new breed of woman; and ere they had been trail mates for many days he knew why the sons of such women mastered the land and the sea, and why the sons of his own womankind could not prevail against them. Tender and soft! Day after day he watched her, muscle-weary, exhausted, indomitable, and the words beat in upon him in a perennial refrain. Tender and soft! He knew her feet had been born to easy paths and sunny lands, strangers to the moccasined pain of the North, unkissed by the chill lips of the frost, and he watched and marveled at them twinkling ever through the weary day.”
We Must Stop the Hype!!
I have a rule. Each day, I won’t read anything until I have read from the Bible.
On night shifts, I sometimes break this rule, but only in its relative sense. The calendar day might have changed, but if the morning is the end of my shift, then I think I can justify perusing whatever strikes my fancy without incurring divine wrath.
The calendar day, then, today started with one of my favorite things to read: eulogies. And not just any eulogies opened the day, this April 20th of 2024, but the ones about the victims of the Columbine school massacre. If you have never read them, you owe it to yourself to find them and read them. They are terrible. The parents, or writers or whoever, should be ashamed. Did these people even know they were parents before their kids were murdered? You wouldn’t think so if you only read the eulogies. Nearly every sentence, and the sentiments behind them, vie unceasingly for the award of “Worst Ever Written”, but one stands out. “Her mother, Dawn Anna, helped coach the team.” What? I’m so confused. Your kid has been murdered and you want the world to know something about you? Lady: you had maybe 8 sentences with which to pay tribute to your daughter and you used one to highlight that showed up to a couple cheer practices? What is wrong with you?
Anyhow.
That was the first thing I read. The next was the Bible, Exodus chapter 35. Exodus should really be called “Building Yahweh’s Tabernacle”, if books should be entitled with words that indicate the general content. But what do I know? This particular section is not exactly riveting material, but the idea of taking a contribution only from people who possess a willing heart is certainly a good balance and teacher to how local churches should talk about tithes and offerings. And I can happily report that the Black Baptists are of a mind with scripture, in their words at least. “…A cheerful giver…” is almost always the only encouragement/exhortation when the weekly collection is taken up. Don’t believe me? Then head to a service tomorrow and see for yourself. (“cheerful giver”)
Next, I read “1.3 Volume forces and surface forces acting on a fluid” or, rather, part of that section of G.K. Batchelor’s An Introduction to Fluid Dynamics. I picked this book up to investigate if it may contain information useful to my quest to more fully understand the area of my professional operation—the sky. Today’s reading had another benefit, being this part of a sentence, “…is of course –S(n,x,t)dA, and since this is also the force represented by S(-n,x,t)dA, we see that S must be an odd function of n.” (S = Sigma, which character my keyboard here doesn’t easily offer for use.) My step-son is working through algebra and here was a perfect example of the truth of the assertion, “Math is the language of science.” So I called him to tell him so. You can imagine for yourself how excited he was to be shown this.
Next on the reading list for today was Sir Isaac Newton’s Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy, the section called “Scholium”. And it was amazing. I’ll just add here that the biggest lie you’ve ever believed is that science is hard. The actual inventors, Newton being King Inventor, necessarily make it easy to understand. Pick it up the next chance you have.
Then it was onto the essay The Art of Biography by Virginia Woolf. In it, she essentially announces that “biography” is neither fact, nor fiction, but something else entirely—and maybe the best thing.
Why do I share my readings of today with the blogosphere? Because I remember where I was as Columbine unfolded (at school myself, excitedly awaiting the final bell so I could go to work and then go see some new sci-fi movie, The Matrix, that was getting rave reviews) and I remember that people wanted me to believe the shooting was momentous and carried great import. And 25 years later, I know through and through with a certainty that is rarely found—they were wrong. No one cared then. No one cares now. The massacre should hardly have made the news. The eulogies should never make the news. It was a tragic, senseless crime. It was nothing more or less. Move on.
We must stop the hype!!
Captain’s Log 