Monday, September 17, 2007
Evaporation of Intimidation
During the last session of the museum conference, which happened on Saturday morning, I met Greg Britton, the director of the Minnesota Historical Society Press (MHS Press). The session was on building a publishing enterprise within a historical society. MHS Press puts out some gorgeous books and I'd link to their site online, but I'm getting an error when I attempt it, so I'll just link to MHS' home page instead. Anyway, they create fab books and here was the director, so I was intimidated. No idea why, really, but I sucked it up and went to meet Mr. Britton after the session was over. I had a couple of technical questions, which probably sounded lame, but I asked anyway, shaking in my shoes the whole time.
Then came time for the awards banquet and a bunch of us Minnesotans had agreed to meet outside the Grand Ballroom ahead of time. And, who should I see, but Greg Britton. I was on the verge of feeling intimidated again and then he said something about wishing he could attend the Dave Matthews Band concert that night, and suddenly the feeling of intimidation evaporated. A small commonality was all it took.
Then came time for the awards banquet and a bunch of us Minnesotans had agreed to meet outside the Grand Ballroom ahead of time. And, who should I see, but Greg Britton. I was on the verge of feeling intimidated again and then he said something about wishing he could attend the Dave Matthews Band concert that night, and suddenly the feeling of intimidation evaporated. A small commonality was all it took.
Labels: atlanta, books, dave matthews band, dmb, greg britton, minnesota, minnesota historical society press, publishing
Sunday, August 12, 2007
All the Rage
Stephanie Meyer's Twight series is all the rage. I should know, my children and their friends are reading the books and twittering on about this vampire romance. Daughter's friends introduced her to the first book, "Twilight." The second book in the series is "New Moon," and the third, "Eclipse," was just released. On Friday, Daughter's friend (and said friend's mommy) took her to a book signing in Woodbury, Minnesota. There were over 500 people there and Stephanie was willing to sign as many copies of her books as people wanted. Daughter introduced Young Son to the books and he couldn't stand that she and her friends kept talking about them without him having read them. So he set about reading "Twilight," quickly taking in a couple of hundred pages in a couple of days. This is quite something for Young Son because he prefers books with images and romance is just yuck. He decided he wanted a signed copy of "Eclipse," too. Daughter took her copy and his (both purchased by Daughter's friend's mommy) and had them signed. If I ever get time, I'll have to see what all the fuss is about.
Labels: books, daughter, reading, stephanie meyer, twilight, young son
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Observations from Away
I don't know how this works for you, but every time I go to an unfamiliar place, my observational abilities increase. I notice all sorts of things that I would not pay any attention to if I was in that place on a regular basis. I spent three days at a workshop at the Minnesota Historical Society's History Center (MHS) in St. Paul. The workshop was on learning to properly digitize museum collections. Leigh Grinstead, our fearless leader, taught us about Dublin Core and meta-data and best practices and loads of other gobbledygook that I'll spare you from here. Suffice it to say that it was interesting and informative and I now know enough to know I still have a lot to learn.
While at MHS, workshop participants were given a chance to go through the exhibits, which were interesting to me not just from a content perspective, but from a design and construction perspective. I had three favorites. One was the exhibit on our State Capitol. The Capitol can be seen from a large window in the central hall, where the exhibit is located. MHS has kindly provided those tourist viewer glasses/binoculars so that visitors can peek at the details. People always talk about the golden horses and the golden peak on the Capitol, but I was thrilled to find that there are eagles encircling the dome - looking very much like friendly gargoyles. The Capitol was designed by Minnesota architect Cass Gilbert, who not only designed the building, but the furnishings as well.
Another favorite exhibit was Camera Ojibwe, which is a compliment to a new book by historian Bruce White. The book is called "We Are at Home: Pictures of the Ojibwe People". The exhibit, which was mounted in three months, if I'm remembering correctly, shows photographs of the Ojibwe in posed shots and in every day shots. There are also bandolier bags and other related artifacts on display in the exhibit. It will only be up until early August, so if this interests you, high-tail it to MHS.
The other exhibit I loved, especially from a holy-crap, how'd they do that perspective, was Open House: If These Walls Could Talk, an exhibit that shows the history of one particular St. Paul house and the people who lived there. The exhibit is set up like a house, with a parlor, bedroom, bathroom, den, attic, living room, basement, hallways, and garden. As you walk through, there are all sorts of interactive features that enhance your knowledge about the house. There's a bed that has the words "Sit Here" shining on it. When you sit, the voice of a woman who lived in the house explains how the bed kept breaking - and then the bed breaks. Whomp! While you're on it. The really impressive part of the exhibit was the basement, which can be seen through a small window near the floor. When you look in, you see a staircase with boots and a thermos on the stairs, and below, a record player and suitcases and what looks like a child's scooter/bike. Here's the kicker. If this were truly a basement, the room would be hanging down in the MHS library below. It isn't. Can you guess how they accomplished this room? This exhibit recently won an award from the American Association for State and Local History and I'd like to think that basement had a little something to do with it.
On my last day of the workshop, I decided to walk around the outside of the History Center, which is gorgeous inside, but I'd already seen much of the inside and the day was too beautiful not to enjoy. When I got to John Ireland Boulevard, I saw the Capitol, and then looked over my shoulder and saw St. Paul's Cathedral. The two buildings are ornate and domed and book-end the boulevard most purposefully. I asked Marcia Anderson, Head of Museum Collections of MHS, which building was constructed first. She said that the Capitol was and indicated that the church didn't want to be outdone as far as view and grandeur, so they built the cathedral. Marcia assisted in mounting the Camera Ojibwe exhibit and has been studying Ojibwe bandolier bags and other handcrafts for years. She's very knowledgeable and gracious.
Obviously, there was a lot to observe at MHS, but the observations didn't end there. On the evening of July 11, there was a reception for an art show called Reworks at The Minneapolis Foundation in the IDS Center. My husband's motorcycle table was accepted into this show of art made from recycled stuff. I'm so proud! His table fit right into the scheme of the office, so much so that we caught people setting their glasses on it. The food was to die for and all organic; we were introduced to the music of Ron Cheese; and there were loads of people in attendance. It was fun to be the wife of an artist, rather than to be the artist myself for a change.
And then there was the hotel . . . the Holiday Inn River Centre, which is a few blocks down the hill from MHS, kitty-corner from the Excel Energy Center. Have you ever noticed that you can feel entirely alone in a hotel, not seeing a soul on your floor while coming and going? You can hear 'em, but you can't see 'em. Spooky. Also, there's the issue of bathroom tile. After having tiled our own bathroom and kitchen, I'm forever checking out tile jobs. Hotel bathrooms are notorious for having poorly executed tile jobs, where tiles are cut unevenly, or don't match up quite right at the corners.
