8

Unpacking My Library: Architects & Their Books by Jo Steffens

I picked up this book last Sunday, realizing that I was closing in on yet another crazy work week & hadn’t read anything in weeks-
it was a heart felt attempt to get back on schedule.

But who would have guessed it.
Reading, even short essays -
well it takes time.
Time, which I’ve been painfully short on lately.

That being said,
I took an extra long time with this gem* 
& will probably never be done with it
or it’s lovely pages filled with photos of personal libraries-
hundreds upon hundreds of book spines to explore.
(swoon)

This is one of those books that I will pull from the shelves over and over again.
Choosing my next read from it’s pages.
Rereading the smartly chosen articles for something I may have missed
beautiful nuggets of how these books have touched their readers.

“Harold and the Purple Crayon is the ultimate dream of architecture- you can draw your world the way you want it to be.”
- Tom Williams and Billie Tsien

This is usually about the time I tell you how much I was disappointed with [some horrible, unforgivable thing].
Not to fail you in my discontent
but I cannot say enough, how I loved this series of essays.

I loved pawing through all the images of other people’s libraries.
Joyful in discovering new titles & old favorites nestled within these personal spaces.

Plus the resounding theme of this book is something that I’ve believed for a long time; 
our books help us perpetually form who we are
and serve to inform what we create.

One of my all time favorite activities is to finger the books on my friend’s & newly made acquaintances.

Ok - I will touch any one’s books.
Any one’s

And with good reason.
I think you can learn a lot about a person just by looking at their books.
And even more, like magic, talking to people about their books opens up more opportunities than any other object/means, to make real connects to others.

Most often than not, hearing someone speak about their favorite book or favorite author makes you feel more for the people and things you love
and then, there are those very rare moments when you are aware enough to know, & you recognize the influence.

This book is a collection of those moments
people are being asking to recognize these influences.
To better understand themselves
their stuff
and how that has helped them form a world around them.

And I love it for that.

PS- I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO SEE YOUR LIBRARIES!!!!
PHOTOS WELCOME

*i expected to read & write about it last week

7

Sister Bernadette’s Barking Dog
The Quirky History And Lost Art Of Diagramming Sentences

For the record
I cannot, in fact, spell.

I’m fairly certain that this is the basis of my love of sarcasm & my possibly charming- possibly obsessive use of swear words.

And although I regularly slaughter words and am abusive to all sorts of punctuations & grammar, my love of language (ours & the others that I tempt international incident by endeavoring to learn) grows increasingly as the years go on.

Perhaps its this love & the inherit guilt I feel for my involvement in it’s slaughter that I was drawn to this weeks pick; a lovely, vivid elementary-wall-blue coloured cover with stark, white dashed lines.
True-

I had this romantic notion that held within it’s pages would be my language salvation; that upon completion, I would no longer be a slaughterer of language, but at the very least a language warrior- willing and ready to destroy my former language debaser -and hopefully, a sentence diagramming terror, feared by my friends and family, uninvited to holiday parties.

Alas.*

Amazingly, none of these exuberant expectations were enough to ruin the brilliance of this charming story & the magnificently non-eccentric people who make up the history of sentence diagramming.

The author, Ms. Kitty Burns Florey, is an editor by trade & a word nerd, it would seem, by her birth into the catholic school system.
In this book, she has put together a magical foray into the world of language that is both whimsical & sincere.

She takes the time to meander through great author’s creations as an illustration that sentence diagramming is meant to illuminate the architecture, the inherit beauty of words built upon each other, forming complex & poetic sentences- not, as may be believed, a means to creating great writing or even great writers.

Her story & homage to her teacher Sister Bernadette; her emphatic & structured love of diagramming are beautifully woven into a narrated history of this much beguiled art.
And this little ode to grammar makes for an amazingly great read.
Something that I would recommend to anyone who has a love for grammar.

Which, I have to add, if you are reading my posts
I question sincerely….


*I am still an editors worse nightmare (or perhaps, their most beloved child, as I am likely their industries bread & butter- I have no illusions about my language catastrophes…)

6 Snark -David Denby

Let me save you some time. 
You’re got shit to do.
Assumptions to run with.
Meals to discuss over twitter.

This book; this essay in it’s 7 parts*
does no better to define snark within it’s pages than the publishers did with the bit on the back jacket:

“You recognize it when you see it: a strain of nasty, knowing, and snide abuse that has spread like pinkeye through the media and undermined our conversation. Snark flows freely when wit is replaced with seethe and snarl, bad feelings and mocking laughter. And it’s never been more prevalent.”

