Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thanksgiving

As per tradition, the annual Thanksgiving rereading of Sarah Vowell's The Wordy Shipmates has been completed.

It struck me this time around about how... well, of the Bush-era it was.  Vowell spends a lot of time comparing and contrasting the Puritans and their influence with Abu Ghraib and 9/11, with how America thinks of itself ("city on a hill," spreading freedom and democracy) with how it often acts/is seen (drone strikes, hypocritical bully), and about the Iraq invasion and the European invasion of Native America.  In this now second Obama term, with the Iraq War over, it feels... not irrelevant, because despite many of the good things he's done, civil liberties and anti-terrorism policy are not, depending on one's point of view, Obama's most inspiring areas, but of a different era?  Not that four years is such a long time, but her concerns seem very different than today's, when  the economy and social issues like women's rights and gay marriage seem, and maybe this is just to me, to loom larger on the public consciousness. The tone of those parts of the book simply no longer seem "in-sync" with the times. 

In my previous rereads, I recognized the anxiety and bookishness of the Puritans as things I can identify with, but this year I somehow for the first time actually thought about what it would have been like being a Puritan.  Would I have been like the woman Winthrop references who threw her own child down a well in order to confirm to herself her damnation rather than live with the anxiety of not knowing if she was saved or not?  Or would I be a stern and uncompromising patriarch, convinced of my own righteousness? What psychic and spiritual torture would I endure about my sexuality?  None of those options are particularly appealing.

Quite honestly, I just don't think I'd have been tough enough to be a New England Puritan.  I would probably have stroked myself into an early grave under the weight of anxiety and self-hatred.  And even their purely physical lives were hard.  They were tough people, carving out, literally, lives on the edge of their world.  The cold, the hunger, the Indian attacks, and the quotidian difficulty of pre-Industrial Revolution life would not have suited me.  I'm very much not a frontiersperson.  I'd have hung back in England with its comfy pubs (and filth and Civil War and meddling bishops). 

So with that revelation, I bid adieu to John Winthrop, Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and all the gang for another year!  Happy Thanksgiving, all!  ! 

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Friday, November 16, 2012

Sexism and Post-Empowerment in the Geek Community

There's been a little controversy the past few days about "Fake Geek Girls."  I haven't been following it very closely, because, well, it's the kind of argument that tests my faith in humanity, and my nerdy compatriots specifically, and I'm trying to be positive lately.  But just read Alyssa Rosenberg's response, and you'll basically get my viewpoint. 

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Sunday, November 04, 2012

Skimpy Sunday






 And after the jump, a more NSFW than usual...


Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Rodent

Of course this doesn't compare to the other deaths, damage, and despair left in the wake of Sandy, but I am a little sad for the poor little mice, and all the researchers whose life's work, in some cases, has washed away.  And, yeah, subway rats are gross, but the little baby rats drowning in their burrows is some sad shit.  I'm such a damn softie. 

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

That's No Mouse!

All I can say to this news is wow.  Like, WOW!  I'm astounded, amazed, and nervous.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Bourgeois Book Club

I'm so very, very behind, and very, very remiss in my Book Club duties.  This has been sitting in Draft for months waiting for me to give it the attention it deserves.  I've been reading a lot, and a lot of good stuff, but just haven't felt motivated to write about them.  But the time has come; I can no longer tolerate my own dereliction.

As you'll notice, I've been on a bit of a science fiction bender.  I've just read nothing noteworthy in fantasy or mystery.  Maybe late Fall will change that, but this edition of Bourgeois Book Club all about the sci-fi (and a little philosophical investigation).  

Why Does The World Exist? by Jim Holt

"Why is there something rather than nothing?" is either the most important question ever formulated, the fundamental question, or an absurd bit of metaphysical fiddlefaddle.  Either way, it is a powerful question, one that has confounded even the greatest minds.  To attempt to answer it is an audacious undertaking.  Some might even say a task verging on hubris.  But it is the question Holt adroitly and skillfully ponders in Why Does The World Exist?

If one is unafraid of the accusation of narcissism, the highest compliment that can be paid to a book is that it is the book one would have written.  Though I fancy myself to be a non-narcissist, I can't help but say that Holt has written the book I would like to have written.  I am glad that he was the one who wrote it, though, because he did a much better job of it than I ever could have.  Contemplation of Nothing and the problem of existence has occupied my mind many a night. 

