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I, Claudius

September 8, 2015 / posted in images of being-human, life as we know it, love, lyrical-narratives, reviews / No Comments

I, Claudius (Claudius, #1)I, Claudius by Robert Graves
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What a great book. Here, Graves takes some liberties with history, obviously, as no one knew what did or did not happen. But we do see the corruption of individuals within families interwrapped with such a complete power as to be a heady frightful mess.

While I saw the BBC tv show in serial as a teenager, this helped me appreciate history in a way that I did not for a long time. The interrelation of life, family, power, money and all the things that make us human is what elevates this story to a point of the human sublime.

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Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain

August 13, 2015 / posted in images of being-human, love, reviews, Theory / No Comments

Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and GainUnbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain by Portia de Rossi
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a very engrossing book. Portia De Rossi reveals much about herself in the process. While its obvious from the beginning that she needed to be in a different place than where most of the story takes place for herself to be even considering writing such a book, she does take us to the mindset where she was originally for her own struggle to be possible.

This is a particularly cogent tale, one that reminds us that self acceptance is perhaps the most important aspect to being well, who we are. And that taking care of ourself (or caring) is, as early Heidigger stated over and over, the very nature of being and existing.

While I appreciate the clarity with which her writing presents itself, some of her struggle and transformation do seem to be clipped. I suppose one can’t really write about it except factually, to a degree, which exemplifies the narrator’s very rational and direct mind. This is a frightening story about how the contextual baggage of seeing ones self is often all we have. This story does have a happy ending. I am glad to have read it.

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The Enchanted Barn

June 26, 2015 / posted in images of being-human, love, reviews / No Comments

The Enchanted BarnThe Enchanted Barn by Grace Livingston Hill
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Congruent with American fiction, buildings play a role in the plot. Named after the building, the becoming of a home from a barn parallels the budding love story between a kindly but young, wealthy man and a spunky, beautiful young girl. Most of the drama lies in the young girl (and her family’s) will not to take charity from this wealthy man (and yet still doing so) but also how they don’t want him to play with her heart. And of course, he does not.

The rest of the book consists of events that work solely to draw them together as a couple. In a way, this idealized little book of relationship of the sexes from the late 1910s already shows us the model upon which American romance is to play. In that sense, the idealism of the characters is a portraiture in style. Somewhat refreshing.

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The Timeless Way of Building

May 29, 2015 / posted in art, images of being-human, life as we know it, love, lyrical-narratives, manifesto, reviews, Theory / No Comments

The Timeless Way of BuildingThe Timeless Way of Building by Christopher W. Alexander
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In this thoughtful book, Chris Alexander takes an approach to architecture that understands it through the filter of human (and non-human) agency. He understands that the most useful buildings are ones that are created by the maximization of agency of the people involved, with the utilization of language based patterns that we inhabit to organize our behavior. He writes this book almost as if talking in a dream. Reading this book is a visceral experience of stepping into the a shower.

It’s quite a masterful work, one that deals with the aesthetics of embodiedness rather than the more mundane (but necessary) considerations of budgeting, and so on. In a way, this a book of one who is entering a mastery of the craft, where the detailed considerations fall to the wayside as the considerations of that pure level of agency come into full consideration.

Alexander’s method is more meditative and thoughtful, one that seems geared towards his process of consideration and his familiarity with the “pattern languages” that he utilizes more than anything else. What I find most interesting in this book is that he utilizes spaces from other cultures all the while remarking that such patterns are built into our native language. Are they then, really more a function of our cultural-mind? He suggests we know this intuitively, and yet most people cannot build accordingly as buildings cannot be formed from a poverty of our languaged patterns. So that seems like a big epistemological-cultural hole. But at the same time, his thoughts are so compelling, you want to believe in them. That there is a potentially rich environment of knowledge and consideration that we can dig from, only if we were in tune with it!

