Tagged: Writing

Forest, Forrest Gump, A Joint Review of The Overstory by Richard Powers and Forrest Gump by Robert Zemeckis

The film Forrest Gump is simply a classic. I know it. You know it. And that’s all I have to say about it.

The Overstory, by Richard Powers, while provocative, was written with enough smugness to need this direct accusation of thematic plagiarism to ground it. Here is my accusation in full: In the end, Richard Powers’ The Overstory offers its readers little more than they already experienced in the film Forrest Gump—that is, a nostalgia-filled game of “memory”, though this new version is chemically-boosted by a fun combination of fabulist storytelling and apparently un-simpleton plants (or more accurately plantae or vegetation) as lens.

With that out of the way, let’s get to some detailed analysis. First up, I feel that I owe you, dear reader, an explanation of how I ended up reading this book. I owe this to you, faithful follower, because you know that I have stated many, many times that I have nearly vowed to never read anything newer than 100 years old, because the classics are the classics for a reason—they are better! Why waste time?

Life threw a curveball, however. I recently moved back to Colorado (mental note: never ever leave again) and this event saw me box up my nice library of classic books that I am diligently working through. As a reader and planner, I kept a couple books out, of course. But not enough, it turned out.

On one trip between Minnesota and Heaven, I stayed with my rich brother and his wife and planned to borrow the first of what I recall was a trilogy of fantasy books I had randomly given them at Christmas a few years back. I was jones’n for easy-to-read, escapist fiction. Unfortunately, and tellingly, they couldn’t recall the location of that box set.

None taken.

Genuinely wanting to rectify the situation, my brother looked over a tiny bookshelf—so small—and, like Belle in the bookstore, chose, The Overstory.

“Here. You might like this one. It’s about-”

“-No need, S-,” I cut in. “As long as it’s fiction, I’ll figure it out.

“Oh. And thanks.”

I set off on the second half of my drive and later that week began to read.

It was miserable. Pulitzer Prize? I thought. This is garbage. I think it’s woke, too. Something is off about it. It feels a little too Greta and not enough William.

A few more pages in, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to read some of the critical acclaim and the previously forgone description from the back. I had to get some sort of context.

Eco-fiction? I knew it. This is garbage. It’s not even a novel. It’s propaganda. I feel like a card-carrying Nazi.

However, if there’s anything I hate more than eco-fiction antifa propoganda, it’s quitting on a book.

“S-. Did you actually read this? I’m finding it very hard to read.”

“Na. I only made it about 50 pages, if that.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, oh. I see. I’ll relax then. I was getting worried that you thought I needed to read it. Gotcha. Might still be propaganda, but at least it isn’t brother-on-brother crime.”

So I kept reading. Slowly it grew on me. Like most books tend to do.

Then something miraculous happened.

“But one day she’s reading Abbott’s Flatland…” Powers writes.

“No way!” I said to myself.

You see, on a previous work trip for the new job, I encountered the same problem of no easy fiction. So I found a sweet used bookstore in Denton, TX, of all places, and boldly asked the college dude behind the counter for recommendations in fantasy/sci-fi short stories. After he brought me to the appropriate section of the shelves, he lit up as he pulled down Flatland.

“This is a must read!” he explained.

I fully agree.

But how in the world can you explain my having just read Flatland after a random recommendation from a random bookstore I had no business stopping in, and then stumbling onto a second non-classic book which refers back to the previous one as if everyone would obviously have been aware of the merely cult favorite? It defies explanation. But it was all I needed to keep reading Powers.

And I am glad I did.

The Overstory is not poetry in the sense that Shelley meant. It is far too technical and, as mentioned, smug. Too naive. Too progressive. Too dry, at times. But the story is compelling, and buyer beware, if true, the stuff about vegetation’s intelligence and ability (not to mention old, old age) and the detailed accounts of eco-terrorists and their deluded—yet unshakable—belief that we’re all missing something feels authentic.

Onto the terrible. One example of the smug faults of the book must be offered. And it relates back to that used bookstore in Denton. Besides Flatland, the kid also handed me Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman, accompanied by his opinion that Gaiman is the “greatest living writer”. Wow.

Juxtaposed against the author’s of the “classics”, I quickly noticed how this Gaiman would attempt to show-off his mental powers by summarizing enormous works of classic literature in a word, or worse, one emotion. Smug.

