Mortgages do funny things to people. Apart from the direct result of owning a block of land, it caused two strange reactions in me.

Firstly, I started buying scratchies.

There’s nothing like staring down 25 years of debt to suddenly imbue someone with the irrational belief that they’ll get the winning ticket. After laughing at my Father for buying Lotto tickets, I’m one step away from doing it myself (scratchies are a gateway drug, kind of like the marijuana of gambling). Apparently I’m more likely to be struck by lightning or become infected by malaria – but it doesn’t matter. The precious will be mine!

Secondly, I’ve joined the library.

I resisted this. I didn’t think I could do the ‘deadline’ thing. I’m the kind of person who buys a book and either reads it immediately or leaves it on a shelf to wait for a few years. My problem is that I come across so much interesting stuff to read that my attention is always being swept along by a fast tide.* But I’ve decided to harden up on that.

I also emoed out about not being able to stare at all the books I’ve read. I know I’m sad, but it’s true. The idea of giving it back afterwards and not being able to stare at its creased spine triumphantly was daunting. It’s also daunting that when I do eventually buy the books I really enjoyed that they will be pristine on the shelf – the dreaded sign of the book poser!(You know the person I’m talking about. They have all the classics in clear view on their book shelf, but they are mysteriously unspoilt)

But unrelenting self-imposed poverty is…well, unrelenting (25 years for God’s sake!). And I finally cracked. So I joined the Newcastle City Library, which is located on Laman Street (behind the fig trees everyone is arguing about lately).

Libraries are strange places. They are generally majestic on the outside and then slightly dingy once you walk past the entrance. They mainly care for the less fashionable in society – those that don’t have the income to purchase their own books, such as the elderly, the unemployed, poor university students and children. Yet they are one of the most important institutions in any functioning democracy, alongside the free press. Venerable and unassuming, all at once.

It was the first time I had been in the Newcastle City Library, because I went to the Raymond Terrace Library as a child. The cards are jazzed up now – perhaps even rad (No? Yes?). They’ve created an online catalogue where you can browse their selection and ask them to put titles aside for you. It also keeps track of how many books you have out and which ones are waiting for you at the library. This is like crack for me.

So what have I borrowed so far?

• Hopes & Prospects – Noam Chomsky
• Power & Terror – Noam Chomsky
• The Essential Chomsky – edited by Anthony Arnove
• You Are Not A Gadget – Jaron Lanier
• Naked Lunch – William S Burroughs
• Persepolis – Marjane Satrapi

As you can see, I’m currently on a Chomsky binge. He won the Sydney Peace Prize the other day, but I have been meaning to read his work for ages (by the way – he is better than I imagined and I had high expectations). I’ve finished ‘Hopes & Prospects’ and ‘Power & Terror’ already. I’m currently reading ‘You Are Not A Gadget’, as a break between the Chomsky fever.

Unfortunately, they don’t always have what I want (though they do have a pretty good selection). Or, they have the book in the information and research section, which you can’t take home (for instance, the Journal of John Woolman is there). It turns out that my taste in books is so random that I may still have to buy some.

*I will try to explain how it works. I’ll be reading Alan Moore’s ‘From Hell’ and it will inspire me to read ‘London Labour and the Working Poor’ by Henry Mayhew - but I don’t have it at that moment. So I’ll read the next book on my list, which will be let’s say for argument sake, on politics by Chris Hedges. Then I’ll need to read all the political books the author referenced and all of his books. So if ‘London Labour’ doesn’t get in at that precise moment it might miss out for a long time, even if I manage to buy it later.

About a year ago, I made a blog called ‘Reading The Bible: An Atheist’s Experience’, and was going to post my thoughts and opinions on each book of the bible (For instance, I would have written 50 posts for the entirety of Genesis). But I found other blogs that were doing this and their conclusions just came across to me as crude, unintelligent and reductionist. So I decided against making the blog, closed it down and have continued reading The Bible without comment. At the moment I am up to Exodus 13. This isn’t really a review of The Bible – once I started reading it I realised that it is impossible to review something with so much content and history – I just want to discuss some of the things that have crossed my mind so far. I’ll probably do some more ‘random thoughts’ posts like this once I’ve read more.

The reason that I started reading The Bible is that I find ignorance inexcusable. This quote I think explains some of my anxieties about the lack of biblical knowledge amongst people my age:

‘Those who teach college students today see first hand the effect of these practices, … in the diminished store of their knowledge about the cultural traditions they are supposed to inherit. With the collapse of religion, biblical references, which formerly penetrated deep into everyday awareness, have become incomprehensible, and the same thing is now happening to the literature and mythology of antiquity – indeed, to the entire literature of the West, which has always drawn so heavily on biblical and classical sources. In the space of two or three generations, enormous stretches of the ‘Judeo-Christian tradition’, so invoked by educators but so seldom taught in any form, have passed into oblivion. The effective loss of cultural traditions on such a scale makes talk of a new Dark Age far from frivolous.” – Pg 150, The Culture of Narcissism, Christopher Lasch.

