With the Tipping Point being so entertaining to read, the momentum just carried me right into Gladwell’s newer book on the importance of subconscious snap judgments for all aspects of our lives. Of course there is quite some evidence saying that even when we make seemingly rational decisions, our brains may just be bullshitting us profoundly (in Gazzanigas famous experiments on split brain patients, for example, subjects readily report completely bogus reasons for an action, because the half of their brain speaking, having no clue why the other half did something, makes up a story – without the subject being aware that he’s being conned by the gooey stuff in his head. But I digress), so the phenomenon that the resons for our decisions and actions aren’t always available to our conscious self might just be the tip of the problem that we actually come up with explanations for our actions after the fact by default, and the only reason it tends to make sense so much is that we have been around ourselves long enough to generally know what we will be doing, and have a fairly good theory of our own minds. The most important part of this book I found to be the notion that we are able to shape how our subconscious makes its decisions, and the chapter on how requiring conscious justifications messes up and changes our judgments – unless we’re experts and already know what we’re talking about. Next time somebody asks you why you like something, think twice about thinking about it – you suddenly might not like it any more.

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Friends tell me I’ve read this book several years ago and liked it, but try as I might, I can’t remember it. Upon (re?)reading it now, I have an explanation of why that might be. The general theme – social phenomena are subject to nonlinear mechanisms that mean minimal causes in the right place or time can have enormous effects – is of the variety that is so obvious once you get it, you immediately forget the person who told you. Something that obvious doesn’t have an author, or a form, it’s just an impresonal truth. The book is an entertaining and insightful read, but I can already feel the particulars fading in my mind. In a few years I’ll be ready to read it again.

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A subject certainly worthy of discussion, the discussion of how to excavate properly in the great outdoors and the health and environmental hazards connected with it, may be stretched a bit thin over the length of an, albeit short, book. A chapter in a general book on life outdoors would have been more appropriate. Even so, Meyer’s tone is refreshingly unconcerned with propriety – she explains about the difficulties getting it right in the introduction – and the stories she has collected can be entertaining. The biggest value for me was to learn about history and mechanism of the diseases – like Giardia – that make drinking unprocessed surface water such a hazard these days. The practical tips seemed nothing common sense wouldn’t have you know already, though maybe it’s a good thing to see them spelled out.

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How refreshing, after reading a lot of idea driven, gimmicky SF, to discover this. I found it in the bookstore run by the Friends of the Berkeley public library, among pulp paperbacks, and though I’d never heard of Wyndham, was intrigued by the cover art and the fact it had come out on Penguin. The story is a crossover between Capeks wonderful War with the Newts and Well’s War of the Worlds, with an extraterrestrial menace, quite possbily flying in from Jupiter, settling in the deeps of earths oceans, and proceeding to exterminate the bothersome land mammals. The story is gripping – though the solutions’s alomost perfect parallel to Wells’ is a bit disappointing – but the true strength of the book lies in the two main characters, a married couple of radio documentary writers, who witness most of the events from close up, but have hardly any active part in the matters at all. This viewpoint lends the story enormous credibility, based on the one hand in the strong execution of characterization and background, but also in the familiarity of events unfolding on a large scale that one is powerless to stop or alter, yet keeps reflecting upon and discussing as though one did. Finally, the acerbic depiction of cold war diplomacy at the height of madness is the crowning piece on a very nice cake.

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While certainly better than it’s two predecessors, this final installment in the Hyperion story still subtracts from the original book. Why do sequels always fall so badly short of truly adding to a work, and why do creators still have the urge too do them? The Shrike was a mythical force, the future a mysterious place, the present hardly comprehensible when Hyperion ended. Now all that is dissolved in an action feast full of explosions, a quaint patchwork of worlds the size of small villages and populated by caricatures of foreign cultures and a badly contrived plot. While it is challenging for an action driven plot to have a practically omniscient character, his solution of “I know but I won’t tell you yet” is infuriating. The fall of the Pax at the end is a complete Deus-ex-machina, and the twist ending makes no sense whatsoever. But the biggest failure of all three sequels lies in the delivery of what Hyperion wisely withheld – answers to the philosophical and ethical questions. Simmons goes on at great length about how utterly and fantastically otherworldly the Ousters are, yet their behavior, thinking, language and mores are indistinguishable from today’s middle class America. I also find the revelling in violence, torture and death on an enormous scale slightly disturbing. For someone proposing a culture of empathy and universal love, Simmons shows an odd fascination with intense cruelty and suffering.

