Category: Reading

beware the golden compass (no, or at least for different reasons)

David Evans2 Comments

I’ve had a couple of people forward to me mass emails about the new Nicole Kidman movie coming out, The Golden Compass. Here is the essence of the emails:

It’s called The Golden Compass, and while it will be a watered-down version, it is based on a series of children’s books about killing God (It is the anti-Narnia). … The movie has been dumbed down to fool kids and their parents in the hope that they will buy his trilogy where in the end the children kill God and everyone can do as they please.

The email then directs me to Snopes.com, which confirms this as true.  (What is – in fact – true is that Pullman himself is anti-religious.) These emails have bothered me and I haven’t been able to enunciate why terribly well. Today I saw an essay by Laura Miller in the LA Times that captures many of my sentiments.

First, I believe people are attaching too much ideology / conspiracy to what is more likely Hollywood’s effort to make a big movie.

Most preposterous, of course, is the idea that anyone would make a $180-million movie with the purpose of tricking children into reading a seditious book. What self-respecting kid ever needed that much encouragement to ferret out whatever the adults are trying to hide?

Second, no one needs to “fool” the kids into reading these books.

Also — whoops! — no one’s been hiding “His Dark Materials.” To date, 15 million copies of Pullman’s books have been sold worldwide. “The Golden Compass” won not only the 1995 Carnegie Medal, a prize awarded by British children’s librarians, but also the “Carnegie of Carnegies,” as the public’s favorite book in the prize’s 70-year history. The final novel in the trilogy, “The Amber Spyglass,” won the Whitbread Book of the Year award in 2001, the first children’s book ever to do so. It’s safe to say that copies of the trilogy reside in every decent children’s library in the nation.

Finally, my experience in reading (okay, listening to) the books was that they are more against organized religion (which does have a mixed record, one must admit) than against God per se (even though some of the characters in the books and Pullman himself have claimed the latter).  And if my children are so on the edge that this fantasy movie is going to convert them to atheism rather than provoke a valuable discussion, then we are facing a deeper problem. (I’d be equally concerned if someone’s commitment to Christianity were based on C.S. Lewis’s Narnia chronicles, much as I love them.)

 A couple more choice excerpts.

Yes, it’s true, as the e-mails virtually shriek, that Pullman once told an interviewer “His Dark Materials” is about “killing God,” and that he wrote an op-ed piece describing C.S. Lewis’ “The Chronicles of Narnia” as “ugly and poisonous.” It’s also true that these statements have been taken out of context — not just out of the context of a particular interview or newspaper editorial, but out of the context of an entire culture, a culture of conversation, debate and consideration, rather than paranoia, alarmism and extremism.

…

Pullman also turned out to be no dogmatist. His practice of tossing out provocative statements struck me as a habit acquired during his years as a middle-school teacher, intended not to shut out opposing ideas but to flush them from the underbrush of adolescent inertia. He too is interested in what the other side has to say. This curiosity is in keeping with an ideal he calls “the democracy of reading,” in which “to-and-fro between reader and text” leaves each “free to engage honestly with the other.”

Now, you might not go to this movie because the reviews have been pretty mixed (50% on RottenTomatoes as of today). Stick to Enchanted (93%), which will teach your children about witchcraft and monarchy instead, since those are great values.

[If you’re a glutton for punishment, I wrote more about my views on Pullman’s religious arguments in my review of the third book in the trilogy, The Amber Spyglass. I also reviewed The Golden Compass and its sequel The Subtle Knife.]

book review: The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, by Michael Chabon (narrated by Peter Riegert)

David Evans1 Comment

I read and loved [repeat: loved] Chabon’s Pulitzer Prize-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. So when I had a gap in my audiobook queue and saw this at the library, I couldn’t resist. He didn’t disappoint.

deliciously literary detective story

Some years ago, Michael Chabon (pronounced SHAY-bon) purchased a phrasebook entitled “Say it in Yiddish.” He wondered what place one could travel to in which a phrasebook would be useful (as Yiddish is such a rapidly disappearing language) and wrote an essay about it [1]. Now he has gone on to write a detective novel that takes place in just such a place: Sitka, an imaginary homeland established for the Jews in remote Alaska (this was an actual proposal from the US government before World War II as a potential refuge for European Jews).

The story itself is a fun read, but that’s not what makes this book exceptional. It’s the language. First, Yiddish is interspersed throughout, including Chabon’s plays on Yiddish (cell phones are “shoyfers,” which is the Yiddish version of the Hebrew “shofar,” the ram’s horn used “in Biblical times chiefly to communicate signals in battle and announce certain religious occasions and in modern times chiefly at synagogue services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur” [2]). This results in, as the Slate reviewer writes, Chabon’s “paradox: a mass entertainment largely inaccessible to the masses” [3]. And yet, even for readers like me who know only a couple words of Yiddish, this smattering of foreign words somehow enhances the reading experience.

The same is true with Chabon’s marvelous way around metaphors. Not all of them bring a clear image to mind (“He talked like a sausage recipe with footnotes”), but they are so clever that I don’t mind the occasional interruption of the flow. To demonstrate, here are my five favorite metaphors from the book:

5. A narrow pile of dirty white brick and slit windows, three or four blocks off the tawdriest stretch of Monsatir Street, the place has all the allure of a dehumidifier.

