East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Been a while since my last post. I've read more than one book since then, but I wanted to take the time to write about Steinbeck's "East of Eden", because our book club just finished reading it. Well, I finished it last month, but I was the last one. It's been a busy semester, ok?

In case you're not familiar with this book, the story, in short, is that of Adam Trask, and East Coast migrant who settled in the Salinas Valley in California. This is Steinbeck's home, and he even set himself in the story as a relative to a character who was Adam's friend. Adam settles there with the girl of his dreams who happens to be some kind of sociopath. They have twin boys, and then other events ensue. By the way, Mildred tells me the movie mostly deals with the sons when they're older teens, but the boys don't reach that age in the book until the last 100 pages or so.

Actually, this book is too big to really talk about properly without writing a small book about it, so I'm going to cut it down to a couple of things that really interested me. One was that in this book, more than in any other I've ever read, the author explicitly stated what he was thinking and talking about in his book. The mechanism for this was several dialogues that took place between Adam, his Chinese servant Lee, and his friend and neighbor, Samuel Hamilton. The theme of the book, in my own words, is basically that a person can choose to do good or bad. No one is predestined to be good or bad, nor are they bound to the mistakes of the past. This theme was explicitly discussed among Sam, Lee and Adam at several points.

Mildred felt that this was a rather clumsy device and she would have preferred him to use more oblique methods of making readers aware of his intentions. It didn't bother me so much, but I can see that some readers might not like his device of explicitly stating his theme, then using his story to provide examples proving the truth of it.

After some discussion, Mildred and I weren't sure that Steinbeck ever did prove his point. Just about all of his characters fell to temptation, and he demonstrated that Aron, perfect though he was, simply couldn't live knowing that he came from something so evil (Cathy). Speaking of Cathy, nobody I talked to about the book really understood her, or rather why she was the way she was. Yes, she lacked some essential human component. What it was, I'm not sure, nor why. I didn't like that so many of his characters were so sketchy, especially the women. Again, Cathy was very poorly explained for being such a bad person, but the other women, although often portrayed as very good, simply were taken for granted. Steinbeck must have felt that it was unnecessary to explain the women as either good or bad, so he spent more time on the men.

But to get back to my earlier point: Steinbeck never demonstrated the principle of timshel (thou mayest) with any of his characters. Perhaps Caleb went off to lead a stellar life after the book, but during the book all the characters made the mistakes that you'd expect them to make. I don't say that this was necessarily deliberate on the part of Steinbeck. Mildred and I think that it was actually rather unintentional, and that while he was trying to write the story to prove his point, he wrote the characters the way he truly saw people. Not without love, but with a sure knowledge of their fallibility. He expected them to disappoint, and disappoint they did. But I suppose he ended it appropriately enough anyway; when Caleb begged for his father's forgiveness, Adam merely said "timshel", meaning that Caleb could live with or without it just as well. At least, that's what I thought. Perhaps Steinbeck truly meant something different.

With a title like "East of Eden", one does expect biblical parallels. Obviously this story was a sort of modern retelling of Cain and Abel, with Caleb and Aron filling those roles, respectively. Steinbeck basically says as much throughout the book, but he doesn't make other biblical parallels as explicit. For example, the Salinas Valley must have been the Eden of this story. Adam and Cathy were, to some extent, Adam and Eve, although while Adam Trask was as ignorant as the original Adam, Cathy was the snake in the garden, not the woman tempted. The parallels aren't exact, obviously. Adam and his brother Charles might have been Cain and Abel, too, except Charles never took the opportunity to slay his brother. Of course, in Adam's role as Adam, that made his father god and if you recall Adam's father, it must be that Steinbeck wasn't a big fan of god. Or perhaps that's extrapolating too much.

In any case, I felt like one of the purposes of the story was simply to demonstrate the inherent truth of the Cain and Abel story. Not the standard interpretation one tends to get in church, that Abel was the good son who sacrificed properly, but rather that Cain was unjustly punished simply because God preferred Abel's sacrifice to his, and for no good reason. Abel was simply more lovable, but no better. Rather heretical too, so I'm wondering if any churches ever sponsored a book burning for East of Eden. All throughout, Adam was better loved than Charles simply because he was more lovable, and Aron was better loved than Caleb for the same reason. And after much discussion, Mildred and I did agree that there is some validity to this interpretation. It does indeed occur in reality, although perhaps not so often as Steinbeck might have made it appear.

Finally, I have to say that of all the Steinbeck I've read (which I admit is only a couple of other books), this is my favorite by far. I liked the writing and I liked the story. The characters weren't always believable, but even so, they were good characters. I do recommend it, although this is certainly a book you really have to put some time into. If you do though, it'll be worth it.

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

McCarthy, in case you don't know him, is probably most famous for his "Border" trilogy, one of which, All the Pretty Horses, was made into a movie recently. He's been writing for around forty years though, so he's no newcomer. He also released a book called The Road just a few months ago, which is a sort of post-apocalyptic work, although in no way like the Left Behind series.

You might read this book and be deeply touched by McCarthy's astounding prose. You might read this book and put it down three-quarters of the way through because of the almost pointless story. Either way, I would say you're right. The caveat is that this book is not about the story. It's about the meaning of the story.

The story is basically that a drug deal goes bad, a young Vietnam vet finds the money (the book is set in the early 80s), and he ends up going on the run from a psychopathic killer set on retrieving that money. A Texas sheriff follows both of them, trying to save Moss, the Vet, from Chigur, the killer. The story is told from the point of view of Moss and the Sheriff mostly, although at the end the narrative does follow the killer as well.

I enjoyed the writing. It's especially good if you listen to the audiobook, where the reader enacts appropriate accents (Texas accents), or if you can make the characters sound like that in your head. It makes more sense that way. McCarthy almost matches the dryness of Steinbeck's The Red Pony in the dustiness of his prose, and it worked well.

The problem, for me, was that this book was organized as a straightforward chase/thriller...until the chase ended and there was still a quarter of the book left. That wasn't the only problem. You would expect that when the killer catches up with the vet, that would be the climactic scene. And yet such scene is completely absent. The narrative skips right by it and you find out post-mortem from the sheriff. And then the book goes on anyway, not to tie up loose ends but mainly so that the sheriff can talk a lot about his thoughts. Not that hearing from the sheriff was bad; he did have a lot to offer. But McCarthy really shouldn't have written all that chase stuff if it was going to be so pointless, which it was. Heck, he adds in a character in the middle of the story only to have him killed off a couple of chapters later. Why? I have no clue. He served no purpose whatsoever.

If this was going to be some retrospective by the sheriff, it should have been that; not a chase set in real-time. It would even have made more sense that way, and it would certainly have been worth it if he could have taken that story and made some coherent point out of it.

The sheriff, I think, is a the method by which McCarthy can explicitly expound on the theme of the book without stepping in as a godlike narrator, which would have been unberably cheesy. However, I just don't think McCarthy used him to best advantage, and the book left me wondering what the point was in reading it.

If you're a McCarthy fan, by all means read it. The reviewers on Amazon seem to have enjoyed it much more than I did. Otherwise, you can really live without it.

The Great Transformation by Karen Armstrong

Karen Armstrong is a former nun who renounced her vows and is now a prolific writer on the subject of religion. Some of her other works include A History of God and Islam: A Short History. Her work always display an incredible breadth of knowledge as well as very insightful analysis. While this results in books well worth reading, it often makes those same books difficult to read because of the sheer volume of information she puts into them. Her latest book, The Great Transformation, has both of those characteristics as well.

The title of "The Great Transformation: The Beginning of Our Religious Traditions" is, in short, what this book is about. To those who believe in a the literal truth of the creation story (whatever the religion), the answer to that is obvious, of course. However, in actual fact the great religions of the world, including those of the so-called Judeo-Christian tradition as well as Buddhism and Hinduism, are really artifacts of ancient human make. However, they did not arise out of a religious vacuum, nor did they arise quickly. The questions this book seeks to answer are, what conditions did those religions arise out of and why did they arise?

Armstrong seeks to answer these questions in a chronological format, giving the history of the era (thus answering the first question) as she builds to an answer for the second. She covers the time, roughly, between 900 BC and 200 AD (although she chooses to use the contemptible CE terminology). The history of the era is one of great violence and turmoil. Peoples were on the move, and empires rose and fell, shattering the idea of permanence. To people who had belonged to state-centric religions, where the religion reflected and supported the "natural" order of kings, priests, and people, when the empire fell the religion was no longer valid. Without religion, they had nothing to affirm their existence, and needed a substitute. Animists, of course, wouldn't be troubled by this, but even most animist traditions relied on the idea of permanence.