On the opposite end of the block from the hotel is Cossetta's restaurant, which serves pizza and Italian food. I ate a chicken penne and asparagus salad the first night, and my husband and I had pizza the second night. Delish! In between the hotel and Cossetta's is this quirky pop culture shop called Maharaja's. Music, smokes, posters, incense, a replica of Han Solo in carbonite (can be yours for only $4999 plus tax!), Buddha statues, KISS dolls, and a black light room filled with fuzzy posters are just a few of the wondrous things that can be found at Maharaja's. While there, I found an old Dave Matthews Band album - real vinyl in the 12" square jacket, folks. I couldn't check the price because it was in a locked cabinet behind a 45 rpm record. When the hubby and I walked back to the hotel from Maharaja's, I looked at the Excel Energy Center and wondered in a half-formed fashion if Dave Matthews Band had ever played there. While online yesterday, playing catch-up, I found a little item on Weekly Dave Speak that was oh so coincidental. Turns out that DMB had played a private concert at the Excel a mere two days before I was ensconced in the River Centre with a lovely view of St. Paul's Cathedral. How's that for weird?
Okay, one more thing and I'll give you a rest. While we (me, the hubby, our children, and hubby's folks and sister) were waiting in the IDS Center for the art show to begin, one of the children had to use the bathroom. There is not a single public restroom in the public areas of the IDS Center. We had to go through the Skyway to the next building to use the restrooms in Barnes and Noble. While I was waiting for the restroom brigade, I found a book on artist trading cards, little hand-made one-of-a-kind cards that artists make and trade with each other. I was taken by the form and now must simply try my hand at it.
While at MHS, workshop participants were given a chance to go through the exhibits, which were interesting to me not just from a content perspective, but from a design and construction perspective. I had three favorites. One was the exhibit on our State Capitol. The Capitol can be seen from a large window in the central hall, where the exhibit is located. MHS has kindly provided those tourist viewer glasses/binoculars so that visitors can peek at the details. People always talk about the golden horses and the golden peak on the Capitol, but I was thrilled to find that there are eagles encircling the dome - looking very much like friendly gargoyles. The Capitol was designed by Minnesota architect Cass Gilbert, who not only designed the building, but the furnishings as well.
Another favorite exhibit was Camera Ojibwe, which is a compliment to a new book by historian Bruce White. The book is called "We Are at Home: Pictures of the Ojibwe People". The exhibit, which was mounted in three months, if I'm remembering correctly, shows photographs of the Ojibwe in posed shots and in every day shots. There are also bandolier bags and other related artifacts on display in the exhibit. It will only be up until early August, so if this interests you, high-tail it to MHS.
The other exhibit I loved, especially from a holy-crap, how'd they do that perspective, was Open House: If These Walls Could Talk, an exhibit that shows the history of one particular St. Paul house and the people who lived there. The exhibit is set up like a house, with a parlor, bedroom, bathroom, den, attic, living room, basement, hallways, and garden. As you walk through, there are all sorts of interactive features that enhance your knowledge about the house. There's a bed that has the words "Sit Here" shining on it. When you sit, the voice of a woman who lived in the house explains how the bed kept breaking - and then the bed breaks. Whomp! While you're on it. The really impressive part of the exhibit was the basement, which can be seen through a small window near the floor. When you look in, you see a staircase with boots and a thermos on the stairs, and below, a record player and suitcases and what looks like a child's scooter/bike. Here's the kicker. If this were truly a basement, the room would be hanging down in the MHS library below. It isn't. Can you guess how they accomplished this room? This exhibit recently won an award from the American Association for State and Local History and I'd like to think that basement had a little something to do with it.
On my last day of the workshop, I decided to walk around the outside of the History Center, which is gorgeous inside, but I'd already seen much of the inside and the day was too beautiful not to enjoy. When I got to John Ireland Boulevard, I saw the Capitol, and then looked over my shoulder and saw St. Paul's Cathedral. The two buildings are ornate and domed and book-end the boulevard most purposefully. I asked Marcia Anderson, Head of Museum Collections of MHS, which building was constructed first. She said that the Capitol was and indicated that the church didn't want to be outdone as far as view and grandeur, so they built the cathedral. Marcia assisted in mounting the Camera Ojibwe exhibit and has been studying Ojibwe bandolier bags and other handcrafts for years. She's very knowledgeable and gracious.
Obviously, there was a lot to observe at MHS, but the observations didn't end there. On the evening of July 11, there was a reception for an art show called Reworks at The Minneapolis Foundation in the IDS Center. My husband's motorcycle table was accepted into this show of art made from recycled stuff. I'm so proud! His table fit right into the scheme of the office, so much so that we caught people setting their glasses on it. The food was to die for and all organic; we were introduced to the music of Ron Cheese; and there were loads of people in attendance. It was fun to be the wife of an artist, rather than to be the artist myself for a change.
And then there was the hotel . . . the Holiday Inn River Centre, which is a few blocks down the hill from MHS, kitty-corner from the Excel Energy Center. Have you ever noticed that you can feel entirely alone in a hotel, not seeing a soul on your floor while coming and going? You can hear 'em, but you can't see 'em. Spooky. Also, there's the issue of bathroom tile. After having tiled our own bathroom and kitchen, I'm forever checking out tile jobs. Hotel bathrooms are notorious for having poorly executed tile jobs, where tiles are cut unevenly, or don't match up quite right at the corners.
On the opposite end of the block from the hotel is Cossetta's restaurant, which serves pizza and Italian food. I ate a chicken penne and asparagus salad the first night, and my husband and I had pizza the second night. Delish! In between the hotel and Cossetta's is this quirky pop culture shop called Maharaja's. Music, smokes, posters, incense, a replica of Han Solo in carbonite (can be yours for only $4999 plus tax!), Buddha statues, KISS dolls, and a black light room filled with fuzzy posters are just a few of the wondrous things that can be found at Maharaja's. While there, I found an old Dave Matthews Band album - real vinyl in the 12" square jacket, folks. I couldn't check the price because it was in a locked cabinet behind a 45 rpm record. When the hubby and I walked back to the hotel from Maharaja's, I looked at the Excel Energy Center and wondered in a half-formed fashion if Dave Matthews Band had ever played there. While online yesterday, playing catch-up, I found a little item on Weekly Dave Speak that was oh so coincidental. Turns out that DMB had played a private concert at the Excel a mere two days before I was ensconced in the River Centre with a lovely view of St. Paul's Cathedral. How's that for weird?