Snark really doesn’t do much more in it’s 122 pages to clear up the story of what is and isn’t snark & how it is ruining your life than to say that it is.

Sure, Denby’s able to spot snark & share tasty examples.
But there is no sense that he is willing to have a debate about snark is or what the subtitle of his essay means. More annoying, Denby seems reluctant to educate the reader on how to become better snark hunters themselves. He dances around clearly defining his subject, even going so far as to suggest that he doesn’t want to get into a debate over semantics.

He makes no effort to explore how to undermind this cruel & hurtful form of unintelligent criticism
- which again, his choice of sub-title suggests- 
would be the next step. 

He tells us it’s bad.
He gives us beautiful examples of snark at its finest.
But in the end, all that seems to have been elucidated is that satire and snark are not the same; that irony is good.
Oh & yes.
That snark is bad.

Yay!
Remind me again, what am I to do with this?

Hrrm. Well I guess I could become more embittered about how other people aren’t as skilled in recognizing this case by case defined ruiner of conversation as I now am suppose to be… avoid having a conversation with them.

Balls.
Obviously, I’m no better informed on how to talk about or combat this force than I was before reading this ‘essay’.
It’s even possible that all it has done is give me reason to believe my own, poorly informed ideas of what constitutes snark because, I too, find Colbert funny.

And besides me being $12 poorer, I still am unsure of how snark is really (air quotes) bad; how it is really ruining our conversations.

I bought this book because I think this kind of discorse is destructive to both the recipient & the deliverer. And Denby does not fail to present loads of anecdotes that support some of these fears.

However, there isn’t much more to his book on snark than this.
And offering anacdotes on a topic which you are unwilling to debate semantics- makes for a poor excuse of an essay.

It’s also worth noting- this book is a National Bestseller.
My more cynacle side wonders if the author picked a hot buzz word and then wrote on it in the hopes that by the time the reader got annoyed & put the book down they would have already completed the purchase. 
(ca-ching)

The idea of writing on Snark, of defining it & exploring its involvement in national discussion, journalism & debate is something that I think is worth more of an effort than this book has made.
If this subject really is ruining our conversations, then it’s worth the work to put together something worth talking about. 
But Denby fails to offer any room to have a real discussion on snark here.

He does succeed, however, in inspiring me to create a new book buying criteria.

*cleverly referencing the Carrol poem, “The Hunting of the Snark”- which i may add, was extreemly entertaining & worth the read but as it has nothing to do with the meaning of snark reveals more about the author’s ability to reference culturally meaningful references to fill in the blanks on his own inability to properly form and present an arguement

(ps- i am an asshole)

O I’m finding that a good deal of the writing process is resisting the urge to write about how you have nothing to write about or to write about how you have to punish yourself, listening to “Highway to the Danger Zone” over and over again, just to find the motivation to write anything at all.

Week 5 of 52: The Right Stuff by Tom Wolf

I don’t know anyone who grew up in the 70’s or 80’s who wasn’t in love with the idea of going to space.
Of being an astronaut.

There was a handful of my friends who’s parents lamented got to experience the ultimate dream of all children of that time, packaged &  presented by Space Camp.

We were going to live on the moon
& travel to mars & beyond.
It was going all Ray Bradbury & Space Odessy when we grew up.

And then, in 1986, the Challenger blew up before our eyes.
In less than 20 seconds we witnessed just how delicate our dreams were, perched atop of those giant rockets; just how much risk was involved in our vissons of the future.
And most of us turned to other futures.
Most, much more terestrial in nature.
Hover boards & solar cars.

We had somehow forgotten, with all the fanfare & celebrity, that to leave the earth was an act of violence.
That every departure from earth’s surface required a whole lot of engineering & science and then, perhaps, something else.
Something a little bit magical.
Something mythical, really.

The test pilots, the first to leave the ordinary bounds of this earth, never missed this.
They had a name for it.
And it came with code of silence.
Never take claim of it aloud.
Never take it for granted.

A pilot either had it or they didn’t.
And it could be lost at any point.
But it was the thing that made all the difference.

The initial seven who were chosen for Project Mercury were selected in part for this mythical, right stuff.
They were first American to travel into space.
The first astronauts.
And celebrities of the day.

The nation revered them as heroes.
Sure they were hot shots, play boys, & arrogant boy scouts- but they were willing to sit atop of giant rockets and be shot into space so we loved them.

Born from their bravery, were the inspirations of new technologies, new images of the future, & new areas to dominate over the Russians. ;-)

What we didn’t realize until the Challenger was their largest, most unspoken, accomplishment;
they didn’t die in the process.

