August

I was asked by a co-worker during a conversation about hobbies out of work, when I have time to do all the things that I do. The specific thing in question was designing and building a metro rail system for all my friends in Minecraft in order to speed up overall mining operations. Not that, past this, I claimed to be a great doer of things, but I mentioned that In addition to fake public works projects, I also read quite a bit. Additionally, I also find time to play other games (video and board), cook the occasional fancy meal, and write all this. I mentioned that sometimes I work on wood too, but that was mostly to look extra accomplished, I haven’t really worked on any wood projects in a while. Now I’ll be the first to admit, I’m really not that motivated of a guy, I feel like I’m somewhere in the middle/lower middle in terms of overall human levels of get up and go. But the take away from the conversation was that it was astounding, given the number of children in my house, the amount of free time I seem to have to fill with my various hobbies. Do I do more than I realize? Or do I work with people who don’t fill their time with hobbies, but instead with..... something else? I never quite figured out what. Maybe TV, maybe just family affairs.
Ok. Books.

The botany of desire - Michael Pollan

This was an interesting read about the human relationship with four breeds of plants: the tulip, apples, marijuana, and potatoes. These specific plants were selected mostly because of their ability to adapt to human desires, hence the title. Each one of these plants has the ability to change quite easily, or more specifically to be changed by humans quite easily. If you were so inclined, I think it would be easy to assume the author has a poor grasp of evolutionary biology, due to his constant discussion of the plants desires, as if they are willing and knowing participants in their own evolution. I’m confident the author knows what he is talking about, and is using the term in a poetic way, or as a way of summing up the will of not the individual plant, but of the species for overall survival. And even then, I don’t think he uses the term in the same way as a human desire, with it’s sense of purposeful agency, but instead as a force one is incapable of fighting, more of a destiny than a desire. It does seem like an excellent toe hold for someone who wanted to try to pick apart the evolutionary stance this book takes, though maybe I’m giving that camp too much credit here; I don’t think they base much of what they say on evidence and reason.

Each plant that the author chose to focus on has its own way of adapting itself to human beings, and the reason we interact heavily with not just these plants, but most of the plants we grow is specifically because of the ease in which they adapt to our needs. Marijuana plants will grow in almost any condition, and react quite favorably to modification of its genetics and growing conditions.They will grow larger and faster if you give them more light or Carbon Dioxide than they would ever find in nature, with no adverse side effects; it has a nearly inexhaustible appetite for growth. On the other hand, instead of marijuana’s malleability, the apple gives us genetic variety. Each apple contains five seeds, all of them wildly genetically different. This allows us to cull from a seed planted orchard only the trees and fruits that have the traits we want, selecting some for durability, or sweetness, or color. This variety also allows for the apple to adapt to new environments quite easily; being so different makes it more likely that sat least one will thrive in a given area, making it easy to move the apple through different climates and growing regions.

My only complaint was that the author continued to harp on this dichotomy between Dionysus and Apollo, comparing the plants and their various proponents to either a wild Dionysus, or an ordered Apollo. Not that it was a bad comparison, or more specifically, not that it would have been a bad comparison just the once, but it seemed to get brought up in every chapter, sometimes in multiple spots. Some of the comparisons were alright, but after the fourth or fifth time of hearing about the wild Dionysian abandon of this, that or some other thing I wanted to say “OK, mike, I get it. Untamed wilds. Awesome. Lets move it along.” This is a minor quibble though, overall this was a very insightful book regarding the co-evolution of humankind and the plants we are drawn to.

The girl with the dragon tattoo - Steig Larsson

My mother has been advising me to read this for a while, and at first I put it somewhere in my queue past the top three, then continued to shuffle it downward as newer and more pressing books came along, or at the very least, books I happened upon sooner after finishing whatever it was I was on at the time. She has given me good advice before, so it wasn’t a polite sort of, oh yes, that sounds good, I'll be sure to get to that when I have time, but oh... I have so many things to read first - no, no, why don’t you just keep it for now sort of situation. Anyway, I got around to it, and it is quite an enjoyable book. Other people who told me to read it warned me to press through the first 100 or so pages, and that it picked up after that. I liked it right away, though I admit it starts slow - but that is one of the things I like the most about this series: it is willing to take its time, stopping to smell the character development flowers, if you will. Rare is the book willing to have a long span of time be devoted to really kick ass and thorough researching segments. Despite the upcoming (second) film version of this book, I don’t think this is the sort of book that translates well to cinema. There is so much of it that comes from character’s inner thoughts, or from finding a key piece of data in a library, that it will take some serious screenplay modification to keep the pace of the film from being unwatchable. (You know what would translate well to film? The hunger games. I rarely cared about what Katniss was thinking, and would love to be able to focus mostly on the games, and the world, and not give more than one half of one shit about which of her boys she is going to hold hands with, or whatever. No inner thoughts, just a few brief mopey stares at some young beefcake, and then back to more hunger, and more games.) Despite the slow start, and your opinions on that, it turns into a pretty intense page turner at some point. The real draw for me though was that is does this without veering into Dan Brown territory, and forcing you to acknowledge the poor writing whenever you give it any praise, so as to avoid looking like some sort of literary philistine.