Okay, one more thing and I'll give you a rest. While we (me, the hubby, our children, and hubby's folks and sister) were waiting in the IDS Center for the art show to begin, one of the children had to use the bathroom. There is not a single public restroom in the public areas of the IDS Center. We had to go through the Skyway to the next building to use the restrooms in Barnes and Noble. While I was waiting for the restroom brigade, I found a book on artist trading cards, little hand-made one-of-a-kind cards that artists make and trade with each other. I was taken by the form and now must simply try my hand at it.
Labels: artist trading cards, books, capitol, cathedral, dave matthews band, dmb, exhibits, family, history, hotel, husband, minnesota, museum, workshop
Monday, June 25, 2007
That's Soooo 2000
I've got my new issue of Wired magazine, working my way through it cover-to-cover. That doesn't mean I'm necessarily reading every little thing, but I like to work front-to-back so I don't miss something. The cover image/article is of Transformers - as in the "more than meets the eye" type. I didn't get into these as a kid, so haven't read the article yet. My son went right to it, though - first thing read. I was more interested in the the mapping article "The Whole Earth, Cataloged: How Google Maps is changing the way we see the world" by Evan Ratliff and "Dispatches From the Hyperlocal Future" by Bruce Sterling.
Wired is relentlessly future-seeking, which makes me breathless and frustrated. Can't keep up! Can't . . . keeeeeep. . . up! Part of what makes me feel this way is how Wired's articles talk about what happened a mere seven years ago as if it was ancient history. For example, did you know that the Captcha (those squiggly letters/numbers that you have to type in periodically when doing web work in order to foil spambots) was invented by Luis von Ahn in 2000? Luis von Ahn has moved on to figuring out how to teach computers how to recognize beauty. (See the article "The Human Advantage" by Clive Thompson.) Seems like the Captcha has been around a while, but seven years is nothing in human history. Of course, this notion of three, five, seven years ago being ancient history is not Wired's fault. It's the nature of technology that is warping our sense of time. Wired simply reflects that. (What does irritate me about Wired is its habit of amplifying how incredibly backwards people are if they don't keep up or don't know what every abbreviation means. Where is their online glossary when you need one?)
What astounds me is that human creativity in general has ramped up to that same dizzying speed as technology. Think about how many books are produced per year now as opposed to in the 1800s. The classics from the 1800s are classics because they didn't have as much competition. We have thousands of Ansel Adams, what with digital photography, millions of publishers with blogging (although a good share of those aren't worth the 0's and 1's they're written with), and how many gazillions of movie producers with YouTube. There is simply no way the human mind - a single human mind - can track everything. We simply have to do our best and forget the rest.
Wired is relentlessly future-seeking, which makes me breathless and frustrated. Can't keep up! Can't . . . keeeeeep. . . up! Part of what makes me feel this way is how Wired's articles talk about what happened a mere seven years ago as if it was ancient history. For example, did you know that the Captcha (those squiggly letters/numbers that you have to type in periodically when doing web work in order to foil spambots) was invented by Luis von Ahn in 2000? Luis von Ahn has moved on to figuring out how to teach computers how to recognize beauty. (See the article "The Human Advantage" by Clive Thompson.) Seems like the Captcha has been around a while, but seven years is nothing in human history. Of course, this notion of three, five, seven years ago being ancient history is not Wired's fault. It's the nature of technology that is warping our sense of time. Wired simply reflects that. (What does irritate me about Wired is its habit of amplifying how incredibly backwards people are if they don't keep up or don't know what every abbreviation means. Where is their online glossary when you need one?)
What astounds me is that human creativity in general has ramped up to that same dizzying speed as technology. Think about how many books are produced per year now as opposed to in the 1800s. The classics from the 1800s are classics because they didn't have as much competition. We have thousands of Ansel Adams, what with digital photography, millions of publishers with blogging (although a good share of those aren't worth the 0's and 1's they're written with), and how many gazillions of movie producers with YouTube. There is simply no way the human mind - a single human mind - can track everything. We simply have to do our best and forget the rest.
Labels: ansel adams, books, captchas, creativity, frustration, google, history, luis von ahn, maps, photography, technology, time, wired magazine, youtube
Sunday, June 17, 2007
It's Not the Heat . . .
I was on StumbleUpon and found a website for a woman who is putting together a book based on fan experiences of Dave Matthews Band. The woman, Lynda from New York, has created some very fine art inspired by the band's music. Check it out here. There's a link to her MySpace page on her website for more personal info about the artist.
As a writer and artist, the idea of inspiration is an interesting one to me. What is it about a particular band's music, or a particular writer's essay or book, or a particular artist's painting, that drives us to create something new? How does that inspiration turn and twist through the fibers of our own experience and emotions to convolute into something new, something that may, in turn, be inspirational for someone else?
In thinking about this, it would be fascinating to take an inspirational work and put together a schematic of all the additional works the original has spawned. Take something like Poe's "The Raven" and chart out its influence. Hmmm. Has this ever been done before? The genealogy of a work of art?
In other news, it's miserable hot again. No wait! It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Windy as all get out, too. The silvery backs of leaves are showing themselves, which means we're in for rain. It can come none too soon. I'm roasting.
As a writer and artist, the idea of inspiration is an interesting one to me. What is it about a particular band's music, or a particular writer's essay or book, or a particular artist's painting, that drives us to create something new? How does that inspiration turn and twist through the fibers of our own experience and emotions to convolute into something new, something that may, in turn, be inspirational for someone else?
In thinking about this, it would be fascinating to take an inspirational work and put together a schematic of all the additional works the original has spawned. Take something like Poe's "The Raven" and chart out its influence. Hmmm. Has this ever been done before? The genealogy of a work of art?
In other news, it's miserable hot again. No wait! It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Windy as all get out, too. The silvery backs of leaves are showing themselves, which means we're in for rain. It can come none too soon. I'm roasting.
Labels: art, books, dave matthews band, dmb, edgar allan poe, fans, genealogy of creative work, inspiration, minnesota, music, rain, someone working on dmb book, stumbleupon, the raven, weather
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Hard-Boiled Eggs
Young Son Number Two went to work with me today. He and a couple of his friends have been taking the exhibit building class the museum is offering and they're having such a blast that he and one of his buddies wanted to come back today to examine books in our library. For lunch, Young Son and I had hard-boiled eggs. I noticed that Young Son wasn't eating the yolks and I asked why. He said it's because the yolks are too dry and it's hard to breathe when eating them. Got it. That's exactly how I feel when eating the yolks. I told them they go down easier if eaten in little bites with some salt. He tried the technique and got through the yolks with nary a problem.
How many things in life are like hard-boiled eggs?
How many things in life are like hard-boiled eggs?
