Recently Read

A twofer for one of my favorite authors!

Once Upon a Time in the North
by Philip Pullman

It's been such a long time since I've had the chance to dig into anything by Philip Pullman. Part of the blame falls with me, as I've been wandering further afield, and part must fall on Pullman, who has been lax lately when it comes to producing works that just scream "Read me!" (More on this matter below.)

Once Upon A Time In The North
by Phillip Pullman

Here's a case in point: the novella Once Upon a Time in the North, the second short story entry into the His Dark Materials canon (the first being Lyra's Oxford). Since the HDM books were the magnet that drew me to Pullman in the first place, and still retain their place in my pantheon of favorite books, I felt true delight when I discovered (thanks to a library catalog search) that there was another addition to the series. Add in the fact that it's a story focused on the early career of Lee Scoresby and his soul-mate hare Hester--two of the best characters in the original trilogy--and I was ticked a ruddy shade of pink.

And Once Upon a Time in the North delivers the goods: the witty Texan Scoresby and his snap-tounged Hester are in fine form this quick moving adventure tale of a couple of hairy (harey?) days in an Arctic town. It is a delight to spend a few more minutes with Lee and Hester, who are characters a reader wants to follow anywhere: brave, smart, able, and only lightly touched by a non-incapacitating cynicism.

Unfortunately, minutes are all we get here. While brevity may be the soul of wit, and 96 small pages do serve to tell the story of the pair's involvement in a bit of local politics--with a touch of mayhem and potential murder thrown in to keep things exciting--the ultimate outcome is to leave the reader wanting so much more. It seems unlikely that we're going to get more; Pullman produced Once Upon a Time... back in 2008, and the HDM trail seems, in the intervening years, to have grown colder than Iorek Byrnison's Arctic homeland. The failure of the film version of The Golden Compass may have made that inevitable; perhaps Pullman has pulled up creative stakes and headed for greener literary pastures.

Still, Once Upon a Time... demonstrates how robust and rich a source the HDM world could still be, if the author is so inclined. Other characters from the original work could have their own past/origin stories brought to fruition and presented to an eager reading public. And for those who are not already fans, Once Upon a Time...  (or similar series-based novellas) could serve as a terrific intro to the wider works: a brief, excellent, entertaining entryway for those not already familiar with just how good Pullman and his work can be.

At the very least, I am grateful I had the chance to get a little more joy from one of my most loved literary adventures. And I'll welcome any more chances to reenter that world, should they come down the line.

---

The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ
by Philip Pullman

News flash: Philip Pullman is not a fan of Christianity, or organized religion, or "the Church," however you want to put it.

So why, then, did he decide to write a Gospel?

Whatever the motivation, Pullman's impulse led to the publication of The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, the author's attempt to reconcile what he perceives to be the admirable qualities of Jesus's message with his personal world view--and the anathema status that the Church has within that world view.

The Good Man Jesus
and the Scoundrel Christ
by Philip Pullman

Pullman tries to pull this split personality trick by cleaving the Savior himself into two separate characters: Jesus, who is more or less the traditional prophet most of us have come to know, and Christ, the other's younger, sicklier, shrewder, and somewhat more contemptible twin brother. Throughout the narrative, Jesus goes about living his life as described in the canonical Gospels, while the brother Christ shifts about on the periphery of the "greatest story," serving as both scribe and secret mover of the action, both by his own volition and through collaboration with "the Stranger"--a mysterious character who may or may not ultimately turn out to be the Apostle Paul. (Pullman hints, but never comes right out and identifies who the Stranger actually is supposed to be.)

Naturally, this manipulation of the story causes problems for the reader, especially those who are familiar with the standard story (which is to say, virtually everyone in two thirds of the world, at least). Jesus, in most respects, comes across as a character worth rooting for; but Christ is presented much more ambiguously. The character never seems like an organic creation; from the start we are highly conscious that we are reading the tale of a literary device. Despite his titular appellation, and a story thread that obviously implies plenty of envy, Christ has admirable qualities, too. Too bad, then, that the character ultimately comes across as a stooge who serves the narrative role of the slightly reluctant tool by whose deeds the Christian Church is to be founded.

