Review of "The Secret Life of Words"

The Secret Life of Words: How English Became English by Henry Hitchings

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This should have been the perfect book for me - I'm a word lover, I love etymology, history, and social anthropology. Although I did enjoy reading it, I have to admit that I did have to force myself a bit to finish it. As many other reviews have noted, the book is exceedingly dry and has very little in the way of a narrative thread to connect the chapters. It feels more like a collection of articles in the same series, which becomes a bit tedious after a couple of hundred pages.

That said, I admit that my copy of this book is littered with dog-ears marking bits of interesting trivia or historical perspective. Many of the actual facts presented really are fascinating, I just wish they weren't presented as a series of facts.

Regarding the author's intellectually playful writing style, I can understand how it might irritate some readers, but I actually did enjoy it. Perhaps it's a bit of elitist pride showing through, but I admit that I did feel good about "getting it". There's a fine line between subtle ironic wordplay and eye-rolling punning, and I think Mr. Hitchings walked it pretty well.

Overall, I guess I'd say that I'm happier having read it than I was while actually reading it.


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Review of "A Christmas Carol"

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This was a little light. I read this hoping that it would be one of those "everybody knows the story, but actually reading the original is a wholly different experience" books. Nope! It was pretty much identical to the story you know.

Dickens is certainly capable of imbuing his work with depth and subtlety. The fact that there is none to be had here leads me to one of the following two conclusions: the cynical side of me concludes that this was a purely commercial venture, and a very successful one at that; the more hopeful side of me is led to believe that this was essentially a gifted author's Christmas gift to his readers, a nice, easy, simple and positive little story just meant to make people happy.



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On (not) seeing Joy Division

I went to see "Peter Hook presents Unknown Pleasures" Tuesday night. It was kind of an odd experience. There was no opening band, but there was a 30 minute video that they played on the stage screen before the show started, which was basically an odd little mish-mash of clips about Joy Division and New Order; there was no real narrative thread, and really no particular cohesion at all aside from the fact that they mostly featured Hooky.

After the video finished, he and his band ("Light", apparently) came on stage and started playing with no introduction or fanfare of any kind. Hooky's currently sporting a bit of extra weight & a short mohawk, and is looking every bit his age (at least), but that didn't really matter to me. At the first notes of the first song I was super excited, of course, for the same reason that I decided to go to the show in the first place: I've never heard a Joy Division song played live in person, and this was likely as close as I was going to get to seeing any modicum of the band itself.

The show itself was very hit and miss.

First, bad stuff: Hooky's voice isn't bad, but it's entirely unremarkable. For most of the concert - that is, for the entire actual performance of the album - he looked more like he was doing a job rather than actually being involved in the music. There was no audience interaction between songs, and I felt no connection to the performance. Hooky was never meant to be a front man. I was also a bit put off by the fact that he had a lyrics book out; granted Ian's lyrics are often very involved and don't lend themselves to memorization (I don't remember all the words to many of my favorite JD songs), but he's supposed to be a professional musician, for fuck's sake. During "She's Lost Control" he even came in four measures early on the second verse. The rest of the band pretty much did their best to be invisible, which is fine under the circumstances, and were adequately talented to play the music, though that honestly isn't really saying much since Joy Division barely knew how to play their instruments when these songs were written. So all in all, I was kind of disappointed by the end of the set.

Now good stuff: The audience was great, with the exception of the usual couple of assholes and weirdos. Everyone seemed to be big fans, and were extremely enthusiastic, which pretty much salvaged the show from the lack of passion on stage during the main set. That did change during the encores, however. As compared to the rest of the show, Hooky seemed to have a blast playing most of the songs in the encores, which were all Joy Division songs from other albums/sources. He finally seemed to be having a good time, and it changed the whole vibe of the concert. In particular, they ended with a freaking awesome version of Ceremony, which was a great way to end the show.