With books that have been translated, it is hard to tell what stems from the cultural differences, or the peculiarities of the language, and what instead is just the way that particular author writes. At one point somebody is said to be as daft as a syphilitic pole cat. Is this a common turn of phrase in Sweden? I really hope it is, and that it was just so colorful that it defied anything other than literal translation. This other-ness adds a nice flavor to the experience, though I worry in some cases what I might be missing by not being in on some of the knowledge that might fill in some of the gaps. For example, if you were familiar with the Midwest, and I told you that I was from rural Indiana (I’m not) and that I went to college in Chicago, but then I moved to Madison after school, all those places would color a picture of the person being described. Maybe a bit of a hayseed, who goes to a big city to get away from his country roots, he then decides to get away from the rush of the city but still be somewhere with a lively arts community. If you weren’t familiar with any of those places, then you would have no more information than could be found on a map. Like if I said to you that I grew up in Malmo, and then went to university in Gothenburg, but decided later to move to Trollhattan; not quite the same story is painted, instead it is just reads as a series of facts. This book makes me, at some points, feel like I may be missing out on some of the details between the lines. I still don’t know the cultural standing of the Nykvarn municipality. I don’t really know the difference between the Fiskargatan and Lundagatan Neighborhoods. I’m not really sure if they are even neighborhoods, or if they are regions, or suburbs. To be fair, I don’t know the difference between the upper east side and lower west side of new york city, so this is not a thing unique to books taking place outside of America, but still - sometimes it just feels like reading names off a map with no frame of reference. The author does a good job of giving you some contextual clues, but I’m sure to a Stockholm native the book is a much richer read.

The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho

I’m not sure what I expected given the back of the book blurb on this one (I’m not sure how I know the back of the book blurb, given that the back of the book I read it on is matte black, but I do) which states in various breathless ways what a life-changing read this is, and how it will forever alter your view of the world. I wanted for this to be true, to really have an eye opening experience. I’ve had them before with books, but they all seemed to be either in the impressionable 12-14 stage, or the equally impressionable 20-22 stage. I went back to read Ishmael a while back with the same desire, though that time it was to see if it held up over time. It did not. So I wonder if my feeling towards this would have been different if I had read it at the same time that I read Ishmael.

Regardless of what might have been, this did have the effect on me I would have hoped. Not that it was bad, it just seemed sort of simple. In fact, simple by itself would have been preferable. The story isn’t the problem - a young man goes from Spain to Egypt to see the pyramids and has to suffer through a number of setbacks on the way. The book has a good message: if you work towards following your dreams they will (be much more likely to) come true. The problem is that it makes this so fucking obvious the whole time. Hey, hey hey, did you know your destiny is your own? HEY! LISTEN! DESTINY! LIFE DREAM! I generally don’t like it when “the message” is made a central theme of the book (show, game, so forth). Central theme might not be the right way to describe it; How about instead, I don’t like it when the subtext becomes the text. If it had just been a story about a young man going on an adventure instead of being complacent in his life, I think I would have drawn a message from that. Instead, it makes damn well sure that you know that if you FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS the universe will HELP YOU ACHIEVE YOUR DESTINY. Subtext should always be sub to some degree or it ruins whatever meaning it could have had, like having to explain the punchline to a joke. I usually resent this sort of hand holding, and appreciate being allowed to figure things out on my own; I like the feeling of understanding that comes from having to mull over an idea in my head. I think that in cases like this, the story would be able to stand on its own if it was just written straight. If the message is good enough, it will rise to the top and people will understand it. Well, certain people will, and I think that is the real issue. By lowering the bar, you let a lot more people in on what is really going on. And again, the message (that is loud-speakered at you from almost every page) is not a bad one, maybe a bit new-agey towards the end, but still a good thing to think about. Is it worth it though? Is it better to have a book that reaches more people, but alienates those who like to think for themselves, or have an somewhat obtuse theme that only comes to those willing to dig for it? I guess it depends on which side you are asking. For me, I truck with the latter, and thought this book came off as trite and heavy-handed.