Labels: books, class, hard boiled eggs, library, museum, yolks, young son
Friday, June 08, 2007
Drawing & Such
I took another vacation day today, which resulted in the day feeling like Saturday instead of Friday. Daughter, husband and I went shopping. Daughter is joining cross-country and wanted a pair of running shoes. I took my sewing machine in to be repaired. The zig-zag stitch mechanism isn't working. The machine has seen fairly light use since I bought it back in 1995. My husband can't believe I still have the receipt.
This evening, husband and I took Young Son Number Two out for a walk. Pleasant time for it - breezy, but not cold, sunny, not too many bugs.
Last night (I seem to be backing up in time here), I finished a fiber arts piece that I'm thinking of using for the collection of short stories I'm writing. Let's be honest, I'm really working on a book, but if I think of it as a collection of short stories, it seems more manageable. Now that I'm well on my way toward finishing story #8, I have to think about the format the book will take, which includes the cover. That's what the fiber piece is about. My first love, as far as interests go, is art. I've been drawing and doing some sort of fiber art since I was a kid. Now that I'm coming to book layout and design, my fingers will be all over that as well as the writing.
If I haven't created a piece of art in a while, I tend to forget how much I like the process. This morning I was talking to Eldest Son and spotted a library book on the floor near his bed (the best place for library books, in my opinion). I asked if I could look at it and got the go ahead from Eldest Son. The book is called "Keys to Drawing with Imagination" by Bert Dodson. What a fabulous book. Even if you're not an artist, it's fun to look through with its acres of whimsical drawings. Should you choose to delve in, Dodson starts you out with a chapter called "Doodling and Noodling," which is a no-stress way to get drawing. And I mean no-stress. Trust me on this. I've taken many a college art class in my day and haven't seen the "Take a Line on a Walk" exercise before. I'm just itching to get out my pencils and good paper.
Addendum (just a wee bit later, same day): Here is the link to Bert Dodson's real-deal website. The one above is for his book on Amazon.
This evening, husband and I took Young Son Number Two out for a walk. Pleasant time for it - breezy, but not cold, sunny, not too many bugs.
Last night (I seem to be backing up in time here), I finished a fiber arts piece that I'm thinking of using for the collection of short stories I'm writing. Let's be honest, I'm really working on a book, but if I think of it as a collection of short stories, it seems more manageable. Now that I'm well on my way toward finishing story #8, I have to think about the format the book will take, which includes the cover. That's what the fiber piece is about. My first love, as far as interests go, is art. I've been drawing and doing some sort of fiber art since I was a kid. Now that I'm coming to book layout and design, my fingers will be all over that as well as the writing.
If I haven't created a piece of art in a while, I tend to forget how much I like the process. This morning I was talking to Eldest Son and spotted a library book on the floor near his bed (the best place for library books, in my opinion). I asked if I could look at it and got the go ahead from Eldest Son. The book is called "Keys to Drawing with Imagination" by Bert Dodson. What a fabulous book. Even if you're not an artist, it's fun to look through with its acres of whimsical drawings. Should you choose to delve in, Dodson starts you out with a chapter called "Doodling and Noodling," which is a no-stress way to get drawing. And I mean no-stress. Trust me on this. I've taken many a college art class in my day and haven't seen the "Take a Line on a Walk" exercise before. I'm just itching to get out my pencils and good paper.
Addendum (just a wee bit later, same day): Here is the link to Bert Dodson's real-deal website. The one above is for his book on Amazon.
Labels: album art, bert dodson, books, daughter, drawing, family, husband, minnesota, sewing machine busticated, shopping, short story, sons, vacation, weather, writing
Sunday, June 03, 2007
The Messenger of Magnolia Street
I can't contain myself. This morning I finished reading one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. The beauty comes from the arrangement of the words, the use of the English language in a glorious way. The book is called "The Messenger of Magnolia Street" by River Jordan (isn't her name poetic?). The novel follows three main characters, Nehemiah, Billy and Trice, childhood playmates, now adults, who are charged with saving the town of Shibboleth from a misty, mysterious wasting away spawned by pure evil. From the very opening of the book, I found myself wanting to reread paragraphs just to savor the writing. I'd reread to figure out how River did it, how she captured me and held me, not just in the thrall of the story, but in awe of her sentence construction and word usage. You could take a pile of words and hand them off to various writers, but very few would be able to accomplish what River has with this story. There's a moseying to the story, even in the build up to the scary parts. While the scary parts clip faster, there's still time for rolling over sentences in the mind, repeating them for full effect.
When I started the novel, it reminded me of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." Upon researching River Jordan, I found that her writing has been compared to Harper Lee's.
I'm going to be taking this book to my writers group in a week and reading passages to everyone for inspiration. Fabulous book.
When I started the novel, it reminded me of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." Upon researching River Jordan, I found that her writing has been compared to Harper Lee's.
I'm going to be taking this book to my writers group in a week and reading passages to everyone for inspiration. Fabulous book.
Labels: books, harper lee, river jordan, shibboleth, the messenger of magnolia street, writers, writing
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Futurist
Over lunch today, I finished reading a novel called "The Futurist" by James P. Othmer. I very much enjoyed the cynicism Othmer used to portray his main character Yates - no first name, just Yates. Yates is a futurist, one of those trendy trendspotters who are all the rage right now. A cheerleader for the corporate world, showing businesses how to get people to spend money by tapping into our deepest desires. Only the cynicism and the crassness of this work finally gets to Yates and he muddles through a crisis that becomes a mystery. Othmer does an excellent job of keeping to his theme - right down to the final words of the book. His theme is the future, and specifically, telling the future. Nostradamus plays a part. According to Othmer's bio on his website, he used to work at an advertising agency. This, of course, begs the questions, "Did he turn into Yates while working there? Is "The Futurist" somewhat autobiographical?" In a larger sense, the book has me wondering whether we put too much stock in futurists in general, in their findings about trends, in their boxing us up and labeling us with catchy names. It's certainly going to make me look askance at what futurists do in the future.
Labels: advertising, books, future, futurist, james othmer, nostradamus, reading, trends
Monday, May 07, 2007
Books That Make You Mad
Ever read a book that makes you mad? I've recently read two that have raised my ire, but for different reasons.
The first was "Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything" by Don Tapscott and Anthony D. Williams. In the interest of full disclosure, I did not finish reading this book because it made me so mad. First, I slogged through the intro, which seemed to be a repetition of stuff I'd already read elsewhere, i.e. the Internet is making us collaborate more; everyone needs to become more transparent, blah, blah, blah. To be fair, I figured that the book had to start somewhere and had to assume that many readers would be new to its ideas, so I kept going. After the authors launched into how great the current generation is, how so much more creative it is than previous generations, I put the book down. This notion of comparing generations and how great one is in relation to another boils my blood. I wanted to scream, "Who do you think invented the internet and everything that led up to it? Don't you think that was just as creative as what the current generation is doing with new tech tools?" Honestly, I simply can't abide by these judgemental attitudes. It's why I can't stand the term "Greatest Generation" in reference to Depression/WWII folks, or the term "slackers" in reference to Gen-Xers. I don't mind an analysis of generations based upon shared experiences, or short-hand, non-judgemental names, such as Boomers or Millennials, just don't slay entire generations with negative assessments. If anyone has read this book and had a different opinion, please share. Maybe I'll give it another shot.