It’s no surprise then, that he originates in the Berkeley area, as San Francisco is the hotbed of such hippy mysticism. Still, there’s something to be said for his approach and his “method” which takes a much less mechanical view of building. We should gear our use appropriately to the individuals for whom a building should embody! Our culture is impoverished due to the fragmentation of disciplines and the jealous guardians who don’t want to share with their economic competitors! In a very real way he is talking about Taoism. I look forward to reading more of his work.

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Love in Idleness

May 23, 2015 / posted in images of being-human, life as we know it, love, reviews / No Comments

Love in IdlenessLove in Idleness by Amanda Craig
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Despite its slow start, with seemingly an impossible number of characters, Craig pulls this story together in a surprising way. We know it’s based on Shakespheare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. And even still, she still manages to delight and surprise us. In a strange way, what comes out of this is a middle class critique of the wealthy. The loss of influence of the wealthy matron, and the rise of a single mother seem to be the inevitable pact that Craig makes. We admire the wealth. We want the lifestyle, and yet, this is only made possible due to the presence of the wealth and the exotic location of being somewhere (rich and idle) that this story could even happen. Despite the valorization of the middle class value of working for your own way, this story isn’t possible for middle class people.

All the same, Craig manages to make this a compelling read for me, despite the sloven pace. She finds her tempo towards the end, and even though we can tell what the ending will be, it’s still steam rolls forward with all the fury of a comedy. Perhaps this is due to the writer’s energy more than anything else.

The only complaint I have about the story, other than its pacing, is that her attempts to speak for the daughter seem too much. She doesn’t speak through the daughter’s voice, but overlays onto the daughters attitude observations worded concisely as an adult would make. This is a bit detracting, for the “magic” of the People seem only possible through the eyes of a child, and those eyes may, at times, feel a bit contrived.

The burdens of modern motherhood also feel a bit overlaid. The character of Polly and Meenu both add a dimension of reflexivity that doesn’t detract from the story, but adds ruffage that make the entire cast seem more real as people. In a strange way, Polly and Meenu thus “switch places” though this seemed more accidental than planned, since Polly didn’t reflect on this positional twist whatsoever.

Craig’s “twist” with the husband too, didn’t seem terribly put on as an afterthought but it did seem a little deus ex machina. The little brother’s explanation of his big brother also seemed too much like a reflexive self justification. So I thought that Theo’s storyline could have been explained better. In a way, the “update” of Shakespheares work was truly an update, as it told the story through the normalcy of a sitcom cast, meant to appeal to idle upper middle class liberals, who would want a happy ending for everyone.

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Sula

May 19, 2015 / posted in art, images of being-human, life as we know it, love, lyrical-narratives, reviews / No Comments

SulaSula by Toni Morrison
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Yes, we know that Toni Morrison talks about the deprivations of poverty, racial bigotry and its effects on black communities and especially on women of those communities.

Here in this book however, is an interesting take. The close and endearing friendship of two little girls extend beyond their life choices. One to assimilate into the black community from where she grew. And the other to strike out into the broader world beyond and then return to that community with a broader view. And while Sula returns to become a pariah, acting as scapegoat so as to unify the community that brought her up and hated her, so she also saw beyond it to a code of ethics not born of that community but one that sparked her friendship with her close friend from beyond the grave.

This is a pretty amazing work, as it invites us to get a glimpse of the early to mid 20th century’s economic and social forces in creating this black community as a place, so that the friendship of two little girls in that community could blossom and approach a meaning of its own.

It was confusing at first, to spend so much time with Sula’s maternal lineage. But this allows us to see the vector of her release into the world, and her sublime return as one who understands. In standing apart as an outsider, Sula allows us to nail down the black community in its pain and suffering, to come together in a time of need (dislike of her) and so their reduced vision is unable to withstand the sight of original singularity.

Short book, but well worth the read.