It is for that sin--being the necessary component in the Stranger's machinations to found an organized religion--that Pullman ultimately damns his own creation. Conversations between Christ and the Stranger, concerning the philosophical underpinnings of the Church, and why it must be founded upon lies, read like wiretap transcripts of racketeers caught in the midst of their conspiracies. When at last Christ, long after the unfortunate events, voices his pain and regret, the reader has little clue about how he should feel for this made up man.

Not only does the plotting suffer at the hands of Pullman's ulterior cause, but the author's own writing comes across as damaged by his agenda. Some passages retain their power, despite Pullman's tinkering with story, character and meaning. The Sermon on the Mount can still inspire and move the reader, even when presented in the author's purposefully banal language. (Much of this work comes across as a new, revised version of The Book, that laughably lowbrow version of the Bible that came out back in the 1980s.) In a few places, the author's talent still shines through, as with the very subtle manipulations that cast more than a little doubt upon Mary's pre-motherhood purity. At other times, however, Pullman's text degenerates into little more than philosophical screed. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus has a one way conversation with God that neatly refutes every word of Christ's and the Stranger's conceptual architecture for building a Church. The reader knows with absolute certainty that these words are Pullman's, with no attempt made to portray them as anything that might have sprung from Jesus's own philosophy. If you were at a pub talking religion, or lack thereof, with the author over a pint, such direct personal opinion might be accepted and welcome. But when the author is trying to make his own ideas into those of a character many consider to be the Son of God, it's fair for the reader to accuse him of being a little full of himself--especially when the presentation of those ideas makes for less than riveting reading.

I am a fully confessed Pullman fan. I have delighted in any number of his works. So I expected to come to The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ and find an admirable work. Even as I read the book, I figured that the work would merit a "so-so" (~) review once I got around to posting it on this site. But in retrospect, I can not view this book as anything but a failure; perhaps a noble failure, but even that is questionable. And considering the successes that have come before this work, it would be the worst kind of "grade inflation" to give Pullman a pass for this effort. If you too are a Pullman fan, one with a completist bent, or someone whose interest in interpretations of the Christian story is limitless, then I suppose you will want to read The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ. Otherwise, the not so good news is, you can skip it.

Reel Reviews -- Y

Yojimbo (+) -- A wonderful movie, more than worthy of being the inspiration for one of the classic westerns, A Fistful Of Dollars. The best part has to be Toshiro Mifune's towering performance as the out of work samurai--the original man with no name--who plays the rival factions like a concert violin. Certainly a classic, probably would be a Best Of All inductee, were I truly equipped to judge the nuances of Japanese movie culture. Don't miss it. Posted 9/7/04.

You Can Count On Me (~) -- It has its moments, but most of it is fairly obvious. Laura Linney (Oscar-nominated) is good, but Mark Ruffalo is better. A "not quite" movie. Posted 10/1/02.

Young Adult (+) -- I enjoyed watching Patton Oswalt play reluctant Sancho Panza to Charlize Theron's demented Don Quixote. And, with the exception of one major misstep towards the end, the movie remains refreshingly, brutally honest throughout. It certainly provides a fine meditation on who lives 'those lives,' if you know what I mean, so if you're prone to that sort of thinking anyway, check this one out. Posted 3/1/13.

You've Got Mail (+) -- I'm tempted to write this thing off for being a blatant and obvious advertisment for the shitheads at AOL, but the combination of Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks and director Nora Ephron works well enough for forgiveness. Funny and charming, though ultimately a bit depressing in its "there's no room for the little guy" philosophy.

Recently Read

Summer of '68
by Tim Wendel

It happens every year. The winter months come, the last baseball season is left far behind, and I get the itch for the game to come back. So I usually try to jump that gun and bring baseball back, a little earlier than scheduled, by picking up one of the many works of literature devoted to the game. It's not exactly a day at the ballpark, but reading a good book about baseball will do in a pinch.

Summer of '68 by Tim Wendel

So it came to pass that, on a recent trip to the local library, I picked up Summer of '68, an account of the legendary "Year of the Pitcher" by longtime sportswriter Tim Wendel.