Armstrong chooses to focus on four spiritual centers: Greece (more specifically Athens), Palestine (the land, not the country, obviously), India and China. While this seems simple enough, the picture is actually rather complex. Naturally, one may wonder what great religious tradition arose out of Greece. The answer is none. Their answer to the problems of the Axial Age was not religious in nature, although it was at times also spiritual and philosophical. The religions or spiritual traditions that did arise are quite numerous, more than the easily remembered Judaism, Buddhism or Confucianism. All were attempts to face the uncertainties of the world, and all attempted to find a way to live at peace with an un-peaceful world.

The bulk of the book details the developments of these religions in parallel with events in history. I felt that she made quite adequate arguments demonstrating how and why these developments were responding to outside events. That's one of the best reasons I could give for suggesting this book to readers. To my knowledge there is no other book that covers that territory for more than one religion, and it's quite enlightening to see them developing in parallel. It gives one a much more solid grasp to be able to place history in context than as an isolated incident.

The title might lead one to think that this book talks about the early days of each of these great religions. That's the last thing that she gets around to, and takes up the least time. I suppose many people don't know that religions don't just pop out fully formed, like Athena from Zeus' head. The religion of the Hebrews in the Bible (or Torah) was nothing like the rabbinic Judaism of today. Armstrong takes much more time explaining to us the Judaism of the prophets than in describing rabbinic Judaism (presumably because the reader is either more familiar with it already or there are many worthy books about precisely that). Her concern is mainly the gradual mutation that ends in these final religions or philosophies, and she stops basically where they have become at least the rudimentary version of their final forms.

All in all I think the book is well worth reading. Although she makes an attempt to draw a conclusion at the end that the stale religions that focus on doctrine rather than understanding and which assert that only their knowledge is the correct knowledge are useless and detrimental, she really doesn't spend too much time on that theme either, although it is certainly a worthy and interesting assertion. And yet of a four-hundred page book, the conclusion is only ten pages long. Perhaps she's saving that for yet another book.

All in all, I say read this book. It's challenging, to be sure, but in the end quite rewarding as well.

Terrorist by John Updike

Terrorist is the story of a teenage boy in New Jersey who is enlisted into a plot to carry out a devastating attack on America. Ahmad Mulloy Ashmawy is the son of an Arab father (who abandoned them) and American mother (of Irish descent). He grows up devoutly religious, not through any effort of his mother's but for some ambiguous reasons the auther fails to fully identify. All the other characters are essentially worthless to the plot, even the school guidance counselor, Jack Levy, who gets almost as much time as Ahmad.

Evidently a lot of people love this man's writing, but they must be loving something else because this book is about worthless. Forgetting the issue of PC-ness he broaches by having an Arab-American as the terrorist of the title, it's just not very likely. Other reviewers have said that he chose this character as his instrument to reflect on the state of America today, and his origin serves solely as a plot device to cause his disaffection with this society. But I think if that's the case, it's a weak and unnecessary device, given that there are plenty of Americans who are as disaffected and more prone to violence than some half-Arab New Jersey teenager. As a matter of fact, although it's a topic not often discussed, the main terrorist threat in America comes from white Christian extremists. These people aren't even theoretical; they've actually been responsible for real terrorist acts all over the United States.

Be that as it may, Updike is one of the least astute character writers I've ever read. If anyone reading this doesn't like that assessment, I suggest picking up Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment" or "The Brothers Karamazov". Now that's some character writing. I just felt like he endlessly described people's outsides and never touched their insides. It's a book, which means that you have the ability to show the reader the thoughts and feelings of a person, but not to adequately depict their facial expressions or colorations (in other words, it's not a picture). And yet he rarely took the opportunity to get inside anyone's mind, even the main character Ahmad's. And what little internal narration he did give Ahmad was pretty much the same thing over and over again. As for the other characters, he may have intended them to be mockeries of real people instead of making them real people, but if he was doing that I certainly didn't pick up any hints of satire to clue me in. The whole book was dead serious, and dead boring.

I tend to lump all books into two main categories: they're either about the characters or the plot. Given that the characters were such a failing in this book, you might be tempted to think the plot redeems it in some way. You would be wrong. The story itself advances slowly with about three-fourths of the book being wasted in unnecessary build-up (which would be fine if there were decent characters, but as it is...). The climax is so anti-climactic it actually made me sleepy. There's absolutely no payoff in the end.

If you're a fan of this guy, perhaps this book could work for you. For me, it was an unfortunate reading choice and a complete waste of time. If you want to read books about domestic terrorists that are just as implausible but a lot more exciting, pick up Tom Clancy.

Road Work by Mark Bowden

This is a sort of compendium of shorter works by Mark Bowden (journalist and author, most famous for Black Hawk Down) comprised of 19 stories on a variety of topics. As an example, he covers the issue of torture, a small bio of Saddam Hussein, the historic rivalry between two high school football teams, the genetic engineering of cattle, and even the story of the world's oldest living gorilla. There's something for everyone there.

I think Mark Bowden is a great journalist, because he writes the kind of in-depth stories that I like to read, and if you've read Black Hawk Down, you know he's a master at keeping personal bias out of it. Some of these stories are more personal though, and call for that kind of personal commentary, so you do get a different experience here than in a longer work like Black Hawk Down.

This is a good book if you want to read some non-fiction but don't want to commit to a 400 page book on one single topic. If you're the kind to get bored to tears by non-fiction but you still want to read it sometimes, this is the book for you. Not only are the stories short and entertaining, Bowden is a solid writer.

I suggest you pick this up at the library and give it a try. You may just find you want to read Black Hawk Down after all.

Iron Wok Jan by Shinji Saijyo

Jan is a young chef who has been trained in the art of Chinese cuisine by his grandfather. When the story opens, he has just been released from training and sent into the world of Chinese restauarants (in Japan) at the restaurant of his grandfathers's old friend, Gobancho. Jan doesn't inspire much friendliness in the staff because his motto is "Cooking is about winning", i.e., proving that he's better than all the other chefs in the world. He has major clashes with the owner's grand-daughter, Kiriko Gobancho, and the third young chef-in-training, Celine Yang. Neither of them appreciate his elitist attitude, nor his disdainful way of treating them.

I like this book mostly because it's funny. Although they go into great detail about a ton of different recipes and kinds of food and culinary secrets, that's not the main attraction. Jan is dead serious about cooking, and the book takes it seriously too. But I like when there's comic relief, especially when Okonogi comes up with yet another crazy dish, like spring rolls with appetizers stuffed inside.

I have to admit this isn't the best manga out there, and it's not something I'd usually read, but it's actually got a compelling story and the characters have just enough depth to make them worth reading.

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

Fight Club is one of my favorite books of all times and certainly is my favorite book by Chuck Palahniuk. In my opinion, it's much more enjoyable than most of his later works (although Choke and Lullaby were also good) because in this one, the gross-out factor of the material never went higher than the laugh factor. For example, in Fight Club, Tyler Durden has a penchant for using body fluids as ingredients for diners at fancy restaurants. It's nasty, but I don't eat clam chowder anyway. In contrast, in Haunted, a woman's newborn is turned into soup and in another scene a woman ends up eating part of her own ass. Actually there is no humor in those moments. It's just horrifying. So for me, Chuck has fallen off track a bit, but that's never dampened my enjoyment of Fight Club.

For those of you who have never read the book or seen the movie (and if you're in that category, what the hell is wrong with you?), it's really simple. An unnamed narrator has issues. He meets a guy on a flight and they end up staying at the same house. They form the fight club in question, which is what it sounds like: a club where men fight. Not boxing, just plain old streetfighting. The narrator's life starts to spiral out of control as Tyler goes on to plan bigger and better things (namely overturning society and instituting a new world order). It all comes to a head in the end. There's a woman in there as well: Marla, who I have to say is the best female love interest ever.

A lot of people have talked about this book as if it's either a crime against humanity or one of the most important works ever written. Of course, there are plenty who just don't care and then there are tons of fanboys who completely don't get what Chuck was trying to say but think they do. A lot of feminists have railed against it for its "misogynistic" tendencies, which shows that they missed the point. The book, in short, is about men who go wild precisely because they don't know how to be men. The narrator's initial rejection of Marla isn't misogyny, it's self-hatred (is that automisanthropy?). In the end, when he's figured himself out and overcome (or killed) his Durden-self, he can then reach out to her have the normal relationship. If Palahniuk was being misogynistic, he would have killed Marla and the narrator (or Joe, or Jack, or whatever you want to call him) would have become Tyler.

On the other hand, while I enjoy this book immensely because of Chuck Palahniuk's originality and freshness, I don't think this is the key book of the 90s. It might be the key book of the displaced male at the end of the century, and I certainly identified with it, but in the end it's best not to subject it to too much psychoanalytical scrutiny. It certainly has some Nietzchean overtones, but it doesn't quite fit the mold as well as Star Wars fits the Campbellian "Hero With a Thousand Faces" model.