When I read this quote it really put into words something that I hadn’t been able to express. Modern curriculums are designed to be more inclusive – in English I learnt about all sorts of liberal concepts, such as ‘inner journeys’ and ‘aggression and the individual’ – but the courses were devoid of a solid foundation, which is the study of literature, in particular the classics (in my High School’s defence, they were pretty good with Shakespeare. We read ‘The Tempest’ and ‘Othello’, other classes did ‘Romeo and Juliet’). The result is that my generation has effectively been severed from its own culture in some ways, which is very tragic. I have many more thoughts on how the well-meaning, but idiotic curriculums designed by liberally minded intellectuals have negatively effected education, but that is for another post.

So part of the reason that I started reading The Bible was a way to experience first hand a text that has heavily shaped the actions, social order and philosophies of the people I descend from (I’m half Australian, half English – the Australian part being a Heins Variety mix of English, Scottish, Irish and German ancestry), and live with, regardless of whether we are conscious of its influence.

The first idea that struck me about The Bible is that in reality it is very, very different in tone, content and meaning than the way modern western Christians present it. I feel as if I have only received a sanitized version in the Hollywood movies and scripture classes (no surprises there). Hollywood movies I can forgive, but I don’t see why scripture did such a poor job.

The Bible is both mysterious and odd, and at times repetitive and boring. It reminds me of an old fairytale – and I don’t mean that as slander in the way that most atheists refer to biblical stories as ‘fairy tales’. I’m not referring to Disney’s white washed version of fairy tales, but to the ambiguous morals and darkness of the older fairy tales, which were often bloody, gruesome and confusing. They didn’t really make much sense to people beyond their times, so were often updated depending on the audience (I’ve read about ten different versions of Little Red Riding Hood which are all vastly different).

The patriarch’s (Noah, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) in particular are pretty different from their spotless hero portrayal in the modern west. After fleeing his brothers wrath (because he stole his birthright), Jacob sets up a goat Ponzi scheme against his father in law (this subsequently causes him to flee his father in law also) (Genesis 30). Joseph condemns the Egyptians to slavery under the Pharaoh by selling them out during a famine (Genesis 47). Moses murders an Egyptian (who was beating a Hebrew slave) and promptly hides the body (Exodus 2: 11-12).  These are the only examples I can remember immediately, but there are many more.

The patriarchs are also sometimes quite normal – not even the rewriting of history could save them from it. Moses response to Jehovah choosing him was ‘I’m pretty bad at public speaking; why don’t you choose someone else?’. Jehovah’s words were akin to ‘HOW DARE YOU?! I CREATED YOU, I MAKE THINGS GOOD…Fine, get your brother to do the proselytizing’ (Exodus 4:10-16).

The moral grayness of the patriarchs doesn’t bother me, mainly because I don’t consider them a call to virtue or morals. I am more of an onlooker to their triumphs and woes, and I find the paradox of their pettiness and greatness interesting. Apparently most Christians do not find this interesting, since they tend to de-emphasise these parts of the story or try to justify the patriarchs actions through some pretty stunning and hypocritical reasoning, which often involves a heavy dose of cognitive dissonance. If that fails, the ‘but the Old Testament doesn’t apply to Christians’ usually does the trick.

(Truthfully, I don’t want to sound  so cynical, but this is the kind of reasoning I have come across on the internet and through the Christians I know. If any Christians or Jews would like to offer their account of how their Church teaches the Old Testament, including these morally odd parts, I would gladly like to hear).

I think its sad if Christians don’t ponder these conundrums, because this ‘warts and all’ approach in the early bible probably has the possibility of teaching us more about human nature than lessons learned from minimising the flaws or hero worshiping the patriarchs.

As for God himself, he could probably be described best as schizophrenic. At this stage he is pretty much living up to Dawkins’ description of him:

“The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully” – The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins.

I’m not a fan of Dawkins, I can’t really argue with this summation. I would argue that although God is unpleasant this isn’t necessarily a bad thing (unless of course your belief is that he is supposed to be the moral centre of the universe….). He adds a very loud and sporadic presence to the narrative. However, I’m not that interested in God, rather how his creations interact with him. Gods that are meant to be all-powerful are really quite boring (the Olympians are my idea of entertaining), but Jehovah is not without his surprises.

One of the things that I’m enjoying the most about reading The Bible is being able to engage properly with the copious amount of literature and opinions around it. For instance, Slacktivist recently wrote a post about an interpretation of Joseph’s actions in Egypt and how the implications are widely ignored by modern Christians, which I can now more fully appreciate.

For instance, one of my favorite parts of The Bible so far is when God reveals himself to Moses through the burning bush (Exodus 9:1-14). Although the burning bush is fairly epic imagery, the reason I like this passage so much doesn’t really have to do with its events – rather some of the interpretations of its meaning. For instance:

“In E’s* account of the first meeting between Moses and the God who speaks to him from the burning bush, Yahweh reveals his name: ‘Ehyeh asher ehyeh’: ‘I am what I am’. Later Jews and Christians would interpret this to mean that God was being itself, He Who Is. But E did not yet think in these metaphysical terms. In his narrative, God may have been saying something far simpler. ‘Ehyeh asher ehyeh’ is a Hebrew idiom that expresses deliberate vagueness. The remark ‘they went where they went’, for example, means ‘I have no idea where they went’. So when Moses asked God who he was, Yahweh in effect replied: ‘Never mind who I am!’”- Pg 46, The Case For God, Karen Armstrong.