Just based on the title alone, this book held enormous promise. It is an account of 1968, that most famous year both in baseball (the last year before division play, the year when true giants stood atop the mound, the year before everything changed) and beyond (a year of unprecedented upheaval, with assassinations, demonstrations, riots, Olympics, and elections...not to mention my own birth, during game 6 of that year's World Series). As with other such baseball books--accounts of one particular, stand-out year in the game's history (Halberstam's October 1964 and Summer of '49 immediately spring to mind)--Summer of '68 comes with the built in advantage of a narrative already created and neatly packed; all the author needs to do is dig into the details and tease out the hidden side of the already well-known story to bring the reader a fascinating and refreshing experience of days--and the game--gone by. Given that standard, Summer of '68 is a win--but it's not a blowout win by any means.

After all, it's hard to go wrong when your chief subjects are the 1968 St. Louis Cardinals and Detroit Tigers: two teams full of larger than life characters who matched up against each other in that year's World Series. The tale of Bob Gibson's dominance on the mound, fueled in part by his reaction to the King and Kennedy assassinations, makes for deeply interesting reading. So too with the carnival show that was Denny McLain, winning 31 games at the height of his career; Mickey Lolich, overcoming adversity, doubt, and envy to stand in the end as the Series hero; Curt Flood, the game's best centerfielder who still had his greatest challenges ahead of him; Tigers legend Al Kaline, capping a Hall of Fame career with an exhibition of true greatness on the game's biggest stage; and...well, the list goes on and on. Great stories abounded on those two teams, not to mention the fascinating tales that peppered the major leagues outside of those two cities (Don Drysdale, Catfish Hunter, Frank Howard, Milt Pappas, Luis Tiant, and more). Almost any writer could produce an interesting book with such characters and their deeds as his subject.

And yet, Summer of '68 never quite caught fire for me, despite its glorious subject matter. The blame for that lack of intensity must lay in author Wendel's shortcomings as a writer. Perhaps it is telling that Wendel, according to his bio, was a founding editor of USA Today; Wendel's writing in Summer of '68 mirrors the blandness of that 'least common denominator' publication. The author is just not much of a stylist; his prose is flat and uninspiring, and that deficiency bleeds some of the drama out of otherwise fascinating characters and scenes. Much of the narrative is choppy, and comes across as less a flowing, unified work and more a quilt of disparate texts cobbled together from unrelated articles. (The reader gets the impression that large parts of Summer of '68 were pieced together from previously published works, though there are no 'previously published' credits anywhere in the book's cataloging info.) The writing also contains many stylistic faults, such as needless identifications and explanations of things already identified and explained--small flubs that are individually forgivable, but pervasive enough to be distracting. All in all, Summer of '68 suffers greatly from burdens that are almost more than its grand subject matter can overcome.

That the book does overcome those burdens, just enough to make the reader want to keep going forward, is a testament to the work's core story. What the Tigers and Cardinals accomplished in 1968, and the maelstrom in which they achieved their greatness, makes for a story too intriguing to be sidetracked by the presentation's failings. In a perfect world, this story would have gotten a better treatment by a truly gifted writer; as it stands, baseball fans can make do with Summer of '68 and honor the memory of what were truly legendary days.

Reel Reviews -- X

The X-Files: Fight The Future (+) -- Definitely worth it if you're a fan of the show; otherwise, it's tough to say. I'm a fan, so I say "see it." It feels a lot like just a big episode of the show, but again, if you like the show...

X-Men (+) -- Well-done comic book adaptation. Some of the mutant powers are a bit on the outlandish side, but hey, you're not supposed to believe in this shit. Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan provide just the right touch of gravitas to an otherwise popcorn-light movie.

X-Men: First Class (+) -- Lots of fun. True, lots of silly, profoundly implausible fun, but for what it is--a backdrop that plays while you munch away at your grain-silo-sized tub of popcorn--the movie performs its task admirably. There's plenty of easy on the eyes--certainly for the male viewer; probably for the female viewer, too, though I'm not one to judge that--and a good dose of cool visuals (nice but not overbearing special effects included), and an easy, comfortable attitude about the materials that more than makes up for the profound absurdity of the base premise. And, of course, Nazis with submarines; you never go wrong with Nazis with submarines. Wrap it all up and it's worth a couple of your hours. Posted 1/21/13.