The second book that made me mad was Nicholson Baker's "Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper." Working in a museum as I do, I have an incredible fondness for bound volumes of our local newspapers. Leafing through these books, which date back to 1892, is pure joy. Baker's book shows how, with the Library of Congress at the helm, libraries have wholesale ditched their collections of bound volumes of newspapers in favor of microfilming. (Round two is here with the current push toward digitization.) In order to easily microfilm these newspapers, the bindings have to be removed. Libraries, including the Library of Congress (LOC), submitted entire runs of our nation's newspapers to this disbinding. Once this was done, the libraries, finding space ever at a premium, decided to sell or destroy the disbound newspapers, rather than box and store the originals. The Library of Congress has even done this with books. All of this should make us furious. The Library of Congress is supposed to be saving the nation's history, not gutting it for the latest fad in reproduction. Their claim has always been that microfilm is a suitable substitute for newspapers that are crumbling to dust. It is not, for numerous reasons laid out in Baker's book, and the vast majority of newspapers are not crumbling to dust. Trust me, I know. I can still use the 1892 newspaper. It's a bit more delicate than later editions, but still very readable and hardly crumbling to dust or anything else.
The Library of Congress has a requirement that authors must submit a hardcopy of their books when they register for copyright. If the LOC is merely going to slice and film, I'd be tempted as an author to send them a little note with my registration, saying that I'm not going to waste money on giving them a hardcopy being as how they don't want it anyway, and offer to provide a digital copy.
Baker's book is excellent in that it makes me mad in an appropriate, how-can-I-change-the-system way. It goes into all sorts of details about the construction of paper (Did you know that mummy wrappings were used at one time in U.S. paper production?), the chemistry of paper, the political and financial maneuverings of certain high-level LOC officials, and raises questions about what we deem important enough to save. Obviously, I highly recommend this book. It will make you mad and it should.
The first was "Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything" by Don Tapscott and Anthony D. Williams. In the interest of full disclosure, I did not finish reading this book because it made me so mad. First, I slogged through the intro, which seemed to be a repetition of stuff I'd already read elsewhere, i.e. the Internet is making us collaborate more; everyone needs to become more transparent, blah, blah, blah. To be fair, I figured that the book had to start somewhere and had to assume that many readers would be new to its ideas, so I kept going. After the authors launched into how great the current generation is, how so much more creative it is than previous generations, I put the book down. This notion of comparing generations and how great one is in relation to another boils my blood. I wanted to scream, "Who do you think invented the internet and everything that led up to it? Don't you think that was just as creative as what the current generation is doing with new tech tools?" Honestly, I simply can't abide by these judgemental attitudes. It's why I can't stand the term "Greatest Generation" in reference to Depression/WWII folks, or the term "slackers" in reference to Gen-Xers. I don't mind an analysis of generations based upon shared experiences, or short-hand, non-judgemental names, such as Boomers or Millennials, just don't slay entire generations with negative assessments. If anyone has read this book and had a different opinion, please share. Maybe I'll give it another shot.
The second book that made me mad was Nicholson Baker's "Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper." Working in a museum as I do, I have an incredible fondness for bound volumes of our local newspapers. Leafing through these books, which date back to 1892, is pure joy. Baker's book shows how, with the Library of Congress at the helm, libraries have wholesale ditched their collections of bound volumes of newspapers in favor of microfilming. (Round two is here with the current push toward digitization.) In order to easily microfilm these newspapers, the bindings have to be removed. Libraries, including the Library of Congress (LOC), submitted entire runs of our nation's newspapers to this disbinding. Once this was done, the libraries, finding space ever at a premium, decided to sell or destroy the disbound newspapers, rather than box and store the originals. The Library of Congress has even done this with books. All of this should make us furious. The Library of Congress is supposed to be saving the nation's history, not gutting it for the latest fad in reproduction. Their claim has always been that microfilm is a suitable substitute for newspapers that are crumbling to dust. It is not, for numerous reasons laid out in Baker's book, and the vast majority of newspapers are not crumbling to dust. Trust me, I know. I can still use the 1892 newspaper. It's a bit more delicate than later editions, but still very readable and hardly crumbling to dust or anything else.
The Library of Congress has a requirement that authors must submit a hardcopy of their books when they register for copyright. If the LOC is merely going to slice and film, I'd be tempted as an author to send them a little note with my registration, saying that I'm not going to waste money on giving them a hardcopy being as how they don't want it anyway, and offer to provide a digital copy.
Baker's book is excellent in that it makes me mad in an appropriate, how-can-I-change-the-system way. It goes into all sorts of details about the construction of paper (Did you know that mummy wrappings were used at one time in U.S. paper production?), the chemistry of paper, the political and financial maneuverings of certain high-level LOC officials, and raises questions about what we deem important enough to save. Obviously, I highly recommend this book. It will make you mad and it should.
Labels: anger, authors, books, copyright, generations, internet, library of congress, newspaper, nicholson baker, paper, reading, wikinomics
Monday, April 23, 2007
Q & A
I just read a book with the most interesting plot. It's been said that there are no original stories left in the world, and while this may be true at it's root, I still think there are many original ways to tell a story. Indian author Vikas Swarup does just that in his book "Q & A." The premise of the novel, which does not give anything away, is that an orphaned Indian boy, 18 years old, goes on a quiz show called Who Will Win a Billion? and he wins a billion rupees. The day after winning, he is arrested because the show's producers claim that he cheated. This is where the novel starts. The rest of the chapters are structured so that Ram Mohammed Thomas, the main character, tells his life story based on each of the questions he is asked in the show. Of course, he is trying to show how he knew the answer to each question and prove that he didn't cheat. This was a fabulous way to tell the story and kept me guessing as to what the question would be from the story he told in each chapter. I rarely could tell. At the end, there were three twists that I didn't see coming. Now that's a story!
Here's an interview with Vikas Swarup by Channel NewsAsia.
Here's an interview with Vikas Swarup by Channel NewsAsia.
Labels: answer, books, india, novel, originality, question, vikas swarup, writers
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Favorite Nonfiction
Time for another book list. This time I'm covering nonfiction. I read waaaaay more nonfiction than fiction, and no matter what I read, a little of each book rubs off on me. These happened to rub off a lot. They are in no particular order.