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Katherine

May 4, 2015 / posted in images of being-human, love, reviews / No Comments

KatherineKatherine by Anya Seton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a very strong text. Although I didn’t realize it was a historical romance novel, I still found it to be quite compelling. The characters are lively, and the modality of the descriptions are inline with “old timey-ness”. The language is not too stilted, and the sensibilities are modestly “old timey”.

What I liked about the book was the unexpected development of the character. At first it felt very much like a text acknowledging how women were trapped in a world ruled by men (which in the 13th century England, was so). But eventually it cleared out to become a text about a spiritual coming-of-age. After all, Katherine’s reputation was ruined by her affair. And as the facts of their lives followed, Katherine did come to leave him and then eventually marry.

In this sense, the pacing was quite appropriate, and even if the story was long, it was also compelling in its details and political forecasting. I am not certain that the background actions of the Royal family would have been as important to Katherine as a lover of John of Guant but then again, it gives a sense of legitimacy and romance to the atmosphere.

What I liked the most about this story was the execution preformed by Seton. She set out to write this story within the constraints and pulled it off, with character and plot. The development of Katherine was both expected and unexpected. After all, she did need to come onto her own as her own woman, which she does admirably, in order to be worthy of John of Guant at the end. I do believe as well, that John of Guant did need to also show some worthiness, although he seems more of a foil for Katherine’s development than anything else. How does love fit into this? I think some more spiritual placement of love could have been needed, although Katherine did not become a nun as she did intend when she was sad, and that love remained unresolved until the ending we are waiting for happens.

So in this sense, her growth as a character was appropriate to the story, although I wonder how her re-found luxury sat with her spirituality. I would have liked to hear more of that, as Seton did previously make a big deal of it with her taking it for granted, and admiring all this wealth around her.

Despite never becoming king of queen, we do still find a happy ending, situated for the couple. And that was followed by a nice afterword that sealed the book.

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The Fractal Geometry of Nature

March 18, 2015 / posted in agential realism, life as we know it, love, reviews, Theory / No Comments

The Fractal Geometry of NatureThe Fractal Geometry of Nature by Benoît B. Mandelbrot
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This beautiful book is about Mandelbrot’s love of science, mathematics and all forms of knowing. He is humorous at times, dense, and waxing on about fractals and changes that are self similar. It is through the figure of a difference that something is known. Fractals are unique in that they are that difference regardless of scale, that is, as Mandelbrot said of Leibniz, that Leibniz first recognized a straight line as being a curve whose arbitrary measure was universally applicable by itself by any other arbitrary measure.

Fractals are thus, a balance of form and measure and thus perfectly applicable to describing self similiarities that occur throughout various scales. By necessity these fractals are thus found in areas of maximal distribution where it be biological, informational, materially, socially or otherwise. Each bit of aggregate from each context can be traced through out some of the other contexts so that a distribution of their differences can be expressed mathematically as a formalization of unithood — difference — itself. Fractals can thus be understood as the limit of scaleless models of difference. Mandelbrot goes over a variety of contexts in which we can understand their expressedly different dimensions, differing topographies, as structured rules through time, or a static interface that modifies itself as scale is adjusted.

At times, Mandelbrot can become overwhelming as he notices as particular “cut” in an equation, be it a variable or an expressed tendency, and in vocalizing it, circulates around that textual point to arrange chapters, whorls on whorls, in which sections and sections of sections let us know when one thing was described and another thing began.

And so, as this is a book about the fractal geometry of nature, Mandelbrot shows us his love by talking admiringly of other mathematicians, many not celebrated, or fully acknowledged in their time. These technicians and their stories become the backdrop of those who developed this metric enough to let us see, and explore these subtle differences and their odd refinements. Indeed, it is really to those quiet, anonymous men, who established the halls of science that Mandelbrot writes this book to, for he would have liked for them to experience the joy he feels at being able to explore these monsters, while many of them did not, due to the contemporaneous level of mathematical understanding not yet understanding how to recognize (and thus, explore) the fractal nature of geometry in all its glories.