X2: X-Men United (+) -- Ah, I'm such a sucker for anything that reeks of "cool." Throw some special effects in front of me and I'm happy. I have a feeling I should have liked this movie less than I did, but I certainly don't think there was anything egregiously wrong with it. There's a subplot about a particularly religious mutant that opens the doors to a lot of speculation, but they left it thoroughly undeveloped. Too bad. You have to settle for fairly run of the mill sci-fi superhero stuff. Still, that's usually entertaining--and so it is here. Posted 2/12/05.

Right About The Big Things

I like to say that I'm always right. No one ever believes me, but I'm always right. Of course, I'm not right about every detail of what passes in this world, but I get the big picture right a lot of the time.

Witness this post, from almost two years ago. I was spot on when I called the selection of Colin Kaepernick the turning point for the 49ers' future. As it turns out, it wasn't quite a direct line from that day to the Super Bowl, but the team did eventually get there. For the record, despite that post, I was not an advocate for replacing Alex Smith with the kid halfway through this season; I figured it was better to stick with Smith for the present, then hand the keys over to Kaepernick for next season. But I was wrong about that; Harbaugh made the right call.

And, as it turned out, I was right about the heart of the matter: the 49ers have returned to glory, as they say, and Kaepernick is a huge part of that. So please, listen to me once in a while when I tell you something.

Taylor's Laws

Note: Taylor's Laws--or variously, Rules, Principles, Axioms, Whatevers--are a series of Laws of Nature and Life as promulgated by yours truly (a la Stephen's Dictionary for words and phrases). I hope to make this a semi-regular feature of Malchats Matters, and possibly to produce a compendium when I have enough Laws formulated.

Taylor's Principle of Pizza Purchasing

Always buy as much pizza as your available funds will allow.

Explication: You always want to maximize the value of your money. Buying as much pizza as your available funds allows will accomplish this. Pizza, in any amount, will always get eaten. Cold pizza is almost as good as fresh out of the oven pizza, so leftovers are always welcome. It will not go bad, even if left sitting in its box for a couple of days (it will rarely achieve that long a shelf life). Thus, every dollar you spend on pizza goes to making a meal--usually a couple of meals. Whatever is the best 'buy in bulk' price that your local pizza joint offers, go for it.

Recently Read

Into the American Woods
by James H. Merrell

Into the American Woods:
Negotiators on the Pennsylvania Frontier

by James H. Merrell

I was completely deceived by this book's title. I put it on my reading list under the belief that this was a work of natural history about the great forests that covered the American continent back in the day. It would have helped if I had kept reading until I came to the subtitle...

But this turned out not to be a problem. What I accidentally discovered was a book on colonial history that I would not have otherwise selected, and that happy accident led to an enjoyable reading experience I would not otherwise have had.

Author James H. Merrell tells the intriguing story of the "negotiators on the Pennsylvania frontier"--those souls who, for one reason or another, straddled the worlds of the native Indians of mid-Atlantic river valleys and the early British colonists who were the first founders of "Penn's Woods." As the author tells it, trying to bridge the gap between those peoples was an enormous undertaking, one so fraught with difficulty that even those involved in the task were often in the thick of it against their will. That motley mixture--of half-breeds, inter-marriers, and hustlers on the make for trade and land speculation--proved to be invaluable for the peoples in the Delaware and Susquehanna valleys in the years from (roughly) 1680 to 1760; it was only through the shrewdness and diplomatic skill of the go-betweens that William Penn's original vision of a "peaceable kingdom" of mutual brotherhood between the natives and the colonists ever came close to being realized.

Except, of course, it never really was realized. By the end of that eighty year span, despite the best efforts of the negotiators, the fits and starts of peace and aggression between the two parties had degenerated into brutal frontier war. That conflict, played out as one theater of the wider Seven Years/French and Indian War, helped set the archetypal course of American history--Indians fighting for their lives and land before ultimate dispossession by the ever-growing hordes of European immigrants.

Merrell's history provides an interesting perspective on all elements of this archetypal story. The characters on display run the full gamut, from noble stalwarts to foolish clowns and everyone in between. Occasionally, the story moves towards high comedy, as vignettes about some drunken Indian leader or peevish colonial official bring moments of true mirth. More often than not, though, this is a sad tale, one that tugs at the soul of the reader, who is confronted by tragedy again and again in the slaughter of families, the sacking of homes and fields, the dispossession (often by fraud) of the natives of their longtime birthrights, and the slow erosion of peoples and their way of life. Reading Into the American Woods can be an especially sobering experience for someone, like myself, who is a native of Penn's Woods (though the Philadelphia where I was born bore hardly any resemblance to the place known as Shackamaxon, where Penn held his famous council with the local Delawares back in the day). Again and again, while reading this book, I felt a longing to live up to Penn's dream and do something to bring that dreamed of harmony closer to reality. But whatever actions I or anyone else may take now, the sorrows of the past cannot be undone.