Every time I read this the scene in the bible it makes me laugh, because I imagine the momentary pause before God’s incredulous ‘Never mind who I am!’ reply. This is not to say that metaphysical interpretations of ’I AM WHAT I AM!’ are wrong or unuseful, just that the original writers may not have had that in mind, and that this should be taken into consideration also.

But one of the best things is the way it is going to impact on my appreciation of art and literature. I’ve already become somewhat obsessed with find different versions of the depiction of Jacob wrestling the angel, because I love viewing each artist’s impression of the event. The way this will add another dimension to a great deal of my reading and viewing material is probably too big for me to grasp at the moment, but it feels awesome.

Based on what I’ve read so far, I would recommend reading The Bible to Christians and Atheists alike (and all the spectrums of belief and unbelief in between), but on the condition that you honestly try to digest it without the interpretations of either group playing too heavy an influence (I know this is near on impossible, but hear me out).

Christians, for instance, should try to really read what’s going on without apologetics goggles on (for instance in that Slacktivist topic on Joseph, one of the commenters wrote about how he had read the passage about Egyptian slavery many times without noticing its implications. His eyes had just glossed over it) and without running back to the Pope/Paster/Priest for glib interpretations of the grubby parts.

For atheists I would recommend reading the actual Bible, not the ‘Sceptics Annoted Bible’. I’m not saying never read this version, I’m sure it has many interesting factoids, just don’t do it the first time. It’s intellectually dishonest and the equivalent of Christians reading ‘The Origin of Species – Annoted by Creationists’, rather than Charles Darwin’s original. In case you haven’t noticed, sceptics tend to be sceptical and by association somewhat cynical about the Bible, which isn’t a wrong position – just a simplistic one at times.

• Dead Aid – Dambisa Moyo
• Raising My Voice – Malalai  Joya
• Voices of the Fire – Alan Moore
• From Hell - Alan Moore
• The Case of the Pope – Geoffrey Robertson QC
• The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid – Bill Bryson
• The Spy Who Came In From The Cold – John Le Carre
• The Constant Gardener – John Le Carre
• The Man In The High Castle – Philip K Dick
• The Fox/The Captain’s Doll/The Ladybird – D H Lawrence
• The Culture of Narcissism – Christopher Lasch
• Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck

And I have to whinge about something. What is it about critics and making careless mistakes? I finished John Steinbeck’s ‘Of Mice and Men’ the other day and decided to have a look in ’1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die’ to see what they had to say on the subject.

The author of this particular column (EF apparently) harped on about the symbolic death of the american dream and other hyperbolic fancies, before giving a short synopsis about the wrong characters. It was Candy who wanted to move in with George and Lennie, not Slim. IT WAS CANDY!

Publisher: ABDOTC Publishing

Date Published: 2008

Pages: 116

Size: 12.3″ by 9.5″ (Hardcover)

Artwork by Female Illustrators

‘How wrong it is for women to expect the man to build  the world she wants, rather than set out to create it herself.’ – Anais Nin

 The Fusion Junction series returns, this time with an all female line up in the special ‘Queen of Arts’ edition. Published in the same year as ‘Fusion Junction 3′, ‘Queen of Arts’ retains the format of featuring four artists and including brief interviews afterwards. (For reviews on the previous books, click here for FJ1, FJ2 and FJ3)

The selection is reasonably diverse in culture as well as technique. Two of the artists, Maggi and Nox (who return from Fusion Junction 1), represent modern Korean game art. Saskia and Loish hail from western europe - Germany and Holland respectively.

Maggi

Maggi is first in the line up (real name Jeong Won An, aged 26). Her style is a highly palatable pseudo Victorian amalgamation, as if she is re-imagining western europe with a hundred times more frills and bows. Her character design is decadent, with a high attention to detail, however she tones down some of the outfits by rendering them in whites, grays and warm browns. This helps to balance the embellishment, lest it get overwhelming. On show here is mainly her individual character designs, though a few ‘picture’ artworks are featured. Some of the artworks look a little unfinished though, in particular the facial details need to be sharpened.

In contrast to Maggi, Saskia Gutekunst of Germany is next (aged 23). Saskia’s style has a nebulous, mysterious quality. In the artworks, Saskia comes across as confident in her use of cloying darkness alongside pyrotechnical flashes of

Saskia Gutekunst

 colour, creating images of aura and shadow. Her comic illustrations use heavy confident lines and possess a fluidness that easily renders motion. The most common feature of her works is the eyes – which have an evocative, spell binding quality.

I didn’t really think the selection for Nox (Su-Jeong An, aged 23, Korea) was good at all. Her artworks in Fusion Junction 1 were of much more interesting content. In this edition we get more of her clichéd anime style leaning projects – using such imagery as cigarettes, angel wings and effeminate males - which are somewhat devoid of interesting visual content.

Finally, Loish (Lois Van Baarle, aged 22) of Holland is featured. Her favorite colour, aqua, appears prominently in her artworks, as well as surreal underwater scenes. Loish’s cartoon like illustrations sometimes remind me of old-fashioned political caricatures. Every picture has a lively feel, as if a pulse is passing through them. In particular, she is excellent at facial expressions (see her sketch in this article) and I think would be an excellent choice for any upcoming Disney cartoon (if they would stop doing 3D for two minutes!).

It may seem that I am less sympathetic to the Korean artists and this is true. Although their artwork is of good quality, they are still using clichéd techniques and designs common in the mainstream anime/gaming market – all of which have lost their ability to visually dazzle me.