And Powers does the same. A sign of the times, I guess.

But what I am talking about, the one drop of oil that ruins the entire ships water supply, has to do with more than fancy-pants pith. My children are old enough to pick up The Overstory offy shelf. They would not know the references to literary greats. No harm, no foul. But what about this line,

She has told him about the Judean date palm seed, two thousand years old, found in Herod the Great’s palace on Masada—a date pit from a tree-

…wait for it…

–that Jesus himself might have sampled-

…not yet…

–the kind of tree that Muhammad said was made of the same stuff as Adam.

BOOM!

Are you kidding me?

Do you seriously want me to believe that you believe this?

Only a moron in the 21st century would equate Muhammad and Jesus—themselves separated by six centuries of time, not to mention the plane between heaven and hell. And more to the point, illiterate Muhammad most certainly did not offer any commentary—nor could he have—on some particular species of tree that most certainly was not distinguishable from any other tree to this ignorant man who couldn’t distinguish the biblical Trinity—Father, Son, Spirit—from whatever bastardized version he heard about and further twisted in his undiscerning, savage head into “father, son, Mary”. Give me a fucking break, Dick. You go too far.

Excuse me. Something comes out of me when it comes to the name of our Lord and Savior.

Want me to consider your point about deforestation? Okay.

Want me to overlook your hubristic take on religion while doing so? No can do.

But not every book can be a classic. So it’s forgivable. I forgive you, Mr. Powers. Both for the Muhammad thing and for the Forrest Gump thing.

Maybe next time.

As for me, back to the classics.

When It Comes to Israel, Please Try to Focus

Terrorists—not some internationally recognized State military—executed a terror attack on Israel.

How does the en vogue question, “Whose land is it?” relate to the war?

Debates are being had across the world regarding some idea of “a two-State solution”—has Hamas made such a demand? Have they suggested that they will cease hostilities if only…? Moreover, is anyone in Hamas actually in possession of enough integrity to believe, even if they have?

Some heavy hitters in academia suggest that the claims of Israel’s tie to the Land—especially as it regards the Messiah—within the books of the Bible are irrelevant, having clearly lost out to publicly recorded statements and votes by nearly all leaders, on nearly any level in favor of a two-state solution. Is any Israeli earnestly citing scripture in an attempt to denounce Hamas or secure their country?

Then we come to my personal favorite of the many distractions from the issue, being the cries against violence upon innocents. “But the IDF is killing innocent people!”, they wail.

When it comes to Israel, please try to focus.

There is a difference between an academic discussion, or put concretely, a classroom discussion, and war. By my thinking, the only people who don’t seem to understand this might be thought of analogous to the two apparently ugly and old flight attendants at United who are pissed because they haven’t ever been selected to work as supermodels on Dodger’s charter flights.

Talk that is focused on the war sounds like a yes/no answer to this question: should Israel have your support (indirect as it might be) in their war?

I say, “Yes.”

You may disagree. That doesn’t revoke your US Citizenship. Just please don’t skip to the nuanced reasons for your position before stating it. That’s lazy and cowardly. The question of war is not answered by debate. Focus. Answer the question. And stop pretending that “reasons” are the answer. Please, if you fancy talking about the topic, focus and answer.

Tragic, Mostly True, and Wildly Naive (Even for Minnesotans), A Review of “In The Dark S1”, by Madeleine Baran

Despite the war in Israel, we all still have to work. And my new job happened to require my taking a heroic 12-hour road trip across this great land. For obvious reasons, I asked my family and friends for podcast recommendations.

The only one that came in was, “In The Dark”, by the New Yorker. It is a “True Crime” podcast. In other words, it is very similar to the, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill,” podcast that captured our attention a few years ago. If you’re uninitiated, then just think “long form journalism”. These types of podcasts are probably more easy to listen to at length than audiobooks, but that likely depends on the genre. In a word, they are binge-able.

This particular season, as it turned out, was all about a crime that occurred in Minnesota, the state I have been living and working in for the last four years. I immediately had a visceral reaction. It almost made me sick to my stomach. I felt like I knew exactly what this young, passionate, and indignant female investigator was about to bring to light.