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When I reviewed Fall of Hyperion in this space, I said that I wanted to wait a substantial time before continuing on. Unfortunately I succumbed to the temptation. While I don’t really regret having read Endymion, it is yet another step down from Hyperion’s brilliance of vision and design. While Simmons world continues to amaze with its complex design and rich tapestry of culture and science – which, once again, becomes thinnest in the attempts of creating a cultural history of the future by combining ficticious future classics with actual ones – his characterization, plot and dialogue are bordering on the horrid. He often falls into the trap of having to tell us justifications and motivations instead of showing them, and the whole book has the wearisome feeling of being but a prequel to the final volume. The adventures of Aenea, Endymion and Bettik on their way to Old Earth seem arbitrary and unconnected, and while the multiple death ordeal of the Pax crew charged with tracking them down is chilling, their near success in the face of incredible odds is silly, and can in the end only be explained by the near omniscience of the dei-ex-machina in the TechnoCore. I’ll hold off final judgment until I’ve read Ride of Endymion, but so far I strongly feel Simmons should have stopped after Hyperion.

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To anyone following European public discourse and politics, the anti-American bias should be obvious. It is a curious fact of human psychology that an argument based on correct facts can still be wrong, and this complication afflicts this book as well. There is no way to defend the current American administration against the criticisms leveled against it, nor is there a way to dispel the other prominent myths about American held in Europe, namely that its capitalist forces are out of control and that it’s wealth is based on exploitation. But when these criticism are voiced by powers that have no inherent interest in solving the underlying problems, but rather are the competition. As much as I would have liked to think of the European protest against the Iraq war as an outpouring of compassion, and to view the piles of Michael Moore’s books in german bookstores as the proof of genuine interest in opposing ruling power they would have been in the US, I know both are at least to a good degree expressions of less pure motives. Reading this book made me question my own approach in my parallel blog, where I collect little stories that seem to me to reflect tendencies of isolation and aggressive competition, somehow equating that with my experience here – as though I weren’t appalled by the cold and unfriendly behaviour of many Germans, too, every time I visit.

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An interesting anecdote which maybe doesn’t sum up this volume of writing advice, but certainly illuminates it, has Mozart being asked for hints on symphony composition by a young, aspiring composer. He advises to start with small pieces and work up, and when the composer is confused by this and points out that Mozart himself wrote symphonies at quite an early age, Mozart replies “Yes, but I never asked for hints”. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the advice in this volume only applies to writers of mediocre talent, or that it isn’t useful for experts. While the individual essays in this volume vary greatly in quality, with Asimov providing the largest number of essays, and has the least substance to his superficial und uncultered boasts, there are a few pieces that delve deeply into the problems of building entire worlds from scratch. This problem is arguably one of the most important reasons for the gap in literary quality between science fiction and the rest of it – where ordinary narrative can rely on the reader’s ability to fill in gaps in background, characterization and psychology, science fiction must often close them, using original material for it. The seams of implausibility that result whenever this goes wrong wreak havoc with characters, plot and world plausibility, requiring the aspiring writer to pay much more attention to minute details and work it all out. Incidentally and as an aside, the other big reason for the quality gap would be the fact that writers genuinely interested in general themes of human existence rather than scientific what-if-narrative will naturally shy away from setting their plots against an artificial background, leaving a large faction of people like Asimov, who openly admit that they care not one bit about subtelties of storytelling and characterization, and that ideas are all that matters. It’s too bad, really.

The high points of this collection are the essays by Poul Anderson on world building, Norman Spinrad’s somewhat dated sounding advice on how to project current trends using simple cyclical models – it’s a funny moment when he reports in awe that the spreadsheet he uses is a file of gargantuan 600 kilobytes. Good old days -, Hal Clements advice on how to create believable psychologies in an unknown world, and Connie Willis treatise on humourour writing – though technically that last one doesn’t belong here, since she herself points out that there is nothing peculiar to writing funny SF opposed to funny anything else. Also entertaining is Stanley Schmids list of cliches editors will not ever want the read, though I have to say that if you indeed want to write an Adam and Eve story because you think the idea is highly original, another line of work might be better suited.

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I’m not likely to read the whole of it, but I found the basic knitting instructions very satisfying – they got me from zero to 50 (rows) in just a few hours – and I’m very happy with the project I picked and modified from it. A striped scarf (of course), with a subtle pattern created by switching between left and right stitches. I guess that makes me a knitwit now. Yay!

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A young man goes into the mountains to herd sheep and falls deeply in love, changing the rest of his life? Sound familiar? It took me until I was almost done with this exuberant diary to notice the funny parallels to this years Oscar winner. Since Proulx’ story and Lee’s movie are a commentary on the myth of rugged wilderness and the lone, heroic men populating it, it’s interesting to compare the two on that level. Muir in this trip and the path it set him on for his life, shaped another pervasive myth – that of unspoiled nature being more than a resource waiting to be used, but of value in itself. While the overpowering enthusiasm of his prose (written long after the trip), and his referring to plants and animals alike as “people” sound very quirky, and certainly his habit to talk to the flower people does, they are also part and parcel to his view of nature as a vast society, of which man is but a small part. His awe in the face of everything nature throws his way is a great inspiration, and Dan Simmons’ suggestion in the Hyperion novels, that with time Muir he might turn into the patron saint of his own religion seems very convincing. He certainly was crazy enough for the job.

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