Because this book has made the point of being dedicated solely to female art, allow me to mull over some of the questions it led me to ask.

In modernist countries, such as Korea, Germany and Holland, is there really that much of a difference between the art of men and women anymore? Compared to other countries where strictly defined gender roles are still in vogue, I would say no (if women there were given the chance to create art). But Queen of Arts still represents a subtle shift in perception and raises some interesting questions.

Nox

One of the things I have noticed is that women still seem interested in drawing alluring and scantily clad female characters in their artworks.* When a male drawer depicts sexy women, the motives seem fairly obvious; we assume that he does so because he likes looking at gorgeous women – perhaps he even designs his ideal woman. But why do female drawers do this?** Why not depict women more naturally, or at least more relative to how we experience each other? Is it just habit? Is it because of the market they are aiming at? Is it the way they would like to look and dress given the chance?

Maggi answers this to some extent: ‘I like illustrating curves and the delicateness of a woman’s body’. On the surface of things, this seems fair enough. Yet, viewed overall there seems to be some deficit in the manner in which women represent their own gender in art. Essentially, whose voice is coming from these works? It comes across to me that sometimes women are still representing female bodies in the manner men would, not with their own eye. I think this is partly due to a lack of artistic historical dialogue (women being in the minority of represented artists) to respond to, and also the prevalence of female bodies meaning SEX SEX SEX in the media. Like it or not, these images effects how people respond in art and literature, whether consciously or subconsciously. This is of course, is all taking into account that the artwork on display here is for commercial purposes – perhaps these artists draw women differently in their own sketches, perhaps not.  

Loish

It is amusing to point out that this trend matches (or even crosses over from) classical and modern art, which has a truly abysmal record.

So in response to the opening quote of ‘Queen of Arts’ by Anais Nin - if we are to answer it in the context of ‘building our own art’. I don’t think that Nox and Maggi are quite there yet, but they are on the way. Saskia and Loish seem far more balanced in their approach though. However, these women are just as talented and diligent as the male illustrators – I’m merely pointing out how the history of female depiction is effecting their work.

I could also extend this question to race as well. Why do all the illustrators seem to depict western looking characters (except for Loich, who has a pretty good cross-section), regardless of whether they are western? I am aiming this question more at Nox and Maggi – Nox even goes so far as to depict a women in distinctly traditional Korean clothes with the pointed, narrow features of a western european. I have always been confused by this prevalence by eastern artists, particularly in Japanese anime, to create characters who look nothing like themselves.

Loish sketches

With the exception of Nox, ‘Fusion Junction: Queen of Hearts’ delivers great quality female art in the gaming, cartoon and comic world. This is a necessary edition for anyone collecting the series and a welcome one for those who are just out to dabble in art.

♥♥♥ – 3/5

*Please note that I am referring to the two Korean artists, Maggi and Nox, in this line of questioning – who are far more mainstream (and therefore representative of trends) in their illustration style and manner than Holland and Germany.

**This assumes that the illustrators are heterosexual. My apologies to the artist if this assumption is incorrect.

Author: Virginia Woolf

Publisher: Penguin

Date Published: 1928

Pages: 112

I bought ‘A Room Of One’s Own’ for three reasons. Firstly, it was $10; who can say no to such prices? Secondly, Virginia Woolf possibly has one of the most bad arse names of the century (it sounds like she’s from a comic book – and packing heat). Thirdly, I felt as if I owed the feminist literary movement some page time. It was more of a ‘I should read this, I owe you’ feeling, rather than a burning desire.

But I wasn’t really looking forward to reading it that much. Part of this was due to my expectations – and let me be frank here – I was expecting a whiny tone and a vehement polemic rather than a discussion. I was imagining something akin to that special group amongst the modern feminist circle; the well off, white, liberal intelligentsia who have little grip on reality but a very low threshold for being offended.

Other reasons were not so cynical. I am well versed in the arguments and discussions of feminism due mainly to the wealth of feminist blogs on the internet (rather than through books or school education). Although people like Woolf were the pioneers – and thus the original thinkers – it didn’t change my feeling that I would be reading something I had already covered. I didn’t want to hear the arguments again, regardless of the degree of sympathy for their points or how valid they were.

Oddly enough, it is poverty that motivated me to read ‘A Room of One’s Own’. A moratorium of biblical proportions has been enacted on me by my boyfriend and father – I am not allowed to buy anymore books for a looooooong time. (It’s apt that men are involved in this repression of my book rights!). Long story short – it’s caused me to look back at what I already own, but haven’t read yet.

It turns out that I shouldn’t have been such a bastard, since it was a very enjoyable read. Woolf had been asked to speak about women and fiction for the Arts Society at Newnham in 1928, which would inevitably lead to the lengthened published version known as ‘A Room Of One’s Own’. Instead of writing the usual essay – with an introduction, elaboration of arguments and then conclusion – Woolf opted to tell the story of her thought processes as she pondered the chasm wide subject; women and fiction. 

Her method is interesting and effective. Woolf successfully conveys the meandering, indefinite nature of the development of ideas and the interconnected, yet oddly disjointed, manner in which people wrestle against themselves during this process. Her descriptions are perceptive and luscious, and her manner of argument firm, yet spirited.