Conversations with God, Book I - by Neale Donald Walsch - This book changed my worldview, especially the point God, speaking through Neale, makes about Hitler going to heaven.
Brand Hijack by Alex Wipperfurth - Consumers take over!
Spunk & Bite by Arthur Plotnick - Snappy little book about breaking writing rules.
On Writing Well by William Zinsser - Good, solid writing advice.
On Writing by Stephen King - Enjoyable, with excellent advice on how to deal with criticism.
The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell - I so want to prove the tipping point in some way.
Baby & Childcare by Dr. Benjamin Spock - Saved us from a screaming infant.
Yoga for Wimps by Miriam Austin - Easy yoga with a low time commitment. Made me limber.
The Long Tail by Chris Anderson - Liked the premise of this book, but now the term is used so much that I'm starting to get sick of it.
Beyond the Writers Workshop by Carol Bly - Made me not put as much stock in other people's opinions of my writing.
Anything by Brenda Ueland - She was a Minnesota writer who was full of moxie. One of the first women in her community to wear pants in public. She coined the term "moodling."
Anything by Seth Godin - Energetic, good ideas, tries to get businesses to be remarkable, instead of half-assed.
Prescription for Nutritional Healing by Phyllis A. Balch & James F. Balch - The Bible of healthcare options in our house.
Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen - Along with being straight-out fascinating, this helped me see how history is told through the voice of the victors.
The Dictionary and the Thesaurus - any will do - they are indispensible.
Okay, your turn. What are your favorite nonfiction books?
Conversations with God, Book I - by Neale Donald Walsch - This book changed my worldview, especially the point God, speaking through Neale, makes about Hitler going to heaven.
Brand Hijack by Alex Wipperfurth - Consumers take over!
Spunk & Bite by Arthur Plotnick - Snappy little book about breaking writing rules.
On Writing Well by William Zinsser - Good, solid writing advice.
On Writing by Stephen King - Enjoyable, with excellent advice on how to deal with criticism.
The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell - I so want to prove the tipping point in some way.
Baby & Childcare by Dr. Benjamin Spock - Saved us from a screaming infant.
Yoga for Wimps by Miriam Austin - Easy yoga with a low time commitment. Made me limber.
The Long Tail by Chris Anderson - Liked the premise of this book, but now the term is used so much that I'm starting to get sick of it.
Beyond the Writers Workshop by Carol Bly - Made me not put as much stock in other people's opinions of my writing.
Anything by Brenda Ueland - She was a Minnesota writer who was full of moxie. One of the first women in her community to wear pants in public. She coined the term "moodling."
Anything by Seth Godin - Energetic, good ideas, tries to get businesses to be remarkable, instead of half-assed.
Prescription for Nutritional Healing by Phyllis A. Balch & James F. Balch - The Bible of healthcare options in our house.
Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen - Along with being straight-out fascinating, this helped me see how history is told through the voice of the victors.
The Dictionary and the Thesaurus - any will do - they are indispensible.
Okay, your turn. What are your favorite nonfiction books?
Labels: books, chris anderson, dictionary, moodle, nonfiction, reading, seth godin, the long tail, the tipping point, writing
Saturday, April 07, 2007
More on Favorite Books
My post on favorite books, based on an MPR program, had two takers. Kim at Knit Whimsies and Joanne at Poppy Seed Heart both posted about their favorite literature. Kim did it with a twist, choosing to highlight her favorite authors. Joanne gave a nice summary of why each book was her favorite. This is a difficult little exercise. While my list is pretty firm - only two are ones that I could switch out for something else (My Lord Bag of Rice and Fahrenheit 451), the rest are definite - I have many other favorite writers. (Just figure that I pretty much enjoy all the other works of the writers on the first list.) I decided that my other favorite writers should get their due as well, so here goes:
Michael Crichton - The guy really knows how to tell a story, always with a scientific bent, which I really like.
Edgar Allan Poe - The original master of horror. My absolute favorite of his is the poem "The Raven." Nothing beats reading this aloud.
J.K. Rowling - Imaginative, able to write about a gazillion characters and somehow readers manage to keep them all straight. I've only read books 1-4, so I have some catching up to do.
Amulya Malladi - I have loved both of the books I've read of hers - "The Mango Season" and "Serving Crazy with Curry." I think perhaps I've been reincarnated from India. I have always had an affinity for the country. Maybe it's just because I read and loved Frances Hodgson Burnett's books as a kid ("The Secret Garden" and "A Little Princess").
Stephen King - For as prolific as this guy is, I've only read two of his books - "On Writing" and "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon." Both are fabulous. I shy away from his horror because I'm not a horror fan, except for Poe, of course.
Margaret Atwood - She's an excellent writer, and she's here for that reason. The endings of her stories are dark and leave me very unsettled, which is why they didn't make my very best list.
Kate DiCamillo - "Because of Winn Dixie" and "The Tale of Despereaux" are simply wonderful children's stories. They hooked me.
Growing up, I was a huge mystery reader. Agatha Christie, the Nancy Drew series, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Alfred Hitchcock's compilations of short stories were the thing. I'm a big fan of Dr. Seuss, but more so as an adult than I was as a kid. My all-time favorite children's book was a Little Golden Book called "The Saggy Baggy Elephant." One-two-three, kick! One-two-three, kick! He danced through the forest, and then someone made fun of him and he hid in a cave. Eventually, he is told by other elephants that he is beautiful and he is happy again.
This list and my previous one barely scratch the surface of all the reading I've done in my life. There's nothing in here that's nonfiction, for one. My other problem is that I've read many marvelous books over the years, but they don't stick with me. In order to keep track (which helped me with today's post), I've been recording the books I read in a small notebook since 2003. It's annotated, which jogs my memory. It also shows me that I've spent a lot of time reading. Yeah!
Michael Crichton - The guy really knows how to tell a story, always with a scientific bent, which I really like.
Edgar Allan Poe - The original master of horror. My absolute favorite of his is the poem "The Raven." Nothing beats reading this aloud.
J.K. Rowling - Imaginative, able to write about a gazillion characters and somehow readers manage to keep them all straight. I've only read books 1-4, so I have some catching up to do.
Amulya Malladi - I have loved both of the books I've read of hers - "The Mango Season" and "Serving Crazy with Curry." I think perhaps I've been reincarnated from India. I have always had an affinity for the country. Maybe it's just because I read and loved Frances Hodgson Burnett's books as a kid ("The Secret Garden" and "A Little Princess").
Stephen King - For as prolific as this guy is, I've only read two of his books - "On Writing" and "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon." Both are fabulous. I shy away from his horror because I'm not a horror fan, except for Poe, of course.