The subtitle of the book is an "Existential Detective Story," and what detective worth his or her salt doesn't interview the suspects?  Holt crisscrosses the world interviewing theologians, philosophers, and scientists to survey a wide variety of viewpoints on the question.  They provide a broad survey of possible answers to the question, though I must purse my lips in disapproval that all of Holt's interviewees and historical characters are white men, most of them of an eminent age as well.  (This lack of diversity is perhaps my only real disappointment in the book.)

Of course, Holt doesn't actually answer the question.  No one can.  But he does at least consider the possibilities.  And the personal reflections provide an emotional perspective that grounds a book about often extremely abstract, even abstruse, concepts. It is appropriate, too, because why is the question of why the world exists so compelling?  It is because it is emotional.  Just think of the great nonexistence: death.  We worry about Nothing because we fear that it is just another name for Death.  I recently lost my father in a way fairly similar to the loss of his mother as described in the penultimate chapter of the book.  It is the sort of time where these questions come up, when existence seems most fragile and inexplicable.  To face it head-on, intellectually, unreservedly, exuberantly, can be a great comfort.

I really can't recommend Why Does The World Exist? enough.  Even if you're not much one for philosophy or physics, it's still a worthwhile and engaging read.  It is also surprisingly accessible; though many of the ideas are hard, the prose never is, written with clarity and a great deal of (often nerdy) humor.  It's what a book about Ideas should always strive to be. 

Champion of Mars by Guy Haley

Set in the same universe as his Richards and Klein books, this is the "future" "history" of Mars through the eyes of its champions and guardians as they battle first to tame and shape the world and then defend it from mind-bending horrors.  Excellent, Burroughsian (quite intentionally, I presume) adventure, though with that Burroughsian-ness comes a slightly... retro role for the women, I thought, which was disappointing.  Still, great read.

Existence by David Brin

A clever and intriguing look at alien contact and its effects on humanity.  Its effect is diminished somewhat by what, in my opinion, was an abrupt and unsatisfying jump in the final third of the book farther down the timeline, leaving a lot of the characters we grew to care about basically dangling.  But regardless, a very thought-provoking and interestingly speculative read.

2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson

An interesting blend of what I guess you would call "environmental science fiction" and mystery set in a future where humanity has spread throughout the solar system. It is marred a bit by the underwhelming resolution of the mystery, but an interesting read nonetheless.  I oddly appreciated that the main character is actually not always terribly sympathetic.  At times, she's downright unbearable, but in a believable way.  She's human.

The Fractal Prince by Hannu Rajaniemi

The sequel to last year's The Quantum Thief, it continues the story of a thief navigating the far-future politics of a Solar System divided between literally god-like entities.  Instead of the Mars of The Quantum Thief, this time we travel to a post-Apocolyptic Earth, where wild nanites and code made anything outside of the Arabian Nights-esque (complete with "jinn") city of Sirr dangerous, and the intrigues of the other Solar System powers threaten everyone, including the prostitute/storyteller daughter of the city's greatest family.  

Tales within tales, storytelling as literally a matter of life and death, and "magic" all makes this a tale worthy of Scheherazade, if Scheherazade was a quantum physicist.  As with The Quantum Thief, I think it would take more than one read to understand a lot of it (in fact, some things in The Quantum Thief are spelled out in The Fractal Prince that caused me to pause with a "Wait, what?!" because I didn't pick up on them there), but it doesn't matter, because it's still a damn good adventure, laced with tragic love, futurist speculation, and heroism. 

The Hydrogen Sonata by Iain M. Banks

The latest Culture novel from Iain M. Banks explores the last days of a civilization on the brink of, for all intents and purposes, apotheosis.  But secrets from the past, and the ambitions of younger races, threaten what is supposed to be a peaceful and joyous transition, and the super Minds of the Culture and a four-armed musician race to uncover the past.

Yet another ambitious and absorbing adventure from Banks.  It is not my favorite of the Culture novels, but it is still in the top tier (which is really anything other than Matter, honestly).  I particularly liked how Cassont, the aforementioned four-armed musician, is really not a terribly extraordinary person (at least when compared to the androids, super-AIs, and ten-thousand-year-old hermits that surround her), but just a fairly average, quite pleasant person thrust into extraordinary circumstances through a mere chance acquaintanceship from her youth.  And she doesn't become a superhero or anything by the end, either, just someone coping with an unlooked-for adventure, and finding hidden reserves of character along the way.  I just found that part relateable. 