In a lot of ways, it's just a teen book for grown-ups, especially men, about a guy who has completely lost his way but finds it in the end after a lot of misadventures. What makes the book great is not that the subject itself is so bold and new, but that Palahniuk simply wrote the best story about it that I've ever seen. I mean, if you want books about people finding their true selves that are also male-oriented, check out The Kite Runner or I Know This Much is True. I wouldn't say Fight Club is a better book than either of those, but it's certainly shorter and a better read most of the time. And it's funnier and has more action. I think Fight Club works because it's a book that says the same stuff, but it's less cerebral about it. Look at the title. Two words express the entire book, whereas you get nothing from the titles of the other two. In short, Fight Club is the non-thinking man's version of that kind of story. The fact that it has such an impact on so many men is kind of disturbing. I mean, if it moved these guys so much, surely The Kite Runner would have them weeping on their knees at the end!

Movie Adaptation

Now this is definitely one of my top five movies ever. It's got all the goodness of the book, but also the incredible visual direction of David Fincher. He completely understood where it was coming from, and this is one time where I thought the entire cast was just great. Edward Norton always does a great job as far as I'm concerned, but I'm not such a fan of Brad Pitt. And yet he was one of the highlights of this movie. Not only his acting, but they gave him such a great look as Tyler. And it was exactly how I thought Tyler might have looked. And Helena Bonham Carter as Marla. Just perfect. The score by the Dust Brothers was one of the few where I thought electronic music perfectly complemented the movie.

Somehow, Fincher managed to stay true to the book while keeping the movie flowing smoothly along. There really isn't any wasted time in the movie. If you have the dvd, take advantage of the commentary from Fincher, Norton, Pitt, and Carter. Unfortunately hers was recorded separately, but the guys are hilarious when they're talking about whatever they're seeing, plus which it's just a bonus for fans of the movie to hear about how certain shots and such were arrived at.

Edward Gorey

Edward Gorey was a writer/illustrator whose work is probably more well known than his name. You may recognize this image:



That's an illustration he did that was used in the introduction of the PBS "Mystery" series. I saw that a long time ago, but that was all I knew of him. Mildred is a big fan of his and has several of his books. They're rather interesting, but I think "gothic" is definitely the best way to describe them. He liked dark and random humor. Anyway, it's not my point to tell you all about him; that's something Mildred should do. I just want to say that there is a very interesting online store dedicated to him and his work and like-minded creators.

I like a lot of the things you can find on there, like this:



There are these really cool "haunted portraits" that change from one image to another. They are not those crappy holographs you see everywhere else. Check them out here. This is one example. It's really cool.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes (from the stories of Stephen King) on TNT

When you hear that any Stephen King story is being made into a tv movie, it's natural to think to yourself, "Oh god, how are they going to ruin it now?" And usually, you find that it's the same old combination of a low budget and bad director. However, if you've been watching this mini-series of one-hour episodes from the book of the same name, you know that strangely enough, they actually did a good job this time. If I'm not mistaken, every episode has had a different director and they've had different casts. And they've had a decent budget. I've been really impressed and I thought that all the episodes thus far were really good. I'd watch them again and I hope they come out with a dvd soon. So far, "The End of the Whole Mess" has been my favorite, but I think all of them have been good. Not only that, but the shows have been really faithful to the written stories. I still remember them, and a lot of the dramatic points in "The Road Virus Heads North" were recreated in the show.

Suffice it to say, I'm happy so far and that's a really strange occurence in general with King on tv. He has had some successes. I mean, the Dead Zone has been a real success, but a lot of the tv movies just sucked. "It" was passable, but "The Tommyknockers" was just ridiculously bad. I mean, it wasn't that great a book either, but still. And "The Langoliers", while having its moments disappointed me too. I can only hope that when someone decides to do The Gunslinger series, they make a commitment to doing it well. If that one goes bad, I'll have to hurt somebody.

Reefer Madness: Sex, Drugs, and Cheap Labor in the American Black Market by Eric Schlosser

This is another great book by Eric Schlosser (you may remember him from Fast Food Nation). As the title says, it's about the sex industry, illegal labor, and drugs (only marijuana though). It's a lot like FFN in that it's an expose of industries you don't really know that much about besides the hype and lies that their opponents publicize about them.

His first subject is the marijuana trade. Schlosser gives a long and detailed history of the use and abuse of marijuana in this country. Most people probably don't know that at one time it (like most other drugs) was legal, and even fairly commonly used. Schlosser talks about plenty more that most people probably don't know about, like the incredible harshness of laws against people who are convicted of growing or selling it, as well as the scientific debate over the true effects of marijuana on a person's health. What may come as a shock to many is that it is widely acknowledged by scientists (even government appointed panels) that marijuana is much less dangerous a drug than alcohol, with less harmful side-effects and no evidence of life-threatening conditions caused by abuse (liver failure for alcohol vs. possible chronic bronchitis for marijuana). Despite knowing this, certain lawmakers and prominent people continue to push for harsh regulation of the drug for their own political reasons. I'll spare you the details because if you want to know more, that's what this book is for.

The second section, and the shortest, is about illegal labor, and thus illegal aliens. This is a section that really has the emotional punch. There's no way you can not sympathize with the guys he talks about; the ones who are responsible for the profits of so many farmers (and a significant chunk of California's economy) who at the same time are treated as second-class humans, and while being exploited by their employers are punished by America's laws. One of the things you might learn from this book is that these migrant laborers are nothing new; they've provided most of the muscle for farmers in the West since those states have been part of the US. The only thing that's new is that we made them illegal. While a lot of politicians and pundits talk about these people competing with native-born Americans for low-wage jobs, the truth is that those low-wage farming jobs have never been a source of income for most Americans. The only time there were a lot of native migrant farm laborers was in the Dust Bowl era. And that phenomenon ended when the that period did. Well, there is one other new thing occurring: more industrial employers are taking on illegal immigrants as laborers because they will work in illegal conditions (and if you know how far the protections of OSHA have fallen, you know that's really bad). Aside from farms, illegal immigrants are now working in meat-packing plants, the most dangerous job in America. Injuries and even death are common in those plants (a subject discussed more thoroughly in Fast Food Nation). I can almost guarantee you that after reading this book, you won't be asking why we're not doing more to keep illegals out; you'll be asking why the people who use those laborers aren't in jail.

The third part of the book deals not with the sex industry exactly, but rather the porn industry (including adult films, books, toys, etc). As Schlosser tells it, that basically boils down to one man: Ruben Sturman. If you've never heard of the name, that's not surprising. This was a man who had imaginary people as heads of companies that actually did business for him, and almost none of the money went through traceable means to him. Really, this is a story of a decades-long conflict between a businessman and government regulators. Sturman himself was no Hugh Heffner or Larry Flynt. He didn't indulge in his own product or have a promiscuous sex life. He only visited the set of one of his movies, and left because it was boring. He was eventually caught for tax evasion, but in the end I could hardly fault him for hiding his money from the government when they went after him on obscenity charges obsessively. When you hear how many times and ways they tried to prosecute him, you'll think it's ridiculous too. Along the way, you find out how he built an empire of porn from coast to coast (from Cleveland, of all places!) and how it reflected the fight between the government pornographers.

What's really funny is that although they finally caught him on tax evasion, that investigation was only started because they were trying to catch him on obscenity charges, something the federal government had been trying to do since he distributed "smut" books (stuff that's practically tame compared to the paperback romances we have on the shelf at the library). By the time they caught Sturman, Larry Flynt had won his fight over the constitutionality of porn and there were adult theaters open all over America. For a long time, they'd tried to claim that "adult bookstores" were somehow connected to the mob, but Sturman has always denied that charge and federal investigators of the mafia also rejected that idea. I think this section is interesting for the human story, but also because it details the rise and spread of pornography in America. Something that might surprise you in this section is Larry Flynt's prediction that if porn is freely available, people will stop wanting it. Sounds strange, but there are some numbers from Denmark to back that up (or some country, if I'm forgetting the right one).

That kind of parallels another argument he made about drugs. Evidently Spain and Portugal have legalized drugs and evidently are showing a decline in usage (as well as drug crime). I don't enough to say more about that.

In the end, Schlosser wraps up with his recommendations (legalize marijuana, let people have their porn, and criminilize the employers of illegal aliens, not the immigrants). The book's parts, while all reflecting illegal or shady sides of the American economy, have little in the way of a unifying theme. The introduction of the book talks as if this is more of an economic study on those segments and hands out some numbers and statistics. While these are certainly interesting and in-depth discussions of some important issues, they're really not economic studies, although he does talk about exactly how much money is represented in these industries (and it's a freakin' huge amount of money).

Schlosser is a fairly good writer, but he's more of a journalist type than Morgan Spurlock is, so you have to expect it to be quite a bit drier. While it's always enlightening and interesting, I'm not sure I'd call it entertaining exactly. This is a pretty heavy book (figuratively, that is), and I don't recommend it as casual reading if you're only going to pay half-attention to it. But I do strongly recommend taking the time to read it and appreciate it properly. At the very least, people need to know what he says about marijuana and illegal immigrants. So there it is. Read it!