Margaret Atwood - She's an excellent writer, and she's here for that reason. The endings of her stories are dark and leave me very unsettled, which is why they didn't make my very best list.
Kate DiCamillo - "Because of Winn Dixie" and "The Tale of Despereaux" are simply wonderful children's stories. They hooked me.
Growing up, I was a huge mystery reader. Agatha Christie, the Nancy Drew series, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Alfred Hitchcock's compilations of short stories were the thing. I'm a big fan of Dr. Seuss, but more so as an adult than I was as a kid. My all-time favorite children's book was a Little Golden Book called "The Saggy Baggy Elephant." One-two-three, kick! One-two-three, kick! He danced through the forest, and then someone made fun of him and he hid in a cave. Eventually, he is told by other elephants that he is beautiful and he is happy again.
This list and my previous one barely scratch the surface of all the reading I've done in my life. There's nothing in here that's nonfiction, for one. My other problem is that I've read many marvelous books over the years, but they don't stick with me. In order to keep track (which helped me with today's post), I've been recording the books I read in a small notebook since 2003. It's annotated, which jogs my memory. It also shows me that I've spent a lot of time reading. Yeah!
Labels: authors, blog, books, children, fiction, knit whimsies, memory, mpr, nonfiction, poppy seed heart, reading, writers
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Favorite Books
This morning on MPR's Midmorning program, there was a discussion about who various writers would include in their top ten greatest literary works of all time. J. Peder Zane has compiled a book called "The Top Ten: Writers Pick Their Favorite Books." According to the conversation, when writers were approached to pick their top ten, they were first asked to define what made a great literary work. One of the guests said that a work was great to him if it was something he himself couldn't write, but wished to. That's a pretty good definition. Someone else said that a great book was one that really struck you at exactly the right time in your life, something formative. I'd also say unforgettable, or something that makes you think in ways you hadn't before. Of course, when listening to such a discussion, the mind wanders to what you might pick for your top ten. And you know very well that I'm going to have to share my top ten. Most of these books came immediately to mind, a couple I had to really think about. These are not in any particular order.
Shop Girl by Steve Martin
My Lord Bag of Rice by Carol Bly
Anne of Green Gables (the first in the series) by L. M. Montgomery
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Lamb by Christopher Moore
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Charley by Joan Robinson
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
That's my top ten, and most of them will remain on my list for a long time because I read a bunch of them when I was a kid and they've stuck with me all this time. So, what books would you include in your top ten?
Shop Girl by Steve Martin
My Lord Bag of Rice by Carol Bly
Anne of Green Gables (the first in the series) by L. M. Montgomery
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Lamb by Christopher Moore
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Charley by Joan Robinson
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
That's my top ten, and most of them will remain on my list for a long time because I read a bunch of them when I was a kid and they've stuck with me all this time. So, what books would you include in your top ten?
Labels: books, christopher moore, mpr, neil gaiman, steve martin, top ten, writers
Friday, March 30, 2007
Fame Junkies
I finished reading a book by Jake Halpern called Fame Junkies. The book discusses the psychological underpinnings of why we are so attracted to celebrities. Jake researched ideas about para-social relationships (relationships held from afar) as well as looking at how primates behave in hierarchies. Turns out that male monkeys (rhesus macaques) are more interested in watching dominant males and the back sides of female monkeys than in looking at non-dominant males and the front sides of females. What does THAT say about the men in our species and their tendency to focus on the physical attributes of women? Should we bother worrying about what our butts look like? As for watching the dominant male monkeys, those who could keep track of the Big Cahuna could get in his good graces, thus ensuring survival - or they could avoid his bad moods, thus ensuring survival. Here we are, all a bunch of monkeys, acting out some biological imperative with celebrity worship. Only Jake indicates that our fascination with celebrities has gotten much worse, more out of hand. I was especially saddened by the chapter devoted to young people who attend talent schools in hopes of becoming famous. What a treadmill.
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
Labels: books, creative, fame, fame junkies, jake halpern, manifesto, monkeys, reading, squidoo
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Lovely Sentiments
I'm still making my way through Julia Cameron's "Letters to a Young Artist." I ran across a couple of lovely sentiments while reading last night.
From page 107: "It's a gread deal like the question of love. Either we can worry about being loved "enough" or we can focus on being more loving. Only one of those choices will make us happy."
From page 113: "I do believe that we encounter the consciousness of an artist through his or her work. Sometimes some of my liveliest relationships are with people whom I may never meet at all except on the page."
The first is self-explanatory. The second makes me wonder if this is why we become so enamored with famous people. Their work precedes them and we get this lovely snippet of the best of them - the nugget of gold inside upon which we build our ideas of them. If / when we meet these famous people or continue to watch their antics through the media, our ideas of them evaporate because we eventually discover their human qualities. The gold is still there, but it's been sullied. Meeting them on the page, or through a song, or in a movie and building our ideas of them through the prism of our hearts and minds creates the ideal relationship, one that cannot be fulfilled in real life, unless our imaginations are willing to accept their humanity.
From page 107: "It's a gread deal like the question of love. Either we can worry about being loved "enough" or we can focus on being more loving. Only one of those choices will make us happy."
From page 113: "I do believe that we encounter the consciousness of an artist through his or her work. Sometimes some of my liveliest relationships are with people whom I may never meet at all except on the page."
The first is self-explanatory. The second makes me wonder if this is why we become so enamored with famous people. Their work precedes them and we get this lovely snippet of the best of them - the nugget of gold inside upon which we build our ideas of them. If / when we meet these famous people or continue to watch their antics through the media, our ideas of them evaporate because we eventually discover their human qualities. The gold is still there, but it's been sullied. Meeting them on the page, or through a song, or in a movie and building our ideas of them through the prism of our hearts and minds creates the ideal relationship, one that cannot be fulfilled in real life, unless our imaginations are willing to accept their humanity.
Labels: artist, books, fame, humanity, idea, julia cameron, love, reading
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Letters to a Young Artist
I was at the library the other day and replenished my reading supply. The book I'm reading now is Julia Cameron's Letters to a Young Artist: Building a Life in Art. Ever since Rainer Maria Rilke wrote his Letters to a Young Poet, there's been an explosion of Letters to a Young So-and-So (insert what you like to replace So-and-So). Letters to a Young Lawyer, Letters to a Young Catholic, Letters to a Young Mathematician, Letters to a Young Contrarian. Google "Letters to a Young" and you'll see what I mean. In fact, there's even another Letters to a Young Artist, this one written by Anna Deavere Smith.