The girl who played with fire - Steig Larsson

***SPOILER WARNING***

The thing that struck me to write about regarding this book contains major spoilers for both this book, and season five of the wire. If you want to read/see either and haven’t, this is the last book for the month, go ahead and stop right here.

***SPOILER WARNING***








It is a shame that the author passed away, as after reading this book I think there is probably more than just one remaining book’s worth of fertile writing ground for these characters and this setting. This book, like its predecessor, starts slow. And again, I liked this part of the book very much. It is rare that a mystery book just lets the characters get fleshed out without getting right to the meat of things. I guess what is rare is that the book has such a laid back pace to start with and it never feels boring. I was interested to know what was going on in the lives of the main characters, and with their jobs, travels, and so forth. It was refreshing. And again, like the first one, at some point it moves slowly and seamlessly into a fast paced story, one that is hard to get too far away from.

My wife and I watch some TV series, not that many, usually ones that are critically well regarded, and for dramas, usually we watch them all in one fell swoop. We watched the entirety of the sopranos, mad men and battlestar galactica in the course of a few weeks each. Right before the birth of our second child, we hunkered down for what is generally regarded as the best television series of its time: the wire. It’s reputation is well deserved, and it was a pleasure to watch. One of the most likable characters in the show is a man named Omar. I was trying to think of what title to put in front of him, like I could have said, a robber named Omar. Or I could have said a noble anti-hero named Omar. But that is the beauty of the show, it doesn’t fit well with easy archetypes. It is the exact opposite of a book like the alchemist. It doesn’t hold your hand at all. In fact, if you reach out to hold its hand, it swats you away with a harsh look on its face. By the time we get to the fifth season, many of the characters slide from the moral gray area they occupy into the moral black area, making clearly bad decisions in order to (poorly) rectify the bad decisions made by others. Omar is left as one of the only remaining people who seem to be following a code. He was one of the very few characters out of many whose actions we felt deserved some sort of positive outcome; he was the last man standing. In the second or third to last episode he is killed in a humiliating and anti-climactic way. He was acting alone, with nobody who would carry on his task. I was crushed. I actually yelled out, and threw something to the floor. It felt so unfair. At the end of the episode I said I wasn’t interested in finishing the show, and part of me really did feel that way. I felt betrayed.

I bring all this up because of the end of girl who played with fire. In the end one of the main characters is finally meeting up with her father, a man who abused her and her mother, a clear cut villain by any definition. She finally tracks him down and in a conflict with him (the sort she has creatively escaped from before), she gets shot. First in the hip, then in the shoulder, then in the head. Her perspective fades to black and the next scene is her father burying her at the spot of the shooting out in the woods. This was only a day or two after the incident with Omar, and I said out loud, albeit very quietly, “are you fucking kidding me?” I was ready to open my window and drop my book onto my back porch. After just shy of two books worth of getting to know and like this girl, now they just shoot her in the head and bury her in an unmarked grave? It was too much to handle. I put the book down for a minute and thought about it, and it seemed out of character for this author. I kept reading, and it turns out that the shot to the head was not fatal, and she ends up clawing her way out of the shallow grave. That fits in much more closely with the tone of these books than if, ha-fucking-ha, one of the two main characters dies shamefully and short of their goal two books in.

These two incidents made me think about the death of characters, especially in light of the fact that I specifically praised it when in regards to game of thrones. I still feel about deaths the way I said I did for that series, but I can’t quite put my finger on what makes it different. In the girl who played with fire the character was too central to the story line for it to sit well, But in the wire, the comparison was more direct to game of thrones - an ensemble drama where very few characters, if any, are without faults. Why was the death of one character so much more unpleasant in Baltimore, than in Westeros? There are definitely parallels between the two, and specifically between the characters who die, but there is some difference between the two that I can’t reason out. I remember being astonished at some of the deaths in game of thrones, but instead of leaving a bad taste in my mouth and making me lose interest in the story, after I resumed reading it made me want to read more. I wish I had a pithy ending for this, but I don’t. It is just a question at the end with no good answer. Sometimes the death of main characters draws me in and sometimes it pushes me away.