"The Assassin's Gate" by George Packer

Iraq is a place of terrible sadness and terrible hope.

That at least is the lesson I take away from reading Packer's book, about the American invasion and occupation of Iraq. I found his book to be highly educational, engrossing, saddening and deeply moving. Packer does more than offer just an overview of the history of the invasion and the present occupation; rather, he attempts to get in the heads of both principle actors and ordinary people, Iraqi and American, swept up by the war and it's aftermath. In that way, he gives us a picture of Iraq, and ourselves through the lens of Iraq, that is as complete as it can be in one book.

Packer's book is divided into four different section. In the first, he talks about the run-up to the inavsion. This story we are mostly familiar with, as a result of countless news and magazine articles and interviews detailing the failure of the Bush administration to understand what they were getting us into, and plan accordingly for the consequences. But Packer takes us deeper into the motivations of those who planned the war, into the incredible insularity of President Bush and the willingness of the neo-cons in the administration to deny the complex realities of Iraq to further an airy ideal of democratization, while at the same time justifying to the public the need for invasion on national security grounds that they themselves didn't accept or were simply uninterested in. Through him we see how those in the administration deliberately avoided planning for the aftermath of Iraq, believing that to do so would weaken their case for war and that it was entirely unecessary anyway. The neo-cons sincerely, honestly believed that a relative handful of Iraqi exiles, many of whom hadn't been in Iraq in decades, could lead the democratic revolution they had in mind, install a new government in a span of months that would be friendly to America as a result of the liberation, and allow us to pull our troops out before the end of the year.

Packer glosses over the invasion, and for good reason, as many would probably agree that though the initial invasion was the turning point for everything, it's also dwarfed by what's happened since. Instead, the next section of his book takes us inside first the Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance led by Jay Garner, then the Coalition Provisional Authority under L. Paul Bremer. The failure of the ORHA is well documented; after all, Garner wasn't replaced after only a few months because he was enjoying wild success. But the simple truth is that Garner and the ORHA were set up to fail. They were not tasked with doing what would be necessary in Iraq after the invasion, because nobody believed that anything other than acting as a caretaker until the exiles could come to power was necessary. The looting and chaos that followed the invasion resulted in a quick change of plans, the sacking of Garner, and the creation of the CPA. But the CPA was also hampered by the failure to plan for the post-invasion period; planning was done on the fly in Iraq and in the Washington, and the officials working for the CPA, famously insulated from the world of Iraq around them, made decisions that seemed arbitrary, or uninformed, or capricious to the Iraqi people. Pronouncements were made that were aimed to the Americans back home, but real progress on the ground was hampered by key strategic mistakes such as widespread de-Baathification at the behest of the exiles and the neo-cons, economic changes put in place by young men and women from such places as the Heritage Foundation or the AEI, and the decision to completely disband the Iraqi army, a decision made seemingly by Bremer himself without any historical justification or guiding princples.

Far removed from the Green Zone, we then see a portrait of an American captain working on the ground with the Iraqis to furhter the reconstruction. Unlike the ideologues in the CPA, or even senior commanders in Baghdad or the Pentagon, American soldiers on the ground were interested only in what worked. How should they deal with the Iraqis? How can local government be reconstituted? Where can they get the money for reconstruction projects? American soldiers faced the double task of trying to fight a burgeoning insurgency without alienating the Iraqi populace, while at the sime time scraping for funds and equipment to do things they were never trained for like build schools or hold local council elections. Nothing if not resourceful, many of our soldiers did they best they could with what they could get their hands on, even as they began to die in greater and greater numbers.

But perhaps the most engrossing part of the book is the part about the everyday Iraqis themselves. Packer talks to Sunnis and Shiites, Kurds and Turkommen, former Baathists and former resistence fighters, the religious, the secular, insurgents and members of the militias, men and women. Through it all there emerges of a portrait of an Iraq that is chaotic, violent, backwards, but yearning for change and who all seem to start out cautiously optimistic about the future, though each Iraqi he talks to seems to have a different idea of what that future should or will be. But at the same time it is moving and saddening to read about how the violence worsens with each of Packer's return trips to Iraq, and how his Iraqi colleagues and friends begin to grow more and more fearful of the future, and more fatalistic, more resigned to a future of bloodshed, fighting, and chaos as Iraq begins to tear itself between the Kurds, Sunni insurgents and jihadists, and increasingly brutal Shiite militias. As you read, it's as if you can feel the hope draining from them, and their resignation as they realize they are trapped in a land that is still defined largely by the ways in which Saddam Hussein terrorized, brutalized and divided his own people to maintain his power.

The most painful chapter to read, "Memorial Day", is the story of a father who has lost his son, a private in the U.S. Army, to the war in Iraq. It is agonizing to read not only about the father's pain, but his unending questions about the war in Iraq that he is constantly asking. In an email, he candidly and honestly puts these questions to Packer, and to himself:

October 4, 2004: What is best for America and Iraq? That is the question. A better Iraq? Is it possible? Why did we go into Iraq? What justifies our remaining? American lives have been lost, precious lives, for what? Can something be achieved that is worthy of the sacrifice? Are there things not known to anyone other than the President and his advisors? No one in the Senate or any of the "attentive" and "informed" organizations? That would justify the sacrifice? And how much more sacrifice can be justified? For us to turn Iraq over to civil war would be hard to take. I don't have the right to advocate continued involvement because of my sacrifice that would lead to more, many more. What is best for America and Iraq? What is reality on the ground in Iraq? What is possible to achieve? Can Kerry and a team of his choosing do it? It is a great leap of faith. And most of the time none of this matters to me. I want my son. My son.

Packer doesn't have to say it, because it's clear from the fact that he included this and other agonized emails from the father. This father who lost his child in Iraq, is asking the questions that each of us should have been asking from the beginning, should have been asking this whole time, and should be asking ourselves now. The point is not primarily the answers, though we desperately need answers of some kind. The point is in the asking, because we can never even hope to come close to the answers unless we ask these questions honestly of ourselves, without consideration for which political party it harms or benefits. It shouldn't have taken the deaths of hundreds of soldiers to begin asking the questions, and it shouldn't require the deaths of thousands more to ask them in earnest now.

The book ends with the dissolution of the CPA and the national elections at the beginning of 2005, and Packer returns largely to the Iraqis that he's come to know to end his story. We see the elections were a hopeful event to many Iraqis, however they were interpreted by both sides here at home, but also that many Iraqis faced death to vote in a country that should have been well on its way to peace, and that many other Iraqis seemed willing to place themselves in the hands of Shiite political parties that want an Islamic theocracy that has little room for the Sunnis, secular Iraqis, and former Baathists. And as we've seen in the last year and a half, there are precious few ways in which anyone could say Iraq has gotten better. More and more Iraqis die, American casualties no longer make headlines because they're so common place, and hard-line Shiite militias seemed poised to wrest control of the country to themselves. Still, Packer's book gives us valuable lessons on what has happened-on what is happening-in Iraq, lessons that we can use now, lessons that we ignore at our peril.

Pick it up.

Misquoting Jesus by Bart D. Ehrman

I was surprised when I put this book on hold at the library and it turned out to have 7 people ahead of me on the list. The vast majority of non-fiction books, especially those about studies of Christianity do not tend to have the same kind of pull that books like the "Left Behind" or "Da Vinci Code" do. I figure this is an anomaly caused by the extreme popularity of Da Vinci right now. Otherwise, a book that talks about how the New Testament is in fact subject to human error might not get such great play.

Before anyone gets excited though, let me say that this book doesn't tell you anything new. It's a well-written introduction to the area of textual criticism for the layman, and it doesn't really tackle any of the major issues of that area of study. The bulk of it is just him talking about the categories of textual errors that occur and why they occur. Well, I guess some people actually don't know that much about it, so let me give a little history.

No one on Earth (at least, that we know of) has any of the original manuscripts of any of the books of the New Testament. Nor do we have any first-generation copies (that is, original copies of those first manuscripts), nor anything that was copied within 100 years of the originals. And there are precious few copies that go back before the time of an "orthodox" church. So we have the fewest copies from the earliest period and more as time goes on (up to today, when there's practically a bible for every person on the planet). Christian scholars have known all along that there are many variations among the copies of the books we have. As Ehrman puts it, there are more variations than there are words in the New Testament.

To bring it to the point, the idea of the Protestant church is that the Bible, being the divinely inspired word of God, serves as the infallible guide for belief. The problem, of course, is that the New Testament was written and re-written by human beings. Those who claim that the King James Version (or any other) is the "right" version are basing their beliefs on flawed translations of flawed copies and flawed translations. There is no version of the Bible today that can safely be said to present the unaltered texts as they were originally written.