4. He talked like a sausage recipe with footnotes. [Yes, I had to put it again. I have no idea what this means.]

3. Its Philipino-style Chinese doughnuts beckon like glittering sugar-dusted tokens of a better existence.

2. “See this, sweetness?” Bina has fished out her badge. “I’m like a cash gift: I’m always appropriate.”

and the very best:

1. A gun of wind has blown down from the mainland to plunder the Sitka treasury of fog and rain, leaving behind only cobwebs and one bright penny in a vault of polished blue.

If you like clever dialogue (sometimes a little too clever, but that – again – is a lesser evil), witty prose, and an exciting mystery, then read on. The climax is a little disappointing (only a little), but since the prose is the real star of the show, even that doesn’t take much away.

I listened to and recommend the audiobook (10 CDs), narrated by Peter Riegert. The reading is excellent, and the audiobook has an informative interview with Chabon at the end. I’ve only read one other Chabon book (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay); I enjoyed that one significantly more, but that’s a high bar.

Note on content: the book has a little violence and quite a bit of strong language, including significant profanity.

[1] “The Language of Lost History,” Harper’s, October 1997.
[2] “shofar,” Dictionary.com.
[3] Ruth Franklin, “God’s Frozen People,” Slate, 8 May 2007.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union CD: A Novel

My next audiobook is another attempt in Spanish, Daína Chaviano’s El hombre, la hembra y el hambre. Promising, eh? I can afford to listen to this stuff in Spanish since I only understand three quarters anyway…

book review: Lengthen Your Stride: The Presidency of Spencer W. Kimball

David EvansLeave a comment

I recently finished this history of the presidency of Spencer W. Kimball, president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from 1973-1985.  Here is what I wrote for Amazon:

part essential reading, part travelogue + an amazing CD-ROM

A few years ago, I read Edward and Andrew Kimball’s original biography of their father (Spencer W. Kimball, twelfth president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). I failed to examine the publication date before starting the book and so was deflated to find that it ended in 1977, the year before the landmark event of Kimball’s presidency, the revelation lifting the priesthood ban for black members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Ed has filled the vacancy with this second biography, covering the years of his father’s presidency (1973-1985). The result is mixed but ultimately invaluable. The five chapters (20-24) discussing the priesthood revelation as well as the run-up and aftermath of the revelation are essential reading in LDS history and very well done. (They brought my aunt literally to tears of joy.) These chapters make this book an essential complement to David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism, which gives a wonderfully insightful look on the dynamics of the priesthood ban in the 1950s. A later chapter (38) deals with Spencer Kimball’s disability in his final years, and Ed’s frank treatment gives an important insight into how the Church works in this context. Throughout the book, Ed gives us lots of details about changes in church policy which I found interesting as a younger member of the Church. Finally, the first appendix (“Personal Encounters with Spencer Kimball”) is essentially a tribute, using the experiences of many people with President Kimball to demonstrate the President’s many virtues. Ed doesn’t shy from his father’s flaws in the course of the book (although he is admittedly a sympathetic biographer), but I found this final, loving section particularly inspiring, reading how President Kimball’s love for all people and his hard work permeated his life.

Sometimes the book devolves into travelogue and gets tiresome, as in the chapters on the area conferences (32-34). Those chapters still have interesting stories and useful history, but they drag. The flaw I found most frustrating throughout is that the book has no footnotes giving sources. Especially in the chapters on the priesthood revelation, Ed quotes regularly and for the careful reader, not having a footnote immediately available can be annoying.

The book comes with a CD-ROM that contains all the footnotes and much, much more. It includes the “writer’s cut” of the biography (rather than the compromise between writer and publisher. Julie Smith, in her review of the book, has compared the two cuts and found that the additional material in the writer’s cut generally consists of (1) “fat that any good editor would have cut,” (2) “material that recounted differences of opinion between members of the Quorum of the Twelve and/or the First Presidency,” (3) material that is more “liberal” (e.g., expression of President Kimball’s sympathy for Sonia Johnson, an LDS supporter of the ERA who was excommunicated, (4) additional demonstrations of human weaknesses, and (5) “text on topics that might be embarrassing to the Church (failed policies, bad public relations, …Kimball’s suggestion that the priesthood ban may have been an error, etc.)” [1]. Although I wish that more of the material had made it into the published book, I am glad that we have all of this material available on the CD-ROM.

The CD-ROM also contains five other books (Camilla: A Biography of Camilla Eyring Kimball, Ed and Andrew Kimball’s previous biography in both Spanish and English, and two other books on Spencer Kimball (this and this), and The Writings of Camilla Eyring Kimball). It also includes brief audio clips (most shorter than a minute) to demonstrate President Kimball’s voice before and after his throat surgery and a host of articles about President Kimball in BYU Studies, Dialogue, and Sunstone (among others). I look forward to enjoying the CD-ROM for a long time.

[1] Julie M. Smith, “Book review: Lengthen Your Stride: The Presidency of Spencer W. Kimball,” Times and Seasons (blog), 12 October 2005.