It is, then, the least we can do, to remember what was and move forward with that knowledge. Merrell's work helps move us towards that goal, and thus should be read and appreciated. Certainly, readers with a hunger for historical knowledge should pick up Into the American Woods. And though it is a scholarly work, and perhaps not everyone's cup of tea, it wouldn't hurt even the casual reader to give these pages a look as well. If nothing else, reading this book might drive home a point that has widespread application in all places and times: it is communication, or the breakdown thereof, that can decide the fate of peoples, nations--almost everything. If we all learn that lesson, maybe the "peaceable kingdom" will finally come to pass.

No Contest: The Real World Wins Hands Down

Lately, I've been on a run selling my old CDs--not because I've grown tired of my music, but because I no longer have the space to accommodate 100+ discs and their containers. At first I went the online route, selling my discs via sites like "selldvdsonline.com" and "mx123.com." (I'll name them, but I won't provide links, for reasons that will become obvious below.) I thought using the online sites would be an advantage to me: you enter the disc's bar code for pricing, so you know right away whether a disc will sell or not--no lugging any duds to the store; the online vendors pay for shipping, so it's just a case of packaging the order up and getting to the post office; and (important for people-shy types like myself) you don't have to deal with any of the music store weirdos face to face. Seemed like a good way to go.

The mad monk is your friend

Alas, not so much. While it is true that I was ultimately able to make approximately $37 selling old, unwanted CDs online, the process was a pain in the ass.

Many CDs were rejected out of hand, because the bar code did not show up in the vendor's database.

Packaging the orders meant finding a suitable box, packing the discs properly, and securely sealing the box--and then I still had to get the thing to the post office. Not horrendous, but still a pain.

But those issues paled in comparison to the actual process of completing the sale. The worst indignities came after the vendor received the order. Of four separate orders sent by me, three of them had "problems" according to the vendors.

In two cases out of three orders sent to selldvdsonline.com, the vendor informed me that a disc was "missing" from my order. This despite the fact that, by their own assessment, the package seemed undamaged, and I certainly had no spare discs lying around at home. I was particularly assiduous about double-checking the order after the first "missing" disc issue. The fact is, I KNOW that each order included all of the intended discs. But who's going to haggle--long distance--over 25¢? In both cases, the payment I received was marked down by the value of the "missing" discs.

Worst of all was my experience with the execrable mx123.com. It took almost 10 days for them to acknowledge receipt of my order. After several days with no payment, I had to nudge them via email. This led to a response telling me that my order had "quality" problems, that several of the prices for my discs would be marked down because the discs or packaging did not meet their standards. (Funny, the other place never had a problem with the quality of my discs.) Again, I was told I would be paid "within 3 business days." It was only after the fourth business day, when I was ready to send another, considerably angrier email, that I received my payment. And finally, to add insult upon insult, my payment was reduced by 57¢ for PayPal's transaction fee. (None of the other payments from the other site--or indeed, any other payment I've ever received via PayPal--had a fee deducted from them.) I feel lucky to have gotten away with any money at all from those turds.

Contrast those experiences with what I got when I took two grocery bags full of CDs to my nearest Rasputin outlet. I had some trepidation about taking a big chunk of my music collection into the store at once, but two paper grocery bags full of discs (had to be about 70-80 CDs all told) was no problem for them. I had to wait while the (very friendly) clerk went through my discs one by one to assess prices, but the experience wasn't at all uncomfortable. Ultimately, I was offered $55 cash for my discs--without any of them rejected for "quality" reasons. (They offered $63 store credit, but I didn't take that, since I had other things to buy.) The entire process, including the drive to the store, probably took no more than 45 minutes, I got rid of my CDs, and I walked out of the store with $55 cash.

