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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