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The Gargoyle

November 12, 2014 / posted in images of being-human, love, reviews, universal nothing / No Comments

The GargoyleThe Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This story has two different themes which are inextricably tied together: love and redemption. That in itself is not so new or different, but the way in which Davidson goes about it is intensely interesting.

While the neutral background characters provide the context for understanding this story as a love story (their background romance is sneaky in the sense that it works well to do this), Davidson also intersplices many other background stories and inherent side chapters to do the same thing. None of these stories by itself is compelling. And while they provide the skeptical narrator interest at first, he soon drops this rhetoric in favor of oh, you get the point. In fact much of the narrator acts as a skeptic for us, so that we can further suspend our belief.

In that sense, it’s quite a good structure.

I did find much of the passionate pleas for love, for unconditional acceptance to be moving, probably because it’s so fantastic. But that is how faith is supposed to work, as Pascal’s Pensees work, Christianity is so inexplicable and unexplanable, we have no choice but to believe! And Davidson’s craft works in much the same way. If you are able to go with it, including the highly contingent and very fantastic characters that provide the fodder for disbelief–that each of these very different characters from very different worlds can connect with one another on such a common basis such as pure presence–in the form of love.

In that way, this book works like a multicultural manifesto, in which people from all walks of life must seek a connection to the unnamed anchor that acts as an absolute reference beyond both life and death. At this point both hero and heroine make their way through all their reincarnated lives in an effort to be redeemed. Not just through their heart, but to give up their heart through each other into the hands of a loving God.

It’s definitely a nice tale that strikes at a complete world view appropriate to the readership of probably mostly northern European/American audiences with a small smattering of Other in the form of polite Japanese discourse. And that’s cool, I guess.

One could always just read Pascal and get the same point. But then you wouldn’t get some of Davidson’s lovely lines.

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Wise Children

November 10, 2014 / posted in images of being-human, love, lyrical-narratives, reviews / No Comments

Wise ChildrenWise Children by Angela Carter
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

In the guise of a vaudeville carnival, Carter tells a story of twin sisters who reduplicates their actions. Like their twin dads, the double aspect of the characters echo the reality of their situation by emphasizing not just the contingent singularity of each individual actor but also the collective milieu of how their family history doubly marks reality. Out of Shakespearean tragedy Carter takes the figure of the carnivalesque in its outlandish reality. Being actors, children of the theater, our narrator Dora comes to an appreciation of her role (and her uncle’s or father’s role) in life, an acceptance at old age that places them at the center of their story. The story of their father becomes the story of the daughters, as the father inscribes the limit upon which daughters can understand themselves

“D’you know, I sometimes wonder if we haven’t been making him up all along,” she said. “If he isn’t just a collection of our hopes and dream wishful thinking in the afternoons. Something to set our lives by, like the old clock in the hall, which is real enough, in itself, but which we’ve got to wind up to make it go.”

And like roles in a theater, the melodrama of a character is a willful desire for validation — their famous father pursues it–their capitalist uncle pursues it–the different aspects of Hollywood, the characters in their different roles as they try to negotiate their way to being recognized by the closest among them.

So while family is precariously anxious because absent father, absent mother, the daughters find their way through the various roles they play (burlesque dancers and singers) who are able to come of age, as wise children, always children even in their 70s, knowing more about their elders, and their role among them to an apex at which Dora can begin to see all that she is reflected in her lover-uncle at the end, where players and actors lose their roles and retain a distilled subjectivity. He “wasn’t only the one dear man, tonight, but a kaleidoscope of faces, gestures, caresses. He was not only the love of my life but all the loves of my life at once, the curtain call of my career as a lover.”

Carter teases out one of the truths of personal history. Through the filter of Shakespheare and drama entering the high capitalism of the mid to late 20th century, she shows us how we learn from our closest relations, parents, our place in the world as how we are to relate to others, how we are to relate at all even if the continuity is next to or even less than nothing.

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