Her main theory – that women need the security of money in order to write well – is pragmatic and I believe well founded. This not only allows the writer privacy and mental breathing space, but also allows the writer to pursue education – the great brain juice of all geniuses. She argues that a truly great writer can then rise above the torments of their gender and write with clarity, rather than vindictiveness (Woolf makes the point that even if this rage is well deserved, it does little good for the text). She uses Shakespeare as an example of a genius who became androgynous in his writing manner. This theory is obviously discussed in much greater detail and nuance than I can convey here, but of course the validity of her points is up to the reader to decide.

This quote in particular was a bittersweet epiphany for me:

“Suppose, for instance, that men were only represented in literature as the lovers of women, and were never the friends of men, soldiers, thinkers, dreamers; how few parts in the plays of Shakespeare could be allotted to them; how literature would suffer! We might perhaps have most of Othello; and a good deal of Antony; but no Caesar, no Brutus, no Hamlet, no Lear, no Jaques – literature would be incredibly impoverished, as indeed literature is impoverished beyond counting by the doors that have been shut upon women.” – Chapter 5, pg 83

It made me mourn how much literary insight into half of the human condition has been lost, but also feel hopeful towards the gains made during the last century or so, and the path into the future.

A word of warning on this cheap edition; it could have really benefitted from an introduction. When I was finished I felt really hungry for further analysis, such as initial reactions to the lecture from her contemporaries, a history of Woolf’s life and some background information on some of the more obscure references in the text. I wish that I had bought a more expensive Penguin addition, as they usually have forewords and introductions from people of such knowledge (I don’t know where they find these lurking literary commentators – I like to imagine that they send out owls like in Harry Potter).

I’m looking forward to reading more of Virginia Woolf’s work; I think my next choice will be ‘Three Guineas’. Woolf’s writing is illuminating, rather than alienating, and I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending this book to anyone interested in literature, regardless of their gender.

♥♥♥♥ – 4/5

There have been some books where I felt it wasn’t right to review them; Anne Frank’s Diary is one of them. I just didn’t feel good critiquing the writing efforts of a 14 year old Holocaust victim. Yet, I reviewed Malcolm X and Gandhi, authors who have both met tragic ends at the hands of extremists.

Other books are so daunting that I just can’t do it. This generally happens when I love a book – I find that I’m paralysed because I fear I won’t be able to adequately portray why its so special or do the book justice (finishing the Paradise Lost review was a miracle. I’m not sure how I did it, but the review still pales in comparison to my love of the book and explaining the epicness of John Milton). Some books that fall into this category are Nausicaa by Hayao Miyazaki, Y: The Last Man by Brian K Vaughan and The Once and Future King by T H White. I also tend to find fiction harder to review than non-fiction, hence why two thirds of my reviews are of the latter.

There are some  books that are so heinously shit that it would be a waste of time to review them. All I would be doing is slagging the book off without any form of discussion or insight. Other books are neither here nor there, and there just isn’t anything interesting to say about them.

Another more mundane reason why I don’t review some books is that I finish them and don’t make notes fast enough (‘A Short History of Nearly Everything’ by Bill Bryson is an example). I can’t remember succinctly the exact points I wanted to make and which sections I wanted to quote. I promise myself that when I read them again I will make notes and write a review; but I probably won’t read them again for years because my reading list is so huge. I wonder if other people with blogs have the same kind of occurances.

Anyway, here is a list of books I have completed lately. Hopefully they will pass through the trials I’ve mentioned above and make it to this blog:

• A Walk In The Woods – Bill Bryson
• At Home – Bill Bryson
• Breaking the Sound Barrier – Amy Goodman
• Standing Up to Madness – Amy Goodman
• Static – Amy Goodman
• The Exception to the Rulers – Amy Gooman
• Through the Narrow Gate – Karen Armstrong
• The Spiral Staircase – Karen Armstrong
• Civilisation and Its Discontents – Sigmund Freud
• A Thirsty Evil – Gore Vidal
• Empire of Illusion – Chris Hedges

Author: Charles Darwin

Publisher: Penguin

Date Published: 1869

Pages: 459

I have finally finished ‘The Origin of Species’, a book that is still so controversial that a movie about Darwin’s life couldn’t even find distribution in the United States. It took me over a year to finish.

‘The Origin of Species’ is about the means in which evolution occurs; Natural Selection. Through descent and modification Darwin shows how flora and fauna has drastically changed throughout time. (For the most part I adopted my ‘David Attenborough’ inner monologue while reading this book, which I recommend as highly effective and agreeable).

I really enjoyed the manner in which Darwin writes; he is mostly decisive and thorough, but at times the passionate manner of his explanations really show his love and wonder at nature. I especially enjoyed his descriptions of the habits of animals and his experiments, which really brought into focus just how dedicated Darwin was (he studied barnacles for around ten years!). Some of his tests were so odd and strangely humorous that I really enjoyed imagining him doing them (there was this particular experiment with fresh water shellfish and a pair of ducks feet that really made me laugh).

There were some chapters that I tore through, particularly those on geographic distribution and embryonic development, but there were other chapters that near bored me to death (hybridism….I loathe thee). I found it hard to read about any experiments involving plants, as I don’t have great knowledge of plants types and names.