For context, in case you live under a rock, there is a thing called “Minnesota Nice” up there. It’s surely unique and deserving of a unique name, but mostly it is similar to passive-aggressive behavior—nice-to-your-face-but-will-not-hesitate-to-viciously-cut-you-down-behind-your-back. (Naturally this is not limited to political boundaries of Minnesota, but the folks up there have perfected the art.)

The real “Minnesota Nice”, however, is far more annoying. The singular “Minnesota Nice” manifests itself most plainly when the Minnesotans play the part of perfect victim. They portend to not want attention or any ruffled feathers, but they will meticulously lay out all the perfect steps they took and “don’ cha know?” it didn’t stop the tragedy that those steps should’ve stopped. It’s like they’re seeking to be known as simultaneously the smartest and most unfortunate people on the Earth.

Remember, though! They did everything perfectly the way the system is designed to work, but “darn it”, they just couldn’t see the future after all! Who can?!

Like I said, it’s annoying.

(If you need a contemporary example that far outweighs the paltry example of this podcast, just consider the Minnesota Lutherans who specifically invited the Somalis. It’s a nightmare—but “we just were trying to help those who needed it most”.)

Back to the podcast. It clearly passed the time. I was cruising through episode after episode without even noticing the mile markers or the minute hand. So good work Miss Baran.

But my overall critique is that it was unduly unfocused.

In a long form magazine writing class I took several years ago, the professor taught us that when writing and reading long form pieces, we should be able to answer, “What is it about about?” For example, a long form article about the process of making french fries is not just a detailed recipe, but about a community that is dying or some terrible working conditions or climate change.

This doesn’t mean it isn’t about french fries. It just means that it is truly—if written well—about the other thing.

The trick, to be sure, is to just have only one about about.

And that’s the biggest criticism I have of this podcast. It’s about a notable missing child case that went unsolved for twenty plus years. But the about(s) about is a myriad of things to include a. the morality and effectiveness of publicly accessible national sex offender databases, b. revenge, c. punishment, d. role of law enforcement, e. grief, f. illusions of safety in small towns, and easily a few others.

The most pointed line which I believe she would agree summarizes her about about (for my thinking) was, “…and there is no government program responsible for making sure Sheriffs do their job!!” (Paraphrased.) Miss Baran more than once suggests that peer review and/or boards like other professions have are long overdue for law enforcement.

For my thinking, however, the most compelling storyline (and she did spend so much time on this that I thought it was her about about for a while) was how this one case was so pivotal in creating the sex offender database, and that by all accounts and measures, those databases are meaningless and ineffective—not to mention overly mean-spirited.

Then there was a possible about about regarding the fantastic incongruence that the kidnapping in question—which spawned the public databases—wouldn’t have been prevented by the database because the kidnapper wasn’t a known sex offender. That’s a doozy to contemplate.

And there were others.

And that’s my point. There were too many. So many, in fact, that the podcast fails.

Where the podcast fails, where it falls flat on its face and reveals that it is a far cry from real-deal quality reporting, is in its basic, and naive, presumption that the terrifically inept small town law enforcement departments have something to so with deterring criminal behavior.

The boy was murdered within the same night that he was kidnapped. No amount of police work can prevent a crime like that. And the experts on child kidnapping which ends in murder (whom she interviewed) said as much.

The sequence that would’ve had to happen to prevent the boy’s death is as follows:

1. Boy reported kidnapped by friends.

2. The “government” workers who were tasked to help then know to disregard all answers to their questions except the one neighbor who claimed to see a blue car turn around in his driveway.

3. The “government” workers somehow think to call nearby towns in ever expanding concentric circles to see if any weirdos have blue cars.

4. The “government” workers who answer their phone that night in a town 20 miles away happen to recall there is a man in his town that never breaks the law but is weird and drives a blue car.

5. Now that “government” worker tasks others in his town to go to the weirdos home and ask anyone there or nearby where he is.

6. When no one knows, they ask, “Is there anyone who knows where he liked to take boys to molest them?”

7. Then the “government” workers orchestrate a plan to travel to every single location listed—but especially the correct one.

8. As they approach, the “government” workers in their “government” cars keep their sirens and lights off. (The killer confessed that he decided to kill the boy when some cop car spooked him.)

9. Then the “government” worker who happens to pull up to the killer and boy somehow doesn’t themself break the law (can’t just shoot him) but prevents the killer from killing the boy (which he did—so he says—because he got spooked by a nearby “government” vehicle).