Ehrman details exactly how such mistakes and deliberate changes were made, why we know they were made and how we can try to reconstruct the original wording. This is not a science unique to Ehrman, nor is this some kind of fringe movement. The field of textual criticism was founded almost 500 years ago when Protestant scholars tried to show validation of their religious beliefs by working backwards to the purest form of the New Testament possible. It has become fairly advanced at this point and involves scientific methods of reconstructing the texts, as well as using established criteria to determine what the older, more original version of a text was.

Ehrman discusses the different kinds of changes that were made, including the accidental and deliberate changes. An example of accidental change would be when a scribe copied a line over again without realizing it or miscopied a word (or miswrote the actual letters, something that happens when you're copying a language that's not native to you). He also points out some deliberate changes, those where the scribes were making a passage make more sense to themselves grammatically and theologically.

Ehrman's definitely a good writer, and I've enjoyed reading his books before, so if you're an Ehrman fan, it's definitely worth it. If you don't know anything about textual criticism, this is as decent a place to start as any. But, like I said, if you've read a dozen books that study the New Testament, you've more than likely heard everything that's said in this book. But if you're not that knowledgeable, read it!

Marvel 1602 by Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert

Not a whole lot to say about this. I thought it was entertaining and enjoyable, but not especially good, which is surprising given that it was written by Neil Gaiman and illustrated by Andy Kubert. To paraphrase Gaiman though, it was just supposed to be something to pass the time reading. It was exactly that. Not really that involving.

The premise is essentially that due to a temporal anomaly (unfortunately that's been turned into a cliche by Star Trek), the age of heroes and mutants arises nearly 400 years early. The book doesn't include a huge cast of characters, but it does work in quite a few, including such favorites as Nick Fury (spymaster for the Queen of England), Jonathan Strange, Matt Murdoch, Charles Xavier (Carlos Javier), Scott Somerisle, Jean Grey, Otto Von Doom, the Fantastick Four (that's the correct spelling), and a few more. For the most part, they're just themselves transposed into past versions almost identical to their current forms. That's not the most imaginative use of those characters. Although nothing stands out as completely anachronistic, the historicity of the story is pretty vague and generic, much like you'd expect to see in your average syndicated show (Hercules etc.)

So it was worth reading, but definitely not worth buying (which I didn't, I borrowed it from the library). I really did expect more just because of Neil Gaiman's involvement. Not that I think he just crapped out on this one, but maybe he wasn't putting too much sweat into it (or maybe the format cramped his style). As for the art, well, I can't say I'm a huge fan of Kubert. As far as I'm concerned, he draws serviceable depictions rather than art (for the comics anyway). Not that there's really anything wrong with that, but I gave up on such bland fare as X-Men long ago. This will definitely be more interesting and entertaining if you're a real Marvel fan.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

You may know Michael Chabon for "Wonder Boys", which was also turned into a movie starring Tobey Maguire and Michael Douglas. I liked that book, but I liked Amazing Adventures even more. Chabon is a great writer of characters. He's one of the few who can really write believable characters in believable situations and make it interesting. But of course he provides himself some fuel in the setting for this novel.

Josef Kavalier and Samuel Klayman (later Clay) are cousins who are thrown together in Cleveland of the late thirties when Josef is sent away from his home in Czeckoslovakia, fleeing the purges of the Nazis. The pair become great friends and later collaborate on a new comic book together, inventing the character of The Escapist. If you know anything about comics, you know that Cleveland of the 30s and 40s was the place to be for comics, and the parallels to the creation of Superman are obvious (Jewish creators and all).

So naturally, one of the best story elements is that Kavalier and Clay get to run around in this exciting historic time (both in the world of comics and the real world) with the backdrops of the dawn of the Golden Age of comics and the outbreak of World War II. Of course with their Jewish roots, both are of great importance to these men.

They go through many turbulent times together but they always stand by each other, and that's what's best and most human about the book. It's the story of a great friendship in great times. Chabon could have written such a story in any time, but he chose an era which isn't exactly bound up in myth and legend as is the Revolution or Civil War. Plus which, there aren't a whole lot of non-fiction books (or at least popular ones) that even talk about the beginning of the comic-book industry. So that's at least two reasons to read it.

I just like Chabon's writing, so for me there's not much need to explain why you should read this book. Just do it!

Jarhead by Anthony Swofford

I hardly know what to say about this book. It's real, but it shows a surreal version of reality. It's the kind of real "I was a grunt on the ground" kind of writing that militarists usually love, but also a very poetic and poignant look at what being a Marine is. Swofford is obviously not your typical jarhead. I've known a few, and they tend not to be the most intellectual of men. Not that they're not smart. But being smart and being invested in knowledge and learning are two different things, and it fundamentally colors the way people view the world. Swofford was evidently too intellectual for his own good. I can understand why he joined the military, because many of us do for much worse reasons than he did, but still, it seems like it was the wrong place for him. And yet that is a fortunate mistake for all us readers of the book (and later watchers of the movie), because it meant there was someone there who could write the story in a very personal way. A lot of memoirs come out of wars, but it's usually figures like Colin Powell and Norman Schwartzkopf who write them. You rarely get a grunts-eye view of the world.

On the one hand, this is a man's personal experience of being a Marine, but on the other hand it's the chronicle of the last traditional war America fought, our glorious triumph in the desert that erased some of the stigma of Vietnam. But like I said, it's a surreal reality. From a rain of oil in the desert to a game of football in 115 degree heat played in full NBC uniforms, you get to see firsthand the ridiculousness and the seriousness of the military. Swofford pulls no punches in his depiction of Marines and Marine life. For example, it is rather striking when he discusses getting r&r in the barracks the Saudis built to house foreign armies fighting on their soil. And when he's sitting in a circle of charred corpses, imagining what they might have said shortly before they died, it's difficult to glorify war. Justify it maybe, but glorify it not a bit. And yet his point was not that the soldiers are wrong or bad in some way, but that they are human. They were fine soldiers. STA was his unit, a semi-elite group of sniper-scouts. These were damn good soldiers and he talks about some of the training they ran through. Unlike the movie shows, they did go through some action, but they never did really fight.

You do get to hear quite a bit about the other soldiers in the book that you don't in the movie. They tend to be interesting people, although the guy who was portrayed as a jerk in the movie really was an idiot. But still worth hearing about. It made it all the more real.

I like the way Anthony Swofford writes. It's both easy to understand and artistic. The book isn't full of military jargon, and when he does use technical terms, he explains them first. I think any casual reader would understand what he's talking about just fine since it doesn't especially rely on prior knowledge of the military. Naturally having more knowledge of the first Gulf War will provide you with a deeper understanding of the events in the book, but it's not necessary just to comprehend what's going on.

Unlike the movie, the book follows Swofford after he leaves the Marines and before he publishes his book. I don't know if he was trying to make any kind of point at all, but it just seems like most of those men (teenagers, in some cases) were only in the Marines because they didn't know where else to go. And when they got out, they still didn't know. The question of identity is really the most basic issue raised by Swofford, but he has no answers. He almost sounds pessimistic about ever moving beyond that time in the desert, but it's more like resignation. Perhaps for him, writing the book was an effort to move past it, but he was also showing that it might not be possible. He discusses his father, a Vietnam war veteran, and it's pretty clear that some part of him was always stuck there. For Swofford it may be the same, and for all those other Marines who were there in that unreal reality.

If you don't like military books but you want to learn about soldiers and what they're like, this one might be for you. It's very well written and won't lose the average civilian. If you do like military books and you only want to hear about troop movements, deployments, weapon systems and the usual subjects of militaria, this one might not be for you. It's rather more focused on the human aspects of war. But I say that's what makes it a good book, so I recommend it.

The Crisis of Islam by Bernard Lewis

Either Lewis is making up a ton of stuff, or this is an incredibly scholarly and insightful analysis of the situation in the Muslim world today. Admittedly, given my paucity of knowledge on the history of such, it would be very difficult for me to catch any mistakes or bad interpretations on Lewis' part, but I really don't think it's a worry. Lewis is admirably non-judgmental of either the Islamic world or the West (as the dichotomy is phrased) in his book.

As for the bare facts about this book, it's a very short overview of how the Muslim world got to be the way it is today, in the broadest strokes of history. More important is what it is like today, as well as its historic conflict with Christendom, and later The West. But the best aspect of this book is not that it gives such history, which is easily available elsewhere, but his explanations of why parties on both sides view each other as they do. He examines the flawed assumption people in the Muslim world have of Westerners, as well as the flawed assumptions Westerners have of Muslims.

He brings up many instances of mutual misunderstanding, as in the Western interpretation of "Fatwah" to mean a death sentence including a bounty. The literal translation is something like "judgement", meaning only a ruling by a Mufti on a point of law. Also, in more general terms, he talks about how Muslims think we view them, and how this mostly does not match the way Westerners and Americans in particular actually do view them.