Darwin is extremely candid about the weaknesses of his theory. Once you read the Origin of Species, it is easy to see how Creationists ‘quote mine’ the text. Basically, Darwin is a proper old-fashioned British gentlemen; he politely illustrates the ways his theory could be wrong. He dedicates an entire chapter, ‘Difficulties On Theory’, just to discuss these issues in stark detail. The word ‘fatal’ pops up frequently. However, after he describes these threats Darwin launches into lengthy counter explanations.

It’s ironic that the honesty and candidness that makes ‘The Origin of Species’ a truly great text is the central reason that it can be tarnished by deliberate misquoting. It is all too tempting for the few Christians who have read the text to take a quote from the beginning of a paragraph and leave out the rest in order to back their own position – a startling act of half truth and dishonesty. I have witnessed this firsthand a great deal, not only on the internet, but also in a few Jehovah’s Witness texts that I have come across. (At the risk of sounding like a raving school teacher) This, ladies and gentlemen, is why it is very, very important to read for yourself. Let others decipher texts for you at your own risk.

The introduction  by J W Burrow was very informative and superb, a real pleasure to read rather than a chore. From this I learned that interestingly enough, ‘The Origin of Species’ barely uses the term ‘evolution’. Darwin didn’t even coin this term, though it is popularly attributed to him (It had been kicking about in science since around the 1830′s – I’m pretty sure it was first used by Lyell. The phrase ‘survival of the fittest’, whilst in ‘The Origin of Species’, was used firstly by Herbert Spencer). Also, Darwin never speaks directly of where humans fit into this theory (british politeness and dapper sensibilities coming in), but it is the inevitable conclusion drawn from the implications of his theory that becomes the elephant in the room.

I can’t say that this book is accessible to a casual reader and it requires some dedication to get through. Every page is very dense and requires concentration to digest, rather than merely skimming. Now that I’m finished though, I can see the value and importance of the work. It is hard for a modern reader to grasp that truths which seem self-evident now were once inconceivable and indeed avoided despite the evidence. ’The Origin of Species’ is the dogged, diligent explanation of certain inescapable facts that were being shied away from because of taboo. When you reach the end, you can see how our view of our role in life and nature was simultaenously expanded and shattered by the concepts espoused in this text.

♥♥♥½ – 3½/5

So, I’ve read ‘The Origin of Species’ now, but I’m a little stumped at what to read next on the subject. If anyone could point me in the direction of good, reliable, modern books on evolution, I’d be delighted.

The Story of My Experiments With Truth

Author: M.K Gandhi

Publisher: Penguin

Date Published: 1927-1929

Pages: 454

Gandhi succeeded in uniting India in a national movement and did as much in the first half of the twentieth century as any other single individual to change the course of history. In this classic autobiography, first published under the title ‘The Story of My Experiments With Truth’, he recounts the story of his life from boyhood and child marriage, through the first stirrings of non-violent protest in South Africa to the early phase of his part in India’s fight for independence.

I came to this book in what I suspect is the most common way for westerners – I watched Richard Attenborough’s ‘Gandhi’. I am not a person who is generally moved by stories about ‘do-gooders’, as they are usually characterised by idolising the subject beyond the reality of their own humanity. But there was something about ‘Gandhi’ that interested me. His advocation of non-violence and his ability to inspire others to risk their life for this ideal was new to me.*

‘The Story of My Experiments With Truth’ is about Gandhi’s physical, social and personal experiments in cultivating purity and removing any falsehood from himself and those around him. This is the emotional journey that led him to be capable of the public brilliance he is renowned for.  These goals and experiments are described in great detail, particularly his self imposed dieting, fasting and abstinence. Though the book loosely follows chronological events Gandhi often side tracks to explain concepts about his spiritual quest for Truth in great detail (especially in the latter half), rather than focusing on events of historical precedence. Truth is the central theme and the elusive guiding force of this autobiography. ‘Satyagraha In South Africa’ would be better for readers who are interested in a chronological recount (Gandhi even notes this himself).

In the movie, Gandhi was presented as a jovial, humble and fiercely determined person. This side is in the autobiography, but the real Gandhi (or the way Gandhi sees himself) is different in many ways.

Firstly, I was surprised at how relatively normal Gandhi was when he was young – I was particularly shocked at his nervousness and inability to publicly speak (he failed miserably in many of his first attempts as a Lawyer). The most telling factor of his difference though was his dedication to his family and his extremely strong obsession with the idea of being truthful.

The aspect of this book that I didn’t expect was its unintentional exploration of absolutism. ‘The Story of My Experiments In Truth’ is the study of a brilliant mind; and it shows how brilliance comes hand in hand with an extreme character.

Gandhi has true belief in his actions, particularly his idea of God and Truth. Thankfully his obsession was directed in a way that benefitted mankind, yet it was sometimes scary to behold some of the thought processes and actions this conviction caused in private. He can be very obstinate, particularly in the face of modern medicine, and indulged in a great deal of experimentation that could have had deadly consequences based on his gut instincts and faith.

For instance, when they were traveling between India and South Africa his son broke his arm. A doctor bound it on the boat, but told Gandhi to seek proper medical advice once ashore. Instead Gandhi decided to use the ‘earth method’ (binding the affected area with mud inside the bandage) and didn’t see the doctor.