It was no contest: the real life, bricks and mortar, actual building on the street Rasputin store won hands down over the online outlets. I only wish I'd gone there sooner. If you find yourself in the same situation, got some music or movies or such that you'd like to sell, give your local store a shot. You'll be glad you did.

For The Record, Scale Check

284.0 pounds

This shot actually dates to last month, September 13 to be exact. I've been lazy about posting it, though I intended to upload it as soon as I took the shot. I'm posting this to create a date/time stamped record of my weight, and will do so periodically in the future to keep track of my downward progress. (I'm not going to bother posting weight gains; the point of this is milestones on the downward march.)

Check back again later for further milestones as they are achieved.

Recently Read

Fat Land
by Greg Critser

We're in deep trouble. But we can still do something about it. Maybe. That seems to be the takeaway from Greg Critser's book Fat Land.

Critser explores all aspects of America's growing obesity problem, in mostly chronological order: from the 1970s and former Nixon and Ford Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz's pet projects for lowering the price of food--mostly through opening up markets to the cheap and then-new ingredients high fructose corn syrup and palm oil--to the degradation of physical fitness standards via defunded schools and hypersensitive parents, to the muddled confusion produced by nutrition science and dietary standards, and finally all the way up to the socioeconomic forces that have made fat--as I have said myself, here on this very site--into a class issue in modern America.

Fat Land
by Greg Critser

As a survey of all things obesity related, Fat Land is well-thought out, comprehensive in scope, informative, and sympathetic to plight faced by those of us who are carrying more than our share of pounds. Critser does lay blame where it belongs--including all of us in this population who have allowed our attitudes towards diet and exercise to degenerate in such an unhealthy fashion--but he also spells out the case that many obesity sufferers are indeed victims of societal circumstances. In today's U.S.A., it has become almost impossible NOT to be overweight if you have any genetic inclination towards holding onto the pounds.

In the book's final chapter, Critser presents ideas for actions that we, as a society, can take to ameliorate, if not reverse entirely, the obesity epidemic. For example, the suggestion that young college graduates could be recruited through Americorps to attack the problem in the schools, amongst the youngest victims of the crisis--in the same way such graduates have been sent out to alleviate kids' problems learning math--is intriguing, and should get serious consideration. But, given all that has gone in the preceding pages, the reader is left to wonder how effective such steps can be. After all, Fat Land was published nine years ago; not much has happened in the ensuing years to make the overweight problem any better. Suggestions for improvements have been falling on deaf ears, or upon ears that are blocked or covered up by the moneyed interests (think McDonald's, Burger King, soda companies, et al.) who have been the chief beneficiaries of the obesity explosion. We, as a society, are in thrall to the very forces that have been expanding our waistlines; Critser quite effectively makes that case, and thus it is no surprise that remedial efforts have been largely useless.

Still, we all do have at least the personal, individual solution to weight problems available to us: stop eating poorly, and exercise a lot more. Fat Land may not spell out the regimen that will get the best results for you, but it presents a clear argument that, for each of us--and especially those with a high BMI--the effort is undoubtedly worth it.

Recently Read

Unusually Stupid Americans
by Kathryn Petras and Ross Petras

I'm on a losing streak--there's no denying that.

What else to make of Unusually Stupid Americans, the second entry in my quest for some lighthearted Summer reading? As with my first choice, the lamentable tome The Areas of My Expertise by John Hodgman--a book so dull and disappointing I actually forgot to post my written review of it--my second grab for a literary breeze proved to be a dud.

Unusually Stupid Americans features "a compendium of all-American stupidity"; that is, it's a collection of infotainment items gathered together under several vague topic headings (government, business, food, etc.) and presented for the reader's amusement, in bite-sized morsels. It's a well-worn concept, seen repeatedly in many published works of humor, one which promises lots of laughs without much effort on either side of the equation (reader or author).

On the plus side, the book is not hard to read; no slogging through difficult passages required here. And at least some of the items presented here are silly enough to draw out a guffaw or two.

But not nearly enough of those items are that funny. Worse still, the text is presented with a heaping helping of snark; authors Kathryn and Ross Petras (they're siblings) lay on thick their contempt for their subjects. That would be all well and good if their own contributions amounted to the height of wit and intelligence. Unfortunately, their text presents the reader with little more than boilerplate commentary on the stupidities on display--writing on a par with the humor column of a once a week small town newspaper, with all the banality that implies.