As ever with Banks, there are other, more weighty things lurking, about what the consequences of immortality are, the choices societies make, how far one will go to gain the truth or cover up a lie and what to do with that information once you get it, and the fragility of history and the profound effects it has.  But these weighty topics serve to enhance, rather than detract from, the story, which keeps up its pace and its twistiness throughout.

Also as always with the Culture novels, one need not have ever read one to pick up, enjoy, and understand this one.  While I urge you to read them all, and the pleasure of the books is enhanced by knowledge of the others, it is more a universe that Banks plays in than a serial narrative that must be approached chronologically.  So dive in and enjoy the ride!

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Friday, September 21, 2012

White Turtles

My fascination with rare pigmentations in animals continues with white (leucistic) turtles! 

Friday, September 14, 2012

Teehee, Boobies and Weenies

"[A]gglutinated oil secretions" is either the most disgusting phrase ever, or the name of my new band.  (You really need to say the word "agglutinized" for the full effect, BTW.  It's just so Teutonic, despite being Latinate in origin.)

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Golden Gals

As a gay man whose fondest childhood memories include watching The Golden Girls (and Murder, She Wrote) with his grandmother, this article is relevant to my interests. 

Sunday, September 09, 2012

Sunday, September 02, 2012

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Friday, August 17, 2012

Sapphic Squamates

These lizards don't need any stupid male to reproduce!  Sisters are doing it for themselves!

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Poor Polar Bears

Man, the polar bears can't catch a break!  Not only is their natural habitat melting out from underneath their paws, but the zoos are out to get them, too!  T

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Bourgeois Art Gallery

And we come to the end of Bourgeois Art Gallery for the time being.  Thank you for visiting, and please feel free to explore the museums at your leisure now that the tour is over.

Rolling Pin

It's too pretty to roll dough or hit someone!

Shawabti of the Lady of the House Sati

Just beautifully colored figure.

Giraffe Head

Giraffe!

King Before an Ichneumon

"Why is that Egyptian guy standing in front of a giant, fat beaver?"  That's what I thought on first sight, anyway.  But, no, it's not a beaver (which are native to North America anyway), it's a mongoose.  Apparently, it's a form of the sun god that battles with the serpent of evil.

Mariners Bowl

Fantastic glass cutting. 

Hedgehog

Hedgehog!

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

Bourgeois Art Gallery

Daedalus and Icarus

Icarus is giving us Tilda Swinton realness here, and I love it!

Portrait of the Malla King Bhupatindra and Malla Queen

It's the queen that I really like here, with the serenely good-humored face and the slightly cocked head, along with the great hairdo.  The king just looks boring next to her.

Seated Buddha

Not a terribly remarkable Buddha figure.  There are millions, probably, roughly similar.  But the way the gilding has rubbed off makes for an interesting look.

Barry Humphries in the Character of Mrs. Everage

Dame Edna!

Narodakini

This piece is probably astounding in person.  Even in pictures it's arresting.  Just the use of gilding as highlight against that dark bronze (with a great patina, BTW).  This was made by a true master.

The Three Sisters of Phaeton

I love sunsets, and this picture and the light it portrays is precisely why.

Centaur Mosaic

Mosaic is an artform that absolutely astounds me.  High-quality mosaic, like this piece, makes me gasp in wonder.  All those little pieces of glass or marble or whatever that the artist somehow makes a picture out of. 

The Isle of the Dead

This is a rather famous image, which you may have noticed I've avoided in this series, but I just really like it.  It's moody and mysterious.

The Interior of the Palm House

I'd love a house with this as a room. 

Reclining Dog

This poor dog doesn't look terribly happy to be sketched.  The artist probably woke him from a nice nap to get the right angles or something.

View from the Artist's Studio

There is, at least to my eyes, a meta character to this picture.  It's a painting of paintings: the one on the wall on the right, the one we can't see on the canvas in the foreground, and the "painting" of the view "framed" by the window.

Monkey

Monkey!

Dogs from Europe

Doggies!   

Cat and Plum Blossoms

Kitteh!

Guilin

Sublimity in painting.