Copyright © 2007 Deseret Book

best excuse I read yesterday

David EvansLeave a comment

He forgot an appointment. He’s late for work. His mother is calling him on the ultrasonic frequency reserved by the government for Jewish mothers in the event of lunch.

Awesome. From The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (p89).

And while I’m here, let me share a couple more metaphors.

Its Philipino-style Chinese doughnuts beckon like glittering sugar-dusted tokens of a better existence. [Truly spoken like a police officer!]

He talked like a sausage recipe with footnotes. [This is referring to a goy speaking Yiddish with a very academic style.]

Even though I don’t get all of Chabon’s metaphors, I really enjoy their creativity.

reseña del libro: La ciudad de las bestias, por Isabel Allende (dos palabras: estereotipado y aburrido)

David Evans9 Comments

Ya es obvio en el título que no me impresionó mucho este libro. No lo recomiendo para nada. Aquí es lo que escribí para Amazon:

bienvenidos a la selva de los clichés y del aburrimiento

Leí la mitad de este libro. Isabel Allende escribe con un español fácil de comprender para un lector (como yo) que no sea hablante nativo del español. El cuento promete ser interesante: un chico acompaña a su abuela a la selva amazona a encontrar “la bestia” (o sea, “bigfoot” en inglés). Pero no te asustes, cada persona en esta novela se conforma a su papel estereotipado. Los nativos son profundamente espirituales, muy pegados a la naturaleza, y sin egoísmo ningún. El antropólogo está pintado de una forma tan exagerada que me pareció farsa: solo habla de los nativos sanguinarios (quienes no lo son), tiene miedo de su propia sombra, y es altamente sexista. Las mujeres son sensatas y los hombres insensatos, etcétera, etcétera.Además, una vez que el grupo de exploradores se mete en la jungla, el libro se vuelve aburrido. Dos niños (incluso el protagonista) son secuestrados por unos nativos (pacíficos si no haces caso al secuestro) y Allende pasa mucho tiempo describiendo esta tribu idílica, todos compartiendo todo.

No es decir que nosotros en el oeste no podemos aprender de las culturas menos industrializadas. Seguro que sí podemos, pero el dibujo que pinta Allenda es tan blanco y negro que nada se parece a la vida real. Es una caricatura no más, pero no hace gracia.

[Es el segundo libro de Allenda que he dejado sin terminar. El otro fue Ines del alma mia, en el cual el personaje principal me pareció tan anacrónico que no lo aguanté. Algún día leo uno de sus libros clásicos, como La casa de los espíritus.]

Ciudad de las Bestias, La

a man who knows his way around a metaphor

David Evans4 Comments

I’m listening to Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, and I’m struck by this guy’s way with a metaphor. Two examples:

A narrow pile of dirty white brick and slit windows, three or four bloks off the tawdriest stretch of Monsatir Street, the place has all the allure of a dehumidifier.

and

His face is mostly jowl and his ridged forehead looks like one of those domed beehives you see representing industry in medieval woodcuts.

I heard the first one just as I returned from the store to exchange a humidifier, so it really hit home.  I have no idea what he’s talking about in the second one, but somehow it rings clever.

book review: how medicine gets better

David EvansLeave a comment

I just listened to the audiobook of Better, by surgeon Atul Gawande (capably narrated by John Bedford Lloyd). Gawande explores how behavioral innovation and medical organization improve medicine at least as much as scientific discovery. In his advice on being a positive innovator in the conclusion, one item that impressed me was his counsel to count something. “If you count something you find interesting, you will learn something interesting.”

Here is the summary of my thoughts on the book, posted on Amazon:

fascinating exploration of past and present improvements in medicine from behavioral innovation rather than scientific discovery

Gawanda is a surgeon and a skilled writer. This collection of essays explores the ways in which changes in medical behavior and organization (as opposed to new scientific discoveries) can lead to drastic improvements in health and survival. He explores a broad array of applications, from interminable efforts to eliminate polio in India and elsewhere to impressive innovations in front-line war medicine in Iraq to ways that hospitals have tried to get doctors to … wash their hands. Even though many of the essays were previously published (in the New Yorker), Gawanda has updated them and integrated them into the broader theme of the book.

Some of the essays stray from that theme, such as the one discussing medical malpractice, but each one is engaging. Gawanda is excellent at writing for a lay audience: I have no medical training and found the book completely accessible.

One of the principal messages, introduced early and revisited often, is that of “positive deviance”: the idea that wonderful changes come from identifying (and learning from) individuals who deviate from norms and achieve impressive results. In his conclusion, Gawanda gives some ideas for becoming a positive deviant in medicine and in life. One is to “count something,” building on the book’s examples in which measurement systems led to drastic improvements in performance: one example is the Apgar score for newborns; another is the publication of cystic fibrosis treatment performance across hospitals around the country. Gawanda goes on to give a compelling example of how his own measurement helped him understand how to reduce sponges getting left inside patients.

The audiobook published by Sound Library consists of 6 CDs (about 7 hours and 30 minutes). It has good, engaging narration by John Bedford Lloyd.