Now uncategorizable/personal stuff: I have to say, I felt a little uncomfortable watching Peter Hook sing these songs. I have a very personal relationship with Joy Division songs - and in particular with Ian's lyrics - and it felt a little bit offensive to see someone besides Ian singing them. I know that if anyone could be considered to have the "right" to sing JD now that Ian's gone it would be the surviving members of the band, but it still didn't feel right. I particularly felt that way about the songs with lyrics that were obviously intensely personal and/or autobiographical, like "I Remember Nothing" and (obviously) "Love Will Tear Us Apart". I hated hearing Hooky perform "Atmosphere" for the same reason I was happy that Anton Corbijn decided to end Control with the original version of that song - it just isn't "Atmosphere" with anyone else singing it. Ironically, I remember reading an article about that movie where Hooky said the same thing.

Overall, I had a good time, and I would go again if I had the chance, but it wasn't exactly the experience I was hoping for.

Insert song lyric about fire here

My apartment building caught on fire week before last, and I never did blog about it. For posterity's sake, though, I kind of feel like I should. THEREFORE:

At a little before 5AM, I woke up to the sound of an alarm bell ringing. At first it just insinuated itself into my dreams, as those kinds of things do when your mind is fighting to stay asleep, but sadly I can't remember how. Anyway, once the smell of burning residence started to accompany the bell, I figured I should probably at least see what was going on.

My first thought was that the bell sounded like it was coming from across the street, which I was pleased about, since it meant I could go back to sleep. It wasn't until later that I realized that was kind of a crappy thing to think.

As the smell grew, and as I could start to hear the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles, I figured it was really time to get up. When a peak out of my living room window showed that the people on the street were looking up at my building, I figured it was time to grab some clothes and get out. Now that I don't live with cats I couldn't think of anything that I really couldn't live with being burned, so I just grabbed my keys and went outside to join the milling-about.

I started seeing if there was anyone who had more info than I did, or if there were at least someone that I'd be able to talk to for a bit. I realized that I know not a single one of my neighbors now that Katie's moved out, which kind of depressed me. I did eventually end up talking to a pretty cool lady who was out there with a kitty carrier, so that certainly helped pass the time while watching the firefighters, in full regalia, march through the building in gas masks and snake their big-ass hoses in through the lobby. My worry was that they would have to enter the units, and mine was in a state of such messiness that I would have been embarrassed to be associated with it.

I sent a tweet/FB post from my phone saying "great, now my building is on fire", which people later told me was so calm sounding that they assumed was either a joke or a quote from something. I also sent a text to Donna, since she has a connection to the place having previously lived there, and just because she's always the one I tell first when I have big news.

Eventually the head firefighter came over and talked to us, and he was everything a head firefighter should be: in his early to mid forties, tall with a bit of doughiness starting to overlay a powerful build, and just the right amount of "grizzled", 'cause you just can't have a head firefighter who's not grizzled. He told us that the fire started in unit 103, which is happily about as far from me (in 408) as is possible in the building, and that the damage was limited to that apartment and perhaps the one next to it. His men were just checking the air quality throughout the building for carbon-dioxide and -monoxide, and that we'd be able to go in after about 10 minutes. At that point I was fully awake, so after we were let back in I pretty much just brushed my teeth, took my medicine, and headed to work.

I pretty much see it as an oddly positive experience; I got in early to work, my place didn't burn down, I got to meet a couple of my neighbors, and I got a story out of it.

Things I loathe: election season edition

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!

I don't believe that Rick Larsen eats babies!
I don't believe Patty Murray is a Nazi!
I don't believe Dino Rossi killed a man just to watch him die!
I don't believe Susan DelBene is a Romulan spy!
I don't believe Dave Reichert bathes in the blood of his enemies!

I JUST WANT TO WATCH THE EFFING NEWS BEFORE WORK! I HATE YOU ALL!

Why are you in my spot?

People's intense self-focus constantly amazes me. It also tends to infuriate me, but I've been working on being more accepting of the fact that I really don't know other people's minds or circumstances.

Every week I see dozens of examples, and they never fail to amaze. The bus pulls up to a stop, and before the doors even open people at the stop are walking up to enter; apparently it never even occurs to them that someone might be getting off the bus first, and they invariably have to back out (sometimes at the driver's insistence) until the other passengers have come out.

Waiting for the elevator in the lobby, as soon as they hear that 'ding' people are already walking towards the opening elevator doors; apparently it doesn't occur to them that perhaps there were people riding the elevator down, who will have to get out before they can get on.