Thus, a book that should have taken a day and a half to read ended up sitting in my bedroom for weeks. But at least I get to get rid of it when I return it to the library. If the local branch is not particularly assiduous about weeding the collection, then--based on its merits--Unusually Stupid Americans may remain on the shelves there, unmoved and unread, for years. Maybe decades. Maybe until the pages rot away to dust. And who will be stupid ones then?

Recently Read

The Areas of My Expertise
by John Hodgman

Mildly amusing.

That was the opening line I was hoping to use in this review of John Hodgman's The Areas of My Expertise. It seemed appropriate, given what I have long seen of Hodgman's work on The Daily Show. His segments, tough few and far between (there may be a hint there), can usually conjure up a good dose of laughs. And I want to be as charitable as possible, because comedy is hard. Being funny isn't easy.

But, apparently, being interesting isn't all that easy either.

I rarely review a book I have not bothered to finish, but in this case I've decided to make an exception. Not once but twice, during the process of reading these pages, I actually fell asleep. I don't mean my attention wandered for a minute or two; I literally dropped my head and shuffled off to snoresville, two separate times, while slogging through Hodgman's words. That was enough to call it for me--boring, unentertaining, and not worth the rest of my time.

Perhaps the failure lies in the premise. As a compendium of ostensible facts drawn from Hodgman's supposedly vast knowledge of everything, the book seems tailor-made for quick, easy and light-hearted fun. But Hodgman's literary persona--a written version of the same arch, stealth-silly, and supercilious character from The Daily Show--comes across as vastly more off-putting in print than it ever does on TV. Even in bite-sized morsels of text the effect quickly becomes grating and robs the jokes of any real impact, muting the funny through the overweening impact of that unlikeable identity.

So much, then, for one title from my supposed Summer of light reading. The Areas of My Expertise will not cut it in any season, be it for light reading or some weird form of personal punishment. Avoid it.

A Class Issue

I've been saying it for years: Fat is a class issue. Meaning, in the United States in particular, whether or not one is obese has a lot to do with your socioeconomic class. The condition is not entirely determined by your bank account, but your money has a heavy influence on your weight.

Now, at least, someone has agreed with me--or at least expressed that agreement in public. I call to your attention this article, Slim Chances for America's obese by author Gillian Tett, as posted on the Financial Times website. The money quote:

…one key for higher obesity rates in poor areas is that those communities have less access to expensive fresh food, exercise and other health aids. The problem is widespread among children, where the obesity rates have grown at a particularly sharp rate. Conversely, surveys suggest that individuals who are obese tend not just to suffer worse health, but have less-positive job prospects.

A few comments to make here: it's refreshing to see someone acknowledge the plain fact that fresh foods is expensive. So often, when this topic is broached, the discussion includes a scolding tone about how ridiculous it is that the poor don't eat enough of that good, fresh, and presumably cheap produce that the (well-compensated) commentator gets to enjoy on a regular basis. That is just nonsense; fresh produce--especially good fresh produce, which you can't get at the supermarket--is not cheap. Not only does it often cost more per unit (or, more particularly for the subject at hand, per calorie) on the face of it, but fresh foods are, ahem, fresh. That is, they go bad. Every fruit that rots, because the buyer did not have the opportunity to eat it before was lost, is wasted money. And--this may shock you, if you are a pundit--poor people don't have money to waste. A can of Spaghettios may be shit, and not very healthy, but it's shelf stable. You won't lose to decay a penny of what you spend on it.

Also, as Tett notes at the end of the above quote, if you're poor and obese you're likely to stay that way. I know from personal experience, if I go looking for a job, all other things being equal, the potential employer is going to hire the skinny person over me. This may, perhaps, be enacted with an eye towards the bottom line, via health insurance premiums. But just as likely, it's because the person who's doing the hiring simply doesn't like the look of you and your excess adipose tissue. You get trapped in a vicious cycle, one that is almost impossible to break with out a lot of help, or perhaps just some dumb luck.

Notably, many of the comments that follow Tett's piece are dedicated to refuting the position her article lays out. This is not surprising; no group lives more on the bad side of the Real Golden Rule™ ("Blame the object of your hatred for being the object of your hatred.") than the obese. That strategy--denying that the ever-growing problem of obesity in this society is something more than millions of individual personal failings--has grown in tandem with the problem. It's one of the reasons that this issue is not likely to be resolved anytime soon, not just in an election year (as Tett points out in relation to governmental intervention).