10. And all this before cell phones and within a couple hours of step 1.

Ten easy steps. And, had they been followed, Madeleine Baran would have nothing to do.

In case you missed it, this lengthier than normal blog post of mine is supposed to be a mimic of long form journalism. And my about about is the illogical, though trending for most of the Anthropocene, position of suggesting government problems can be fixed by more government.

My Favorite Part of the New War

My favorite part of the new war in the Middle East (totally serious—this is a new thought for me and I think it is worth your consideration) is the part where the bad guys take time to translate their words into English.

Hahahahahaha.

It’s like they secretly know what we all know (which is, “No one agrees with you!!”), but they can’t admit it. But if they don’t translate to the lingua franca, then they feel it too strongly. And that sucks. So instead they go ahead and neuter themselves with as great an effort as possible rather than die insignificantly.

Too funny.

The Special Psychosis Behind AI Fear Mongering

The “threat” of AI is no more and no less than the threat within the act of “texting while driving”.

I mean to apply this analogy in both the case of you texting while you’re driving—a risky endeavor which can end in tragedy for you and a few others if you cause a wreck—and also in the case of you (not texting and driving) being struck by someone else who was texting and driving.

That’s the “threat”—no more, no less.

Everyone calling for concern at the level of atom bombs and armageddon is suffering from a special psychosis.

In other words, ignore them.

Better yet, put down the phone. Focus on the road.

Two Random, Intriguing Thoughts on Friday

I realized this morning while sitting at the hotel breakfast that all the wonky Dr. Seuss characters (the Zeds, Noothgrushs, Tweetle-Beetles etx.) are actually not wonky but exact replications—in 2D—of people.

Secondly, and more importantly if you’re on a quest for meaning like me, I realized an important fact. Those of us with “guardian” personalities—I’m talking military, police, first responders etc—are frustrated and angered as a rule, almost necessarily so, because we see (from our perches as “guardians”) folks wasting our efforts. As in, “In post-armageddon dystopias, where rule-of-law is only foreign scribbles on the pages of unread books, you’d be able to dye your hair blue, but you choose to do that while I’m on shift? And in response to having to eat oatmeal instead of a smoothie for breakfast as a kid? Ahh. What am I even doing here?!”

On NASCAR Drivers Getting Suspended for Social Meeja Activities

A NASCAR driver was suspended the other day for “liking” a post which changed the word “sea” to “knee” in the Little Mermaid song “Under the Sea” and overlayed these lyrics to the infamous picture of the one and only, and murdered, Mr. George Floyd.

Here’s the apology as recorded by the young man.

“I am disappointed in myself for my lack of attention and actions on social media,” Gragson posted Saturday. “I understand the severity of this situation. I love and appreciate everyone. I try to treat everyone equally no matter who they are. I messed up plain and simple.”

I enjoy a challenge. So I’m challenging myself to apologize/react better. Not just to coach him as he was clearly coached here, (despite the tone sounding kinda genuine), but to actually step into his shoes and tell the truth. (I say his reaction was clearly coached as it contains the self-flagellation bit: “disappointed in myself”, the particular sin: socially unacceptably unaware of “severity”, and irrefutable defense of general character: “I love everyone”, and restatement of remorse: “messed up”. In short, authentic talking doesn’t sound like that. Nor does that “apology” actually mean anything. So I want to see if I can walk in his shoes and react to his suspension in a way that both gets his job back and is bounded by the truth.)

Here goes.

****

“I am not going to change the way I live because of this suspension. You want me to explain? Here it is.

“If you took a moment to look at my life, you’d have to conclude I am living my dream. There are hard days, sure. But mostly, I just go by instinct and it has proven successful. To be clear, you all would be gravely mistaken if you took me for a thinker. Hell, I barely ever read. I just ‘do’. And this happens to make me good at racing cars.

“In any case, I don’t want to be a thinker. So I’m not going to change. Someone will pay me to race.

“Oh, and, if you think my having thoughtlessly ‘liked’ a post on Insta reveals some sort of character flaw, that it is evidence of some deep, dark, shameful belief system that is bad for me and is yet another black cloud for NASCAR on the topic of Dee-Eee-Ayye, then you should know that, again, I think you are the one in error.

“That’s the end of my thoughts on the suspension. All this thinking is starting to make my head hurt.”