In the bathroom, people will confidently stride up and pull hard on a stall door as opposed to looking to see if the latch is turned; apparently it never crosses their minds that the stall latch isn't made of reinforced titanium, and it's possible that they'll wrench open the door only to find someone inside in a compromising position.

It makes me want to shake them: "Other people do exist! The world wasn't built just for you!"

I don't have the perspective to comment on whether this phenomenon is a universal aspect of human nature, or if it's an aspect of Western or American culture, but it does remind me of a comment Eddie Izzard made in concert when a reference to some international event was met with a sea of blank faces: "You do know that there are other countries, right?"

Review of "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man"

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Text, Criticism & Notes by James Joyce

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I am glad that I read the edition of this book that I did, which also contained criticism, notes, and related texts. Not only was the literary criticism very well selected, edited, and arranged, it also genuinely added to the overall experience of the book to be able to see how reactions to it have evolved over the years.

The notes/glossary, though somewhat limited, also helped a great deal. It give definitions of particularly Irish turn-of-the-century idioms and colloquialisms, translates the sometimes copious Latin, and gives context and definition for the many references to the minutiae of the Catholic faith. It also elucidates some of the references to Classical literature and poetry.

Which leads me to the one thing about Joyce that really bothers me: the constant deluge of references. I appreciate the extreme usefulness of references to history and literature: it can instantly provide a complex, sometimes even ineffable backdrop or comparison to the situation. Reference "Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!" from Macbeth, and you call to mind a psychological and situational image with a single stroke that would be difficult or impossible to achieve by direct description.

The problem is that Joyce's references are often obscure, subtle, and essential to fully understanding the story. Without a concordance of some sort, Stephen's climactic shout of "Nothung!" in Ulysses - referencing a hero's sword from Wagner - would be utterly meaningless to me. References to the historic and theological differences between small groups of Catholic sub-sects would have been completely lost on me.

That said, James Joyce is unassailably a literary genius. He himself said that he could "justify every word in my book"; in my opinion anything other than a fully engaged reading of every word results in missing some nuance, some subtlety that was there by intention. It can be a bit daunting, since it all but guarantees that one will indeed miss a great deal of nuance and subtlety in the course of reading this book. At the same time, that can be said of most great works of art, in my opinion. It is the reason that continually studying them continually yields rewards.

I am both looking forward to and apprehensive about reading Ulysses.


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Catharsis, necessitated by jackassery

We hired three additional temps in my department to take care of some specific large volume tasks. One of the two guys is sorta ok, neither here nor there. The girl is also fine, not someone I'd be good friends with, but we get along. The other guy is a pretentious conceited jackass douche bag. With a Napoleon complex. They all sit together, and I get to hear their conversation all day long. It's come to the point that I grit my teeth every time this guy starts to talk.

In order to prevent myself from freaking out, I've decided to spend my first break of the day relating some of this morning's conversation.

Talking about biking:

• Douchey guy: "I rode all the way from Fremont to Redmond one day. That's like 28 miles."
• Other guy: "I've only ridden that far once, down to Kent"
• Douchey guy: "That's not bad, but my ride had a lot more hills."
• Girl: "It wouldn't do much good for me to ride my bike to work - well actually I don't have a bike,"
• Douchey guy, cutting in: "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't do much good then!"
• Girl: "Yeah, but even if I did, it's all steep downhill from where I live to work, and I'd have to walk my bike home, since there's no way I could ride up the James Street hill from here"
• Douchey guy: "You know, there's this other neat invention for going up hills, called a 'bus'"
• Girl: "Yeah, I guess that's true"
• Douchey guy: "When I was in Sweden they had this cool system that you could hook your leg into and it would drag you up the hill"
• Girl: "Did you yodel while you were doing it?"
• Douchey guy: "I don't know why I would. You do know that yodeling is from Switzerland, not Sweden or Norway, right? You do know that those places are actually really far away from each other, right?"
• Girl: "True; actually my family is mostly from Sweden"
• Douchey guy: "If you were from Sweden, you know that you'd be really offended if someone said something about people yodeling in your country, right?"

My personal favorite came while they were discussing which fast food places are from which parts of the country.