But at least now I have one example that confirms that I'm not just a lone voice in the wilderness.

Recently Read

The Character of Cats
by Stephen Budiansky

Cats sure do have character. Cats sure are characters. The question is, how much does author Stephen Budiansky reveal, which we don't already know, about that subject in his book, The Character of Cats? The best answer I can give you is, some.

The Character of Cats
by Stephen Budiansky

Budiansky's work reads as a natural history of the domesticated cat, covering well-worn topics such as the origin of their partnership with humans in ancient Egypt and their supposed vilification in medieval Europe; vaguely familiar ground (to cat enthusiasts) such as the feline's natural inclinations towards loner living and territoriality; and all the way through to information on more obscure items (in some cases, through new and recent scholarship) such as cat learning ability and the range of personalities found in the population of domestic kitties.

In some of these cases, the author's assertions are challenging and provocative. For example, Budiansky reports on new thinking about the domestication process that brought formerly wild animals--including cats--into the human realm, ideas that turn the traditional view on its head. Cats have long been seen as "the only animal to have domesticated itself," whereas the rest of the farmyard crew came to their lots in life via a conscious process of subjugation by humans. However, Budiansky calls on recent scientific studies and makes the opposite claim: it was cats who were purposely domesticated (or at least semi-domesticated) by people, while other animal species took the yoke upon themselves as a response to "evolutionary trouble" (meaning loss of habitat, dwindling numbers, etc.).

It's an intriguing claim--but are we sure it's true? Budiansky's argues persuasively from observed experiments, but should we really conclude that everyone who thought about this topic prior to now just got it all wrong? And not just wrong, but completely backwards? If this is the first book of natural history you've ever read, you may be inclined to swallow the argument whole and just move on. But if your experience with the field includes more than these pages, you've certainly encountered exactly this sort of dynamic before: a back and forth set of points and counterpoints around a bone of contention that is not made crystal clear by the biological, genetic, or paleontological evidence. Think of the dinosaurs and their extinction--there are still holdouts who do not accept the asteroid theory and argue for other suspects in that particular whodunit. If experts are themselves uncertain about these matters, how can humble lay readers such as ourselves come down on one side or the other?

Cats, of course, are beguiling in many ways, and lend themselves quite well to this sort of uncertainty. Take, as another example, the state of their vision. Are cats colorblind? They were long thought to be so. And then some observers made claims that cats can and do see color. Now, Budiansky weighs in on the side of feline colorblindness, citing experimental results and the physical structures in cats' eyes (cones and rods), to back up his position. But is that the last word on the matter? How many more times will we see new claims made, on both sides of this issue, in the future?

Thus, the reader must take what he reads in The Character of Cats with a grain of salt--at least where his own direct observations can not confirm or deny the author's assertions. Still, Budiansky's views on our favorite furry friends provide some value. Later sections of the book, dealing with cat psychology and learning potential, should be read by anyone with a serious interest in the health and well-being of cats. In particular, getting a handle on how cats see the world--and thus how they can taught positive behaviors and cajoled away from destructive antics--can be of particular value to anyone sharing territory with a kitty (or more than one).

Lastly, Budiansky brings a solid writing style to the pages in The Character of Cats. The reader may learn a thing or two about cats, but that does not mean he's in for a scholarly slog. The tone of the text remains light and readable through most of its length. The casually interested, as well as the hardcore cat fan, can get through this slim volume without any problems.

In sum, The Character of Cats passes the test. If you'd like to add a few good nuggets of information to your pool of knowledge about our fabulous feline friends, this book is worth your time.

Milestone

Today (Friday June 15) was a big deal. I weighed myself this morning, and for the first time in 7 years--since 2005--I saw a number below 290 on my scale. Granted, it was 289.5--just a hair's breadth below the milestone number--and the next time I step on the thing it will probably read something a few pounds heavier, again. But at least this is a clear sign of progress made. That's what you have to call it when you see numbers you haven't seen in a long time. I can move further forward now and maintain the confidence that my health, my real health, will eventually return to what it was back in the halcyon days of the end of the 20th century.