****

Whaddya tink? Scale of 1-10, ten being tops, how’s my effort hit ya?

My Review of Oppenheimer, by Christopher Nolan

I’ve always heard that the newspaper USA Today was written at a third grade reading level. A reading level is an interesting concept. Try this sentence from USA Today’s The Weather Book by Jack Williams, “A fusion reaction fuses atoms together, creating other kinds of atoms and giving off energy.”

No third grader on earth could understand whatever that means. A few savants may sound smart trying, but keep in mind that they would never actually be explaining that sentence to us.

I also remember that in the 1950s children encyclopedia, so-called The Book of Knowledge, the author of the chapter on “atoms” began by having a child imagine cutting up a candle into smaller parts. And then smaller parts. And then smaller parts. Even then, you could still reform the candle parts back into shape. But, the author went on, there are even smaller parts, which when the candle is cut down to these teeny sizes, it wouldn’t matter what happened, they could not reassemble to build a candle.

Can anyone explain that concept? I feel like I get it. But it’s basically saying that there is something besides the obvious ingredients comprising the obvious objects. And that fact is something I can repeat, but I do not understand it.

The problem, so far as I can tell, is essentially one of “barrier to entry”. Atoms and Fusion Reactions require knowledge of such things as very few of us will ever think it worthwhile to learn and master.

Therefore, allow me to state the obvious: if you leave the theater believing that you now know something about atom bombs, you’re fooling yourself.

Mr. Nolan doesn’t abstain from attempting a layman’s explanation, but he also doesn’t belabor the point. Perhaps he doesn’t get it either.

The reason I open the review with this lengthy aside is because I, as I suspect you, had nursed the idea that maybe Nolan could succeed where others failed when I first heard he was making this movie. But he didn’t really even try. And I was a fool for thinking he might. The film is called, “Oppenheimer,” not, “Atom Bomb.”

Moving to my next hope for the movie.

Does Mr. Nolan satisfy my curiosity about the man Oppenheimer, which is bracketed by the following two questions:

1. What exactly was his role in the “invention”?

2. How would some nerdy academic handle being responsible for such death then and forevermore?

Yes. And no.

The way he accomplishes this paradox is by sticking to purely emotional storytelling where paradox is not forbidden. While there are many moments which caused me to wonder, “Did that really happen?,” there were many more which unexpectedly evoked near tears and kept me deep in contemplation about implications of what Nolan seemed to be trying to say rather than poised to fact check every seeming “they must have a record of this” moment.

On the whole, everything about the movie works. The chosen vessel for storytelling works. The casting works. The psycho-sapio sex scene works. The conveyance of palpable stress works. And, most importantly, the a-bomb test works.

Can You Tell the Difference Between the Ideal Government and Ideal Christianity?

This should be a simple test, no? Here goes.

Is the following an ideal of government or of Christianity?

A. You will never die.

B. You can live forever after you die.

A. No consequences to decisions.

B. Consequences to decisions.

A. End of crime.

B. Justice in the afterlife metered out by the perfect judge.

A. At-will termination of unwanted pregnancy.

B. Care for orphans.

A. End of bodily suffering.

B. Learn from those who suffer.

A. Free food for all.

B. Thankfulness for food.

A. Free housing.

B. Thankfulness for shelter.

A. Student debt cancellation.

B. Definition of morality including “self-control”.

A. Harmony of all people groups everywhere.

B. Hope for the coming Kingdom of God to usher in new Heavens and new Earth.

****

Don’t be a sucker, folks.

The point of this little exercise, which we could continue, is to highlight the truly ridiculous claims of government (and those who want more government) against the backdrop of the supposedly ridiculous claims of the Bible writers.

The exercise should also serve to clarify to any parties actually interested to know what is meant when their Christian neighbors are “anti-government”. It’s not actually “government” that we see as the problem. Lies are the problem. Christians are anti-lie.

Two more examples.

You want me to stop believing that there is life after death? Gotta try a lot harder than suggesting that someone-not-named-me can solve “death”.

Want me to stop believing that abortion is wrong? Gotta try a lot harder than suggesting that someday soon children will only come from perfectly demographic’d couples and thoroughly thoughtful (yet passionate) sexcapades.

And on and on.

Government could be okay. But the lies would have to stop.

PS – All “A” are government. All “B” are Christianity.