• Other guy: "There are a bunch of Popeye's Chicken places in Tacoma, but the nearest one to here is in Renton."
• Douchey guy, jumping in: "No. It's closed down."
• Other guy: "Actually I was there on Tuesday"
• Douchey guy: "Oh. Well you know there's so many in Tacoma because there's so many of something else in Tacoma too, right?"
• Other guy: "Huh?"
• Douchey guy: "You know why there's so many Popeye's in Tacoma?"
• Other guy, innocently: "Because people there like their fried chicken?"
• Douchey, racist guy: "Yes they do..."

I was sorely tempted to ask him if there were many watermelon stands in Tacoma.

Ok, I guess I feel a little better now...

Us v. Them, over and over again

It never even occurs to me to actually write in my blog. I'm not sure why, really, since I muse on things constantly - it's just that if I'm not actually talking to another person, I don't feel overly compelled to express them. Plus I have the feeling that my own standards of clarity and cohesion would make the process more of a trial than a pleasure, and take far more time than I'm likely to want to devote to the process. I suppose that the next time I'm thinking about something, I'll try to find a handy keyboard and see if I can't bang out something.

This morning I was thinking about the pervasive importance of "same" and "different" when it comes to human psychology. I can understand where it comes from a social evolutionary perspective: as humans became increasingly reliant on intelligence rather than physicality to survive, individuals became far more vulnerable than communities, and the Us vs. Them mentality strongly promotes bonding and cooperation in a group. The thing that I find so fascinating is the ubiquity and power of this tendency throughout our history. It seems like group identity has been one of the primary (or perhaps THE primary) constant when it comes to human interaction on any scale. Be it a sense of identity based on religious principals, geography (from the level of villages to nations), language, race and ethnicity, philosophy, age, sex, or any of a seemingly unending list of attributes and beliefs, people are constantly aware of who is one of Us and who is one of Them.

The correlate of the sense of bonding and belonging between members of the former is the sense of fear and animosity towards the latter. It is the essence of group conflicts of any level; it would be impossible to imagine a war that wasn't based on the idea of "same" and "different" because it is the definition of war that two self-identified groups enter into a conflict based on a shared value, whatever it may be. Perhaps Col. Hunter Gathers expressed it best in The Venture Brothers: "The minute God crapped out the third cave man, a conspiracy was hatched against one of them!"

It seems like the struggle to overcome - or at least to master - this basic principal of our nature is itself a defining aspect of our struggle to be a more mature species. In politics of any level you can hear the constant attempt to both respect and honor the group identities that we admire (e.g., culture, patriotism, faith, community) and to decry and denigrate the group identities that we see as detrimental (e.g., racism, sexism, distaste of the poor). The fundamental inconsistency is that these are all based on exactly the same ideal; "cultural pride" becomes "racism", "patriotism" becomes "jingoism", and "community in faith" becomes "religious intolerance".

None of this is new; as I said, it seems to be a fundamental aspect of our evolutionary history. The positive aspect of this struggle is that it does push us to be more mature as individuals and in our respective groups. It is of course easier for people who have the luxury of a first-world lifestyle to muse on the evils wrought by the "us vs. them" nature of humanity; the more stress a person is under, the more powerful the drive to form protective alliances and groups becomes, and for good reason. I think that's the best argument for the immense respect we should have for groups that have managed to maintain tolerance and compassion even when under incredible stress. The very existence of the Buddhist religion in Tibet is all but miraculous.

I am the biggest dork in the universe, and I invite you all to make fun of me.

I found my car.

While sorting some laundry this afternoon I found my remote door lock thingy for my car, and with a sardonic smirk I stuck it in my pocket. Later, when I was on my way to the store, I thought about a remark a friend of mine had made earlier in the day, that when his car was stolen he later ended up finding it himself just a few blocks away from where it was taken, so I thought it would be interesting to press the Lock-and-Beep button on the remote as I was walking. After all, it's got about a half-block range, and it would be funny if I managed to find it that way.

When I got to the store, I walked to the door via the underground parking lot. I pressed. I heard. I did a double take, pressed again, heard the horn again. I caught a glimpse of my car, and without even going over to it, I turned around and walked back to my apartment to grab the car key that I'd taken off my key ring. I walked back, went in the store without going through the lot, and did my shopping. Despite trying to think of all possibilities, Occam's Razor tore them all to shreds except one: that I had actually driven to the store, and walked home without my car.