Lewis does an admirable job of dispelling myths each side holds about the other, and he does it in a way that leaves no room for argument. Although this is a short book, it's well worth it. However, I did have a couple of problems with the writing of the book. Lewis used a lot of Arabic terms, and I find remembering words in a foreign language awfully difficult. He might say it once and come back to it a few pages later (or not at all), and I wouldn't be able to remember what he was referring to. Plus which, the density of the writing made it extremely difficult to quickly process the loads and loads of info he was handing out!

But overall, it's a really good book, and if you want to know not only what Muslims think about us but why, this is the book for you. I realize at this point that my review doesn't explain why the title is what it is, and in short that's because it's difficult to define exactly what crisis he's talking about. It's not merely "fundamentalists" vs. modernists, dictatorships, and what have you, but that there are a lot of problems in the Islamic world, some caused by the Western world, but many caused by their own failure to establish stable governments based on Islam. And since I don't understand the issue much better than that, I'm going to leave it there. So anyway, if you have room in your schedule for a short non-fiction book about Islam, take a chance and read this one.

The Evolution-Creation Struggle by Michael Ruse

Despite the title of this book, Ruse doesn't actually discuss much of the interactions between Evolutionists and Creationists, much less the over-arching "struggle" that he names. What this book is mostly comprised of is the history of the study of evolution and its connection to Christian liberals called "progressivists". That is, what Ruse is mostly discussing is an ideology of "evolutionism", which is the blending of the science of evolution to support non-scientific (and mostly Christian) ideas of "progress". By progress, he means the idea that everything in the world is building to some better state in an absolute sense. That is, humans are better than ducks because we are higher on the evolutionary ladder, which ladder is meant to lead us all to some state of perfection. This movement is evidently synonymous with the post-millenialist movement of the mid to late 1800s, when optimism among American Christians was very high and before the newer Protestant churches came to prominence.

The book is really mostly a criticism of some modern scientists who carry on these progressivist ideas. He quotes some, notably Richard Dawkins (The Selfish Gene), in order to castigate them for promoting a "secular religion" called evolutionism. This is the version of proggresivism which depends on evolutionary science without any explicitly Christian connections. Although he provides a quite thorough historical background for this idea, I'm not entirely sure he's up to date. Dawkins, after all, is a central figure of the 70s. Stephen Jay Gould turned explicitly anti-progressivist (although Ruse still accuses him of some ideological thinking), and was probably the most popular evolutionist of the last quarter century.

I'm sure Gould gets more name recognition than Dawkins, but even if that wasn't true, I never encountered this "evolutionism" in any of my studies in anthropology. Most anthropologists are very careful to keep any non-scientific bias out of their work, so Ruse's claim that these ideas were still popular kind of stumped me. Obviously they were much more popular at one time, especially when European and American "scientists" were trying to prove such things as the superiority of whites over blacks (or any other color) and when fascist Germany was implementing a eugenics plan to keep the purity of the Aryan race from degrading.

Obviously there was a severe backlash to that kind of thinking, and Ruse says that as Americans turned more pessimistic, the premillenialist movement chose evolution as its target. Not necessarily because they didn't believe in the mechanics of evolution though. It's hard to quantify such things, but the majority of the movement may not even have been biblical literalists, but simply those who didn't believe in progressivism. As Ruse says, it's common to find that premillenialsts are literalists, but it's not a truism that one is the other.

Therefore, the struggle, as defined, isn't even necessarily between creationists and evolutionists, it's between progressivists and anti-progressivists. Now, creationists are definitely anti-progressivist, and adamantly opposed to the actual mechanics of evolution. Ruse, although he doesn't say so to the very end, in no way supportive of these folks despite his own anti-progressivist views. He is very much an evolutionist, and his purpose in writing this book was to examine how to approach the debate without adopting the ideals of evolutionism. He feels that evolution is on a much stronger ground when stripped of any implications for human values or morals, but that when it has religious implications (as in the case of evolution falsifying the Genesis account of creation), the evolutinist must be prepared to do battle on the same ground and not merely dismiss the two issues as being separate. In other words, if creationists want to put forth an argument for literal creation, the evolutionist must be prepared to fight back on the same terms and be strongly grounded in their knowledge of evolution.

He also goes on to criticize any "scientific" creationism such as Intelligent Design, which is a thinly veiled attempt to give creationism some scientific or factual footing, but which in the end appeals to the miraculous for explanation.

As for the history of creationism, he gives a tiny piece of it. Obviously creationism has a much longer history than the science of evolution, since science itself is a relatively modern concept. He mostly talks about it as the "funadementalist" response of the 20th century, and only as it impacts evolution.

It was a short book, and like "Divided by God", mostly useful for the history it gives of evolutionary thought and notable scientists in the field. I'm not sure I agree that "evolutionism" is really that much of a problem in the field, because I've never yet seen an example. But it's a short book and an easy read, so at least for the history it's worth it.

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

I'm going to cheat a little and throw in the Amazon.com review here, because I need some fuel to get started on this one.

Joining the rich literature of runaways, Kafka On The Shore follows the solitary, self-disciplined schoolboy Kafka Tamura as he hops a bus from Tokyo to the randomly chosen town of Takamatsu, reminding himself at each step that he has to be "the world's toughest fifteen-year-old." He finds a secluded private library in which to spend his days--continuing his impressive self-education--and is befriended by a transgendered clerk and the mysteriously remote head librarian, Miss Saeki, whom he fantasizes may be his long-lost mother. Meanwhile, in a second, wilder narrative spiral, an elderly Tokyo man named Nakata veers from his calm routine by murdering a stranger. An unforgettable character, beautifully delineated by Murakami, Nakata can speak with cats but cannot read or write, nor explain the forces drawing him toward Takamatsu and the other characters.

To say that the fantastic elements of Kafka On The Shore are complicated and never fully resolved is not to suggest that the novel fails. Although it may not live up to Murakami's masterful The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Nakata and Kafka's fates keep the reader enthralled to the final pages, and few will complain about the loose threads at the end. --Regina Marler

Ok, I will complain about the loose threads at the end. I thought the story worked wonderfully taken literally, and he'd just kept it in the realm of the literal instead of the metaphorical, this would have been a great fantasy novel. As it was, it was a very good book simply because Murakami hooks you with the powerful characters in this story. Not powerful as in "they are strong", but in the sense that they all have a powerful presence. Murakami makes characters so real they seem to want to lift off the pages, and this despite, or perhaps because of, their strange quirks. No one is exactly what they seem. Even the trucker becomes more through contact with the old man.

The story was still intriguing, and I was so painfully disappointed when, in the end, there wasn't really any resolution. Was Colonel Sanders (yes, the Colonel Sanders) banished for good? What was the nature of the stone? What is the relationship between the boy and the librarian? And what did happen to Nakata when he was a boy?

But I guess to Murakami, he didn't see the answering of these questions as the purpose of the story, but rather the asking as the purpose of the characters. I tend to get really frustrated with books like that, because I just really want a resolution. But let my diatribe not fool you. I loved this book. It's always hard to tell with a translated version exactly what the author meant and wrote. But in any case, his story is about characters and about themes. Kafka and Nakata are the two poles around which the story revolves, and they somehow revolve around each other. Again, it's never exactly clear how or why. But if you love character stories (and in my opinion, character stories are some of the best in fiction, such as Look Homeward, Angel), then you will love this book.

This is another one of those books I can only describe as "dreamlike", and that's really not inappropriate, given that in this world dreams and reality blended together so often and so seamlessly. Events in dreams even provide impetus for events in reality, so it's certainly not safe to categorize all the dream events as metaphorical. Some weird stuff certainly does happen in this book, and that's part of what makes the story so entertaining. As the review says, Nakata can speak with cats...for real. It's not metaphorical; he really can talk to cats. They even tell him worthwhile information. Strange stuff.

Despite the confusing ending, Murakami draws you to it as inexorably as a moth to flame with his powerful narrative. You desire to keep on following and following the characters because they're so captivating, and of course to find out what happens in the end.

This isn't necessarily the easiest book to read, but it makes it all the more rewarding. So Nathan's recommendation is: read it!

Some thoughts inspired by Divided By God

We have a problem in America today. That problem is that we can't decide what should be the rational basis for the laws we make. You may be confused now. After all, this is supposed to be related to the church-state issue raised in Divided By God. Well, it is, so bear with me.

One of the points that Feldman raised in that book is that historically, before we were as multicultural a nation as we are now, laws were passed without real regard for what came to be known as "minority rights". As a matter of fact, the very idea of minorities is a relatively recent invention. Whoever was the majority won defacto because nobody else was considered. For example, the laws regarding funding of Catholic schools.