Another example of this is when his son catches typhoid. Gandhi doesn’t allow him to eat milk or eggs, despite recommendations from the doctor that he would likely die if he were not allowed (a similar situation occurs after his wife has an operation). Despite this Gandhi is adamant that they should not be allowed animal products. Gandhi also seems far more concerned with his reputation and his perception of God’s will than his son’s life. It brings into question the extremities of faith and whether personal honour can be inevitably selfish. Also, in an extremely perplexing turn of hypocrisy Gandhi is later put in the same position, but relents and accepts goat’s milk (apparently he had an important Lawyers case to see through. I’m sure that his wife and son didn’t have anything important to do though).

On the subject of his wife Gandhi is contradictory. At times he can write passages of stunning progressiveness:

‘…it was a time when I thought that the wife was the object of her husband’s lust, born to do her husband’s behest, rather than a helpmate, a comrade and partner…’

and then two paragraphs down can write this:

‘Kasturba herself does not perhaps know whether she has any ideals independently of me. It is likely that many of my doings have not her approval even today. We never discuss them, I see no good in discussing them. For she was educated neither by her parents nor by me at the time when I ought to have done it. But she is blessed with one great quality to a very considerable degree, a quality which most Hindu wives possess in some measure. And it is this: willingly or unwillingly, consciously or unconsciously, she has considered herself blessed in following my footsteps, and has never stood in the way of my endeavour to lead a life of restraint.’

(As a side note, I would love to read an autobiography from Kasturba’s point of view).

The focus on his ideals sometimes causes neglect of his family in favour of the wider community. For instance, Gandhi would rather spend a couple of hours a day volunteering at the local hospital than educate his children and wife – though it is debatable which is the more moral action. This is a perplexing and interesting theme in the book – is it moral for a person to spend so much time fixated on their own family? Or is it selfish for Gandhi to seek the self gratification of community service when home life is left wanting?

It is because of these seeming contradictions that the autobiography is engaging. Sometimes Gandhi’s ability to make mistakes (indeed, to be human instead of Christ like) endears you, other times it makes you want to kneecap him, especially when he has such high demands of perfection in others. There was a particular scene where he physically punished a student during a class, which was quite amusing, because it left Gandhi, the uber pacifist, confused and irritated over his use of force to solve the problem.

The autobiography is also a book capable of breathtaking insight. It is in essence the road less travelled. Gandhi’s life is that of an excercise of the human will trying to control the darker side of our nature. He has a decency that disarms the tendency in man to be mean natured to other people, which he has grown through a diligent dedication to the principles of simplicity, honesty and charity. Despite my criticisms of his extremism, the results of his life practice are truly astounding – this is a man who would work without remuneration as a lawyer, fearlessly nurse people infected with the plague and would rather die than take a life. It is an invaluable in look at the evolution of human psyche – perhaps the next step for human consciousness. I have to admit, many of his demands repulse me because of my baseness. The idea of giving up sex, food and every sensual pleasure is not only beyond me physically, but also even imaginatively. It is debateable whether giving up these passions is the key to becoming more humane or whether it is one method amongst many.

I don’t know if I could really recommend this autobiography to other people as ‘a good read’. It has a lot of faults that will stop a normal reader, or even a fan of Gandhi, from eating it up. It is not as brilliantly or charismatically written as other autobiographies, such as Malcolm X. Gandhi has a relative ease with words, but his style is sometimes a little jarring. There is a sense of ‘I went here and then I went there’. Other people are somewhat faceless and apparently everyone tends to speak and behave in a manner exactly like Gandhi. Because of this, the long lists of names are confusing and its very easy to forget who people are.

Yet despite all this I feel that the book has a lot of value, not so much in its immediate content, but in the way it causes you to think afterwards. Ever since I read it, I often ponder many of his theories and questions, particularly on vegetarianism and the limiting of sensual fulfilment. I wonder if he is correct and whether I could be capable of fulfilling any of his demands - or whether I would want to.

 ♥♥♥ – 3/5

* I am aware that Gandhi is certainly not the first to espouse teachings of non-violence, Jesus being the most prominent example of this ideal in western consciousness. I refer to it being a ‘new’ concept in action. I don’t know of any person or group in recorded history who has used this ideal in reality, rather than it being an abstract gaol. Most Christians can’t even stand properly administering the golden rule, as evidenced by their treatment of homosexuals, let alone the ideal of turning the other cheek. The idea of a Christian allowing themselves and their family to be brutally murdered by the government rather than defend themselves physically seems fanciful.

I bring this up because it is really interesting what you learn about the world, or more precisely the shady back streets of the internet, when you start a blog. Often what you post doesn’t reach the audience you imagined or brings in a different kind entirely.

Since publishing the Lolita review I have unfortunately learnt that the (ever so wacky) Japanese have an entire comic genre dedicated to the animated fondling of children, named ‘Lolita’ or sometimes ‘Lolicon’, and that I have brought the interests of that audience to my website accidentally. Fantastic, isn’t it?

The top searches for my site end up being:

lolita
american psycho
gothic lolita
magic lolita
black magic

Some of these are due to the Gothic Lolita fashion style and the book review I did of it, but also amongst this are things like lolita sex, lolita rape, underground lolita, lolita incest, naked lolita and many other weird combos of the word Lolita. This rabid preoccupation for Lolita on the internet has probably given me half my traffic (*hangs head in exasperation*), but most of them probably would have realised the post was about an actual book and closed the window immediately anyway (thank god!).