I've never read Letters to a Young Poet as I've never considered myself a poet. I attempted Letters to a Young Contrarian by Christopher Hitchens, as I am something of a contrarian (Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary), but can't recall whether I got through it. I am flying through Letters to a Young Artist, however. Julia's writing is a breeze, so conversational and easy. If you've read her book The Artist's Way, the information she imparts in Letters to a Young Artist will be familiar, however the change in format is a pleasure. (Not that there was anything wrong with The Artist's Way - I loved the book . . . it sits on my shelf . . . but the difference between the two books might make them appealing to different audiences.) It's definitely inspirational and worth a read if you've reached a creative slump.
I've never read Letters to a Young Poet as I've never considered myself a poet. I attempted Letters to a Young Contrarian by Christopher Hitchens, as I am something of a contrarian (Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary), but can't recall whether I got through it. I am flying through Letters to a Young Artist, however. Julia's writing is a breeze, so conversational and easy. If you've read her book The Artist's Way, the information she imparts in Letters to a Young Artist will be familiar, however the change in format is a pleasure. (Not that there was anything wrong with The Artist's Way - I loved the book . . . it sits on my shelf . . . but the difference between the two books might make them appealing to different audiences.) It's definitely inspirational and worth a read if you've reached a creative slump.
Labels: anna deavere smith, artist, books, christopher hitchens, contrary, creativity, julia cameron, library, poet, rainer maria rilke, reading
Saturday, March 03, 2007
User I.D.
I've finished reading the book "User I.D." by Jenefer Shute. The plot revolves around identity theft. The author alternates chapters between Vera, who has had her identity stolen, and Charlene, the identity thief. There are lots of great details about identity theft and how to deal with it woven throughout the story. Jenefer Shute also covers the existential angst felt by both women in relation to the fluidity of identity in the digital age. She makes Charlene a sympathetic character, despite her illegal activities. I wish she had bolstered Vera's character more. By the end of the book, I felt like slapping Vera for her whiny, limp-wristed attitude. There was one other thing about the book that set me on edge. Periodically, it seemed that the author played a bit heavy with the description. It wasn't enough to make me stop reading, but it subtly hit me that some of the details were overdone. Because I picked up on this, I wondered if I do the same thing in my fiction writing. I'll have to check to be sure. Precision excision is the solution.
Labels: books, editing, identity, identity theft, jenefer shute, story, technology
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The Scientologist and the Stop Light
It's been an interesting day on the thickening thought forms front. Let me 'xplain.
This morning, my husband told me about a newspaper article he saw posted at college. It talked about a Scientologist who believed she could change stop lights at will because of her religious beliefs.
It gets better.
I caught most of Oprah today, missing just the first fifteen minutes, or so. She had on several guests who were teachers of "The Secret." "The Secret," apparently, is a collection of ideas presented in movie and book form on how to fully realize the dreams and goals of your life. There were three steps to "The Secret." 1. Ask. But only ask the universe (God, whatever) for what you want once. 2. Believe. If you ask more than once, you don't believe your desire will come to you. (Your waffling also confuses the universe, so throw your entire belief into it.) 3. Receive.
The speakers on Oprah talked about how to look at stuck situations in your life from a different perspective and that will change everything. Specifically, they suggested that we own up to our part in creating the sticky situation, to ask the situation what it has to teach us, to let go of whatever is holding us back, and to have gratitude for the good things we have. I've seen this idea of concentrating on the good things in life before, most notably in the Conversations with God books by Neale Donald Walsch. What you focus on gets bigger, so if you focus on lack, you will lack more. If you focus on abundance, you will get abundance.
The idea of asking the universe to grant your wishes and then believing that what you wish for is coming your way (albeit, you aren't going to know exactly how your wish will be granted), was presented to me in a book on dreams many years ago. Unfortunately, I don't remember the name of the book, but I was so taken by a particular chapter that I copied it at the time. I recently ran across this chapter, called "The Theory of Thickening Thought Forms," and reread it. The universe rushes to assist intention and action, therefore, you're supposed to get very clear about what you want, state that intention, believe that it's coming to you and let it happen.
So, can a Scientologist really change a stop light? Perhaps . . . .
I can tell you that when I behave as though I'll get my heart's desire, it has happened, but never quite in the way I've imagined it.
This morning, my husband told me about a newspaper article he saw posted at college. It talked about a Scientologist who believed she could change stop lights at will because of her religious beliefs.
It gets better.
I caught most of Oprah today, missing just the first fifteen minutes, or so. She had on several guests who were teachers of "The Secret." "The Secret," apparently, is a collection of ideas presented in movie and book form on how to fully realize the dreams and goals of your life. There were three steps to "The Secret." 1. Ask. But only ask the universe (God, whatever) for what you want once. 2. Believe. If you ask more than once, you don't believe your desire will come to you. (Your waffling also confuses the universe, so throw your entire belief into it.) 3. Receive.
The speakers on Oprah talked about how to look at stuck situations in your life from a different perspective and that will change everything. Specifically, they suggested that we own up to our part in creating the sticky situation, to ask the situation what it has to teach us, to let go of whatever is holding us back, and to have gratitude for the good things we have. I've seen this idea of concentrating on the good things in life before, most notably in the Conversations with God books by Neale Donald Walsch. What you focus on gets bigger, so if you focus on lack, you will lack more. If you focus on abundance, you will get abundance.
The idea of asking the universe to grant your wishes and then believing that what you wish for is coming your way (albeit, you aren't going to know exactly how your wish will be granted), was presented to me in a book on dreams many years ago. Unfortunately, I don't remember the name of the book, but I was so taken by a particular chapter that I copied it at the time. I recently ran across this chapter, called "The Theory of Thickening Thought Forms," and reread it. The universe rushes to assist intention and action, therefore, you're supposed to get very clear about what you want, state that intention, believe that it's coming to you and let it happen.
So, can a Scientologist really change a stop light? Perhaps . . . .
I can tell you that when I behave as though I'll get my heart's desire, it has happened, but never quite in the way I've imagined it.
Labels: belief, books, conversations with god, neale donald walsch, oprah, scientologist, the secret, thickening thought forms
Saturday, February 03, 2007
No Hands Clapping
I'm about half-way through Toby Young's book The Sound of No Hands Clapping. This is Young's follow-up to the book How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, which I have not yet read. The book is a fast read, which I like. It means he's quick about getting to the point and the language is understandable. Contrast this to Henry David Thoreau, whose work my husband is required to read for college. Thoreau is so stinkin' wordy and convoluted that my husband forgets the point Thoreau was trying to make by the time he gets to the end of a sentence. I've had the same trouble with Thoreau, so, snaps to Young for saying things clearly. The Sound of No Hands Clapping is filled with Young's self-defacating humor. The man has an unerring sense of the inappropriate in so many life situations, that I'm rather hoping he's exaggerating, but fear that he's not. He talks about the underbelly of both the publishing business and the
Labels: books, humor, husband, reading, thoreau, toby young