Now before you say that's an obvious case of a breach of the church-state relationship, keep in mind that until fairly recently, in public schools it was normal for teachers to lead children in prayer. Also, reading from the bible was a daily event. When this kind of discrimination was brought to court, it was basically upheld by saying that the public schools (paid for by taxes levied on both Catholics and Protestants) weren't inculcating a particular religion. They were inculcating basic American values that were supposed to be common among all religions. So, by any definition, the state was funding religious education. This was something that the Founders almost surely would not have supported, that being the entire purpose of the establishment clause ("Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof"). Establishment, in that case, is not synonymous with a building, as it is in modern usage (ex. "I find this to be a fine establishment for dining on a small budget.") It means that the government shall make no law that creates a church. That did, in their day, apply to the taxation of people to support churches and religions they did not believe in, something which was a common practice in the states until after the 14th amendment which gave all citizens the rights and protections of the Constitution.

So obviously, on the one hand you have the government in this case supporting the establishment of religion in "public" schools but denying that same support to Catholic schools (which of course were open to anyone who wished to pay). But at the time, that was believed, by the majority of people, to make perfect sense. Nonsectarian Protestantism was the "American way". Of course in later years other people began to take public schools to court for religious teachings (we actually have the Jehovah's Witnesses to thank for much of that). In the progressive 60's and 70's, it was finally seen as a violation of other people's rights to have to support (pay taxes for) a religion they didn't believe in.

But that doesn't change the essential balance of the laws we've written. Some are based more on the shared values of our nation, some on protecting the rights of the individual. To many, this is synonymous with the assault on the doctrine of the separation of church and state that religionists of many stripes have been waging ever since the liberal high-tide passed.

Here's a thought: unless you can win and assure that your laws will always remain the laws, by opening the door to such tyranny of the majority, you are setting yourself up to be the oppressed minority. This is because it's not possible for America not to change. It's not possible for white protestants to be the majority forever, nor anybody else for that matter. Someday the influx of immigrants from south of us will stop. Heck, 200 years in the future we may be sending people down there; who knows?

Among others, that's a reason I don't believe the idea that we can force people to live a certain way should be adopted into our laws. Now this is not to say that there is no place for values in our laws. Nor is it to say that we should basically live in anarchy and let people run around doing whatever they please. I certainly believe in a large, effective government (and in paying taxes for that government). But I think that it shouldn't reach into our personal lives.

I guess to some people, at issue is a supposed dichotomy between bringing up people to have an essential American national identity and respecting individual rights. But I don't agree that there is a dichotomy. As a matter of fact, I think we'd be teaching our kids to be good Americans simply by teaching them that they have essential, basic rights and by respecting those rights. Of course we should also have a better public education system, because how can they truly love this country if they don't know it? But anyway, I say let the Baptists be Baptists, let the Catholics be Catholics, and don't let either of them write laws based on their understandings of religion. And this has nothing to do with whether I think their interpretations are correct or not. I think the only rational course is to protect the freedom of the individual at the highest level.

It's almost certainly not what the Framers intended in setting out the Constitution. While they believed the government existed to serve the people, they also believed that at times state coercion of the people was necessary. Despite what some morons want you to believe now, most of the Framers certainly did not believe that the individual should not be taxed. If you recall, the refrain was "No taxation without representation." Not just "No taxation." And, as I noted above, the Bill of Rights (and Constitution in general) did not apply to individual citizens. They placed limitations of power on the Federal government, not State governments. The State of Virginia certainly could restrict free speech, fund churches, and take away your guns. But that just goes to show that over the years, the American citizen has demanded more and more freedom, as we have seen that the desire for freedom is paramount in all peoples. We have, in general, come to believe that individual freedom is the most basic necessity of the democracy we live in. And, over the years, because of that belief we have seen Congress and the courts expand our freedoms again and again.

This brings me to my point: the one thing we Americans believe in above all else is freedom. Nothing makes us more American than that. The freedom to believe what we want, say what we want, read what we want, shoot guns if we want and everything that follows. That is our American value. And that is why freedom should be the prime rationale for every law we make and every action the government takes. Everything can be expressed in terms of conflicting freedoms. Take, for example, murder. Surely the freedom of life is your most basic one; so fundamental that it doesn't need to be stated anywhere. Murder is the absolute negation of all your rights. Therefore, no one has the right to murder anyone, as it represents the supreme abrogation of another's rights. Also consider traffic regulation. You can't speed, you can't run red lights, and you can't cross three lanes of traffic because you're endangering others and threatening to injure or kill them. You have no right to do that. It's not about government having rights. The government doesn't have rights to regulate you; regulating citizens is a job the government has as a proxy of everyone. Not everyone can be a policeman or fireman. You can't stand there 24 hours a day 365 days a year enforcing speed limits. That's why there's a government; they do it for us.

As far as separation of church and state, I absolutely have the right not to fund religions. In that rationale, I might say that any individual has the right not to fund anything they don't agree with. But religion, in my view, is not a function of the state, whereas police, firemen, libraries, and soldiers are. This is because regardless of my beliefs, if I'm being robbed a cop will help me out. If my house is on fire, the firemen will come. And whatever my religion, I can get a book at the library. I guess churches can do that sort of thing too, by making religion a non-element in the services they give, but then, why would they?

Christians sometimes make the argument that funding public schools forces their kids to learn teachings that are not in keeping with their religion, and therefore violates their right to worship as they please. They are "violated" by such teachings as evolution, sex education, and the idea that gay people are normal. Well, I can understand that. If your religion actually says that science isn't, well, true, then teaching kids scientific fact can violate your religion. And for that I would almost say that people should be able to take their kids out of public school and have their tax money applied to private schools.

But then again, the greatest common bond most Americans will probably ever share will be their public schools. A lot of times, they're flawed. But contrary to movies (that damn liberal Hollywood), my multicultural public institutions were great places to interact with people of all races, colors, and cultures. And we did. I had white friends, black friends, Hispanic friends and Asian friends. Teaching kids to be part of the democracy is one of the prime functions of public education, and that, in terms of what's valuable to the state, is more important than assuring that kids receive religious education on the state's time. For it is the state's time, that time of childhood to forge Americans, not Catholics or Baptists or Lutherans or Mormons. Let the religions be concerned with that. That's what you have Saturday and Sunday for and weeknight services (what, you didn't know that some churches do?). If the state has the responsibility to teach us anything, it is the value and responsibility of being an American and being part of the democratic process. And despite my wishes to be inclusive, I say to you that if you don't wish to be part of the democratic process, you may go somewhere where you will not be.

Now I've actually been working on this a few days and I wish to wrap it up, so let me start to end, and if it ends too quickly, sorry. And if this has been too long, sorry. But screw you, it's my blog.

What I want to suggest is this: that we regard every individual, and every group of individuals as having a "sphere" of rights. Now these rights don't need to be defined; we shall assume that in every case of doubt, everyone has every right. If I haven't mentioned it before, let me mention it now: Madison, among others, argued against the Bill of Rights being adopted because he didn't want it thought that the only rights that existed were those enumerated in the document. He thought, as all the Framers did, that the rights of people were unlimited. The reason a Bill of Rights was included goes beyond the scope of my writing, but suffice it to say that a number of folks still wanted their rights specifically protected. So let's say you have this sphere of unlimited rights. Well, everyone does. Right away you can see what the problem is. People's sphere's are going to run into each other. At issue is what happens when these spheres interact. Well, both spheres should be preserved to equal measure. In the example I used before, you can't murder someone because that completely negates their freedom. But if the issues is that you want to shoot things, well, you should have the right to shoot things, as long as it doesn't infringe on someone else's personal sphere.

Now I really don't have the time or inclination to elucidate much further, but I'm assuming that you can reasonably see where this is going. The government would only have laws regarding where people's spheres of freedom overlap or intersect, and those laws would exist to maintain an equal balance of freedom between the parties. This would result in much the same country as we have today. Speed limits would still be there, for the aforementioned reasons. Laws against drugs might have to change unless we have some reason to believe that self-annihilation harms others (which it does by the way, if only because public tax money has to be spent on picking you up when you're dead). And of course there's the question of whether you can voluntarily abdicate your rights. And of course, if you could, then what would constitute such abdication? My system, as you see, is not necessarily simpler than our present system. But I do think it's fairer.

For issues that occur between individuals, most of us are already of the opinion that it's none of our business. Except of course, when what they do offends you. We used to have laws banning inter-racial marriage. That was struck down, eventually, but the idea that you can regulate person to person relationships hasn't been. Gay marriage, again. I don't see why the state has any business regulating the personal matters of any two people save to assure that neither of them is infringing on the other's rights. I mean, if I wanted to give someone the legal rights to me that they would have in marriage without marrying them, why shouldn't I have that power? And what difference does it make whether sex is involved or not? How about polygamy? In what way does it involve the state? Why does the state have any compelling interest in multiple marriages? As approached from the viewpoint of individual rights, I think it's absurd.