Anyway, Lolita remains my most popular post (with probably 1% being readers interested in the book). My top five rating book reviews are:

Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
American Psycho – Bret Easton Elis
Black Magic, White Noise
Cooking: A Commonsense Guide
Fusion Junction 1

It is surprising what is and isn’t popular amongst your posts. You’ll find that something you thought would definitely bring in the crowds, such as Presidential Material: Barack Obama (during the election season) and Lady Chatterley’s Lover goes cold (who doesn’t like reading about ladies getting off with gamekeepers?). Others that are seemingly obscure, such as ‘Black Magic, White Noise’ and Mucha, receive a great response. Though I have never bothered planning my reviews around what I thought would get good hits (I just write about books that produce some kind of response in me), I now know that even if I had tried I would have failed miserably. It’s utterly unpredictable.

My sister is bugging me to read Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series because she thinks I will get a lot of hits – but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Not only have I already been told the entire story, been forced to watch the first few movies (which were terrible), I’ve also read about two pages of my friend’s copy of the first book. It was average writing at best – only a person who doesn’t read anything would be impressed by it. I couldn’t be bothered wasting precious hours of my reading and living time on it.

So what have we learned? Mostly that people on the internet are not really interested in politics or 20th century industrialised England, but they are very fond of cartoon kiddie porn, psychotics, vampires and cooking. Seems about correct.

Date Published: 2008

Pages: 272

‘As a chef, I work at a thousand miles an hour, but when I’m at home I want to slow down.’

My Father received this book for his birthday, but although he cooks like a madman he doesn’t actually use cookbooks and he hates Gordon Ramsay with a passion (present FAIL!). We don’t own any of his books or watch his TV shows, so this is my first intimate experience with his franchise. ‘Cooking For Friends’ is meant to be a look into what Gordon prefers to cook at home for his family and friends.

The introduction comes across as contradictory, disingenuous and strangely random. He makes a point of talking about his family life, despite a very public affair. I have no idea whether Ramsay is or isn’t a good parent, but it seems a bit rich yapping about how ‘his kids do the washing up’ (eg. ‘keeping it real’) while he is apparently doing his part by chasing skirt. He also makes a point of complaining about trendy food and venerating traditional British dishes before including a recipe for Pear Tart Tartin (perhaps the most ‘Frenchest’ and triendiest dessert at the moment in the restaurant world).  

The intro also begs the question – why does Ramsay attempt to create this cozy ‘I’m good fella after all’ atmosphere? The man is world renowned for being a very mean twat - it’s why some people actually love him and why the rest of us hate him. It’s unneccessary, and indeed counterproductive, for him to try to convince us that he is a good human being/father underneath. The people who like him never needed him to be good and the people who don’t like him understand that it’s all bull. The PR people who wrote these paragraphs should be taken out and given a beating.

On to the recipes themselves, which are divided into the usual categories:

• Hot and Cold Soups
• Pasta and Grains
• Fish and Shellfish
• Meat and Poultry
• Pies and Tarts
• Vegetables and Salads
• Puddings and Ices
• Chocolate and Coffee
• Basics

The title page for each section lists the recipes, which I haven’t seen before and is quite helpful. The edge of the right hand page also has the recipe title for easy location while flicking through the book. The layout of the recipes keeps the explanation and the instructions separate. This is extremely important when in the middle of cooking, but isn’t necessarily noticed when browsing. The instructions themselves are clear and to the point. The colour scheme is centred on calm, varying greys, which is a stylish, solid and satisfying choice for a cookbook. It’s very relaxing on the eyes. The photography is crisp and planned, but not offensively so and also features a lot of grey.

Not every recipe has a picture, which is disappointing. This would be forgivable (it isn’t mandatory for recipe books to have images for everything, though it seems to be expected now) if Ramsay didn’t have portraits of himself staring strangely at the camera (see the cover for a preview – you get this about eight more times) or attending a cliched ‘al fresco’ lunch with friends (how European!).

I imagine that Ramsay’s response would be that people are purchasing this book because they like him - it is a celebrity cookbook after all. There is some logic in this justification. It is up to the reader to decide whether they prefer the chef’s cooking style or the chef’s image and lifestyle when choosing cookbooks. Or more to the point whether they prefer actual recipe images or Gordon’s head.

There is the occasional flash in the pan that shows the brilliant culinary capabilities of the man. The soup section in particular shines out – the ‘Jacket Potato Soup’ featured in the image seems astounding and the ’Broccoli, Stilton and Pear Soup’ is very elegant. Of great potential deliciousness are ‘Corn-Fed Chicken Legs With Braised Peas and Onions’, ‘Goat Curry’, ‘Raised Game Pie’ and ‘Wild Mushroom Tart With Parmesan and Walnut Pastry’. They risk sounding a little fancy, but are grounded in the fundamentals of fantastic flavours.

However, the recipes are mostly classics with Gordon Ramsay quirks added. He includes his own version of Laksa for instance – why would we need a millionth version of that recipe? All good food revolves around the classics of each culture. But if the author can’t bring something new to the table (literally) then should they produce a book of recipes?

For this book to be enjoyed, one has to remember that Gordon Ramsay is a feckless arsehole. You must ignore all his written material except for his recipe instructions, because anything else has no worth. The production design team that put this book together is of great talent though. The recipes are solid, but not exceptional, and that even a Ramsay fan may find that his other books offer more.

♥♥ – 2/5