I immediately remembered the very first thing that Donna asked me when we found that my car was gone, which was if it was possible I drove somewhere and left my car there. Well, actually she asked me whether I got drunk and drove it somewhere and forgot about it, to which I can still answer "no", but the essence is the same.

The scant points in my defense:

1 - I never drive to the store. I actually feel guilty driving to the store as it's only about four blocks away, and I can always do with more exercise, plus the whole environment thing. The only time I ever drive to the store is when I know I'm going to be buying something really heavy, like lots of liquids, or cat litter, or something else I wouldn't want to try and carry home. I can't even remember the last time that might have been the case, though. The only other time would be when I'm coming home from somewhere and decide to stop in for something on the way, and generally I remember it when I've been driving for the last 20 minutes before going in.

2 - I actually did try to think of anywhere I might have left it, and even checked in the parking lot of my doctor's office, which was the only place I could remember driving to where it would even be a possibility that I might have taken a bus home by accident. I wracked my brain for anywhere else I might have driven, but the only times I even use my car these days is when I'm going somewhere far. I work downtown, so I take the bus there and walk home, and most of the time if I'm going out it's either also downtown or it's somewhere that it's easier to take a bus to than it is to find a place to park.

3 - Hmm. Nope, nothing.

As I was finishing my shopping, I saw that there was a buy two, get two free sale on 12-packs of canned soda, so I picked up four packs of the heavy awkward things. I also started composing this blog entry in my head, since I knew I'd have to find a way to tell everyone of my idiocy.

Come to think of it, I guess I can fill in #3 on the above list: at least I didn't bitch and moan endlessly about how my car was stolen, or feel sorry for myself. In fact, everyone I did tell remarked that they would be far more upset than I was, so at least I can't be accused of playing for pity.

I called to cancel my police report, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell the cops that I'd just left my car somewhere (though I highly doubt it would be novel for them). I told them I found it in a parking lot near my apartment. Technically true, though I did say it was roughly around Western and Denny, which is pushing the definition of "roughly". As compared to all of Seattle, then yes, it was roughly by Western and Denny. I also told them that I didn't find anything that could be seen as evidence in the car; also technically true. I don't know why I didn't just tell them I was a moron, which would have been more than technically true.

At least I've learned a few things from this embarrassing experience. First, Seattle has a really good public transportation system, though getting to certain areas is a giant pain in the ass (how on earth could it take 50 minutes to go from downtown to the U District?) Second, I can get along just fine without a car as long as I have enough time, and don't have to bring much of anything with me. Third, if you need a place to leave your car for three weeks (which include multiple events at Seattle Center and Key Arena) without anyone messing with it, feel free to use the front spots in the Safeway parking lot, a few feet from the big sign that says "NO EVENT PARKING, LOT MONITORED 24 HOURS A DAY". And fourth, that I apparently black out and drive to grocery stores sometimes, then walk home without remembering.

I wish I could be a Whig - or - Glenn Beck ruined the word "Conservative"

Life is very hard for us Independents at the moment. "Fiscally conservative and socially liberal!" isn't a very effective rallying cry these days.

Assuming that there are two poles in politics – left and right, liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, etc. – I would like to still believe in the existence of a bell-curve in relation to Americans' relative association with either side. Unfortunately, it increasingly seems like what is emerging is more like a valley – people are piling up near each of the extremes, leaving as few individuals in the middle as there are on the bleeding edges.

My hope is that what is actually happening is what has been the case many times before, which is that the people near the extremes tend to be the ones who get the most attention; they scream the loudest, say the most outrageous things, and generally make themselves more of a spectacle then the majority of people. You don't generally tell your spouse about the 10,000 competent drivers you encountered on the way home from work, you tell them about the two jackasses who cut you off. The difficulty is trying to remember not to extrapolate that to "people around here drive like maniacs".

If there's one positive thing that could be said for the political atmosphere of the 80s and early 90s, it's that "Conservative Democrat" and "Liberal Republican" weren't immediately seen as oxymoronic.