You know, I'm a married man. One man, one woman. Just like God intended, as some would say. And I'm not interested in quitting, or getting more wives (or an additional husband!). I don't want to use drugs; I barely drink caffeine and never alcohol. But if other people do these things, I don't see it as an infringement of my rights and freedoms. And if it's not infringing my rights and freedoms, why should I have any right to limit them?

Divided By God: America's Church-State Problem (And What We Should Do About It) by Noah Feldman

The title of this book is a bit misleading. Or perhaps more than a bit. It's not really about the solutions to the problem, but rather a long exposition on the historical basis of the problem, including a detailed legal history and examination of the issue and its changes over the years. The solutions he proposes amount to about a paragraph's worth of words. Don't get me wrong, that's not really a bad thing, especially since it seems like neither side likes the approach he takes. More on that later.

More than anything else, I think the best reason to read this book is the history it gives of the entire church-state issue. Many people on either side have some interpretation to give of what the Framers meant when they wrote Freedom of Religion into the Constitution, variously informing us that the Framers intended either the enshrining of Christianity in our government or that the Framers meant that government shouldn't even recognize religion or accord it any special status. Feldman debunks both popular views by going back to the pre-Constitutional writings of Madison and Jefferson, arguably two of the most influential men involved in the actual writing of the Constitution. What he discovers (or rather, uncovers from the layers of history that have been put on top), is that "freedom of religion" is meant to protect the individual from the tyranny of a state religion. Many people probably don't connect the wording of that amendment with the fact that in most countries established at the time (all European ones), the church and state were inseperably intertwined. The choice was either Protestant or Catholic, and for the commoner, their religion was that of their ruler. At the time, religion wasn't seen as the threat, it was the government! So the Framers wrote two parts to eliminate that problem; the government could not establish a state church, and the government could not prohibit other churches.

Now how that turned into the situation of today is not in the purview of a simple book review, but it provides the substance of the majority of the rest of the book. And it's a fascinating story, including information about how Protestants used the separation clause to keep from funding Catholic schools (while forcing Catholics to fund Protestant-oriented public schools). And of how it was seen as acceptable to fund religious charity organizations, such as Catholic orphanages. There's also the story of why polygamy ended up being illegal, which of course deals with why government governs marriages at all.

One of the things I learned from this book that I hadn't really seen discussed before was how in the past, the argument really came down to what kind of values people wanted inculcated in American children. The people who espoused religion in school weren't necessarily pushing it because they believed we needed religion in schools, but because they wanted schools to teach the children values, and their values came from their religion. Of course you can see the problem with that immediately, but at one time, the Protestant majority of this country had no problem marginalizing everyone else (and many of them still don't have a problem with that).

Anyway, those are just some of the topics covered in this book. He really gives you an in-depth treatment. The history and historical background to current events that he provides are invaluable, and definitely the most succinct and balanced treatment you'll probably be able to find. Where he goes a little wrong though, is in boiling the debate down to two camps, the "legal secularists" and the "values evangelicals". Essentially a legal secularist is one who wishes to see any and all religious thought banished from the realm of political debate. That is, a Christian shouldn't be allowed to bring their Christian values into any debate (so they have to argue abortion or "under God" in the Pledge based on something else). A values evangelical would be one who thinks that our government and laws should be based on common, shared values. Not that his names are wrong, or that such parties don't exist, but they are by far the minority of people.

I don't think most people who believe religion has no place in government believe that because they think values have no place in government. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's not true. We all have some kind of values we want in place. It's just that for some of us, it's important not to have values written in to law that by their very nature discriminate against people who don't share those values. On the other hand, according to Feldman, the values evangelicals believe that we can write values into law without being exclusive. This supposedly can be seen in the fact that Christians and Jews (and perhaps other religions too) can come together on moral stances such as the death penalty and gay marriage. Theoretically it's not because they want to enforce their beliefs on us, but rather because they want to preserve the national character that they see as historically having shaped this nation into what it is today.

Obviously we can see some problems with these characterizations right away. As I said about the legal secularists, it's not that these people don't want values, it's that they don't think we ought to be deciding how other people live. And for a good many values evangelicals, that's exactly what they want. I think Feldman's simplifications are a little too abstract. There are certainly people exactly like he describes them, but that's not the majority of people. I've read others say that those two viewpoints represent the extreme end of spectrum, but I don't think that's true either. I think those are more side-branches than extremists, because both points of view are entirely too rational for extremists.

At the end of the book, Feldman gives an ending with a solution that seems like he only realized he needed to fulfill the second part of the book's title at the last minute. Seriously, it's just a few pages long, and in it he basically says to give the values evangelicals the symbols of religion that they want but to end any kind of funding of private schools (by school vouchers) and that in any debate over issues, the legal secularists shouldn't exclude values evangelicals' religious rationale, but rather only argue on the merits of any proposed law using logic and expect to win.

Really, it's not much longer than that. While I have criticism for the proposed solution itself, I'll save that for later and merely say for now that the ending is just too short to do any good even if he did have a good point.

As for writing style, Feldman isn't boring, but still not as lively as Michael Pollan. More non-fiction authors need to take cues from him! He does make the history that he writes about interesting, and by making it relevant to other well-known aspects of history, he succeeds in bringing it from the abstract to the real. Furthermore, he delves into some history that is very important but little talked about: what people think it means to be American, and our reasons for making laws the way we do. If more people knew that stuff, I'm sure they'd be less puzzled by our politics today.

Anyway, good book but far from being perfect. This is a great history book and does succeed admirably in continuing the story into the present day, but only in general terms. While he talks about the Moral Majority and the Christian Coalition, he only mentions them as part of the general movement towards fundamentalism, and not how they have specifically interacted with politics in the last twenty years. As a short study, this book is fine, but it could definitely have been the beginning of a much larger work that I'm sure would be highly valuable. The end, as I said before, really isn't worth much. Overall, I still say read it because it's not that long, but be prepared to get no more than a pretty good history lesson.

All the Beautiful Sinners by Stephen Graham Jones

Now this is an amazing book. I don't like murder mysteries or crime novels, or psycho-dramas, or thrillers, but I liked this book, which definitely falls under one of those genres. In short, it's about people trying to catch a serial killer. In reality, it's two stories that cross each other's paths.

Jim Doe is a Blackfeet Indian from Texas, a Sheriff's Deputy at the beginning of the book. After the Sheriff, his friend and mentor, is killed by an Indian who's passing through, he goes on the trail of the killer. He feels guilty because he should have taken the call, but he was spending time with a girl who reminded him of his dead sister.

In the other story, FBI agents are on the trail of a killer who leaves behind the bodies of adults who are altered to look like children. That is, their legs and arms are shortened. They are also painted white and put up on scaffolds like the Indians used to do.

I can't really go further than that without giving away some of the plot. But then, I can't explain it very well anyway. By god, that was one of the most confusing books, I've ever read. I mean, he uses metaphorical statements sometimes as descriptions of events, so it's hard to tell what's really happening and what's not. Like, did Jim Doe actually see the old man who seemed to disappear behind his car, or was that just what Jim was thinking? I don't know. Mildred read this book before I did, and she had just as much trouble, so it's not just my literal-mindedness. But I really don't think that detracts from the book. It's strange and interesting, and Steven Graham Jones is a writer. Not all writers are "writer" writers, they just use words to build the structure. With Jones, like with Thomas Wolfe and other, more poetic-minded writers, the writing is a work of art in itself. It's hard to describe though, like any art is hard to describe. I mean, saying that Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" is a painting of a field of sunflowers does it no justice, and it's just as hard to describe writing like Jones uses.

As for the story, even if you hate crime novels like I do, this book will satisfy you. It's not about the crimes, nor is it some cat-and-mouse game like other such novels are. There's not the formulaic "FBI agent reliving battle with the one who got away" structure here. To be sure, the killer is referencing something in the past, but it's not what anyone thinks. They're not sure why he ever does what he does, and they have extreme difficulty figuring out a pattern for him. But the author doesn't really let you into anybody's mind, so you don't understand him either. You get to see the past, and you see some of everyone's motivations, but there's no internal dialogue to explain what's going on with anyone.

It's kind of long (I think over 450 pages, but around there anyway), but I never got tired of reading this book. It was extremely compelling. Of course, I was kind of interested since he's a Native American (Blackfeet) author, and there's not that many of those around. Also, he's a Texan author. He lives around Lubbock and teaches at Texas Tech. All of which, you understand, compels my interest.

But once I got started, that's not what kept me reading; Jones is simply a great writer. I guess it's kind of like reading a dream. The sheer strangess of it keeps your attention, but the beauty of its shape would anyway. I just can't recommend this book enough. Give it a try, because even if in the end you don't understand it, it'll still have been worth it.