Given how public the early space program was & how often the rockets attached to their crude crafts exploded,
(and how important a successful moon landing was to the Kennedy administration)
its a miracle that the early space program (and NASA in particular) made it through those early days at all.

That the space program flourished & permeate popular culture as it did in the late 70s & 80s;
that these men still are remembered & revered,
is as much a testimate to the science as it is to that mythical,
right stuff.

Week 4 of 52 - The Department of Mad Scientists: How DARPA Is Remaking Our World, from the Internet to Artificial Limbs

In the seventies and eighties, every child I knew wanted to be an astronaut; watching Mr Wizard & playing with rockets, sitting in the cold watching Hallie’s Comet bisecting the sky.
We drempt of finding new stars, of walking among them, of discovering new worlds & new civilizations.
To boldly go where no one had gone before.

wait, Hold on.
That’s Star Trek Next Generation.
Oh. shit…
Watched that show week after week & I never really got that bit.

We thought we were the first.
The first to dream of what came next.
How smart we were integrating new technologies into our everyday life.
Our computers & mobile communications.
Our GPS & real-time web.

What we’ve missed was this; every single one of our dreams (as well as most of the new billionaires’ inventions) have been built from the spoils of this crazy notion that research & development were paramount to us as a nation. And that government, specifically the Department of Defense, should take some of that lovely, Congressionally approved budget, & make the opportunity for the impossible to be possible.  

In 1958, a civilian from the corporate world stepped into the DOD & immediately set about creating a r&d lab that could make sure that America wasn’t in a race with anyone, but was instead, setting the standards.

In other words, although DARPA (originally ARPA) was approved based on the embarrassment of Sputnik, it would never be in the business of recreating or improving upon what others were doing. They would be working on creating new solutions for problems that they had yet to create.
And they would work with a sizable budget without the need to get project based approval from anyone else.

The Project Managers go straight to the Director & if the pitch was well received, the project would be given the green light.
Immediately.
Often with a budget in excess of 1 million dollars.
Often in less than an hour from sketches to funding.

One of DARPA’s most recent directors likened the best of his people to Sci-Fi authors.
Dreamers unhindered by concern of if something were plausible.
Think Jules Vern’s submarine -sure, we know its possible now, but at the time, the idea was more than just a little bit crazy.

These sci-fi worthy dreamers come into DARPA knowing that they only have 2-4 years to get something done. And once an idea has been born, will not take no for an answer.

They are the people who take $148 million & ask a single group to create a viable renewable fuel source in 2 years instead of taking that same amount and asking 12 groups to come up with a “plan” to create the same in a similar amount of time.

They get shit done.

With minimal overhead, & in all fairness, with surprisingly marketable results. In other words, it’s some of our goverment’s best spent money. With only 1% of 1% of the DOD’s budget, DARPA does in fact create game changing technologies every year.

They do it by being the home for dreamers
and by getting the bureaucrats the fuck out of their way.

And have been doing so since 1958.

I wish I could say that this book was a riveting good read, but in reality it works best as recruiting material. And I can’t really fault it for that. I did get that little flutter of excitement I haven’t had since I was a little girl. When the world’s possibilities were the stuff of science fiction.

I have to admit.
I’m sort of at a loss for words.
(which for those who know me, is oft not the case)

I had high hopes for this book.
High hopes for a book entitled “The Lost Art Of Walking” & what it could inspire & reflect of the world.

But then, just as it began.
Betrayal.

A book about walking written by an author who willingly lives in LA?
But nobody fucking walks in LA.
In fact, I’ve been led to believe that walking in LA is considered a criminal act.

What on earth can an author from LA say about this lost art other than to say:
“Damn, what a shame. No one walks in LA.
But you *can* walk in large cities like LA, New York, or London…
Sure most people don’t.
Still more won’t.
And you know what I’ve found? The stories of the place where you walk are often more interesting to tell than to talk about the science or history about walking itself.¹
Behold. The lost art of walking…
Watch me fill 200 plus pages with anecdotes about people who once walked & the places they walked.”

And that’s what he’s done.
200 plus pages of drivel about people who walked & anecdotal stories about walks the author has taken in LA, NYC, & London. Stories about hidden places where you may discover on foot, but are just as likely to ignore.

Now this is not to say that some of the stories aren’t compelling.
There are bits about competitive walkers that were quite amusing.
People testing their merits not with running, but with calculated & strategic endeavors to walk 1000 miles in 1000 hours or to walk across country in 100 days.
And these stories are worthwhile. They speak to a time past, when extreme sports were less indicative of overcoming fears, and much more about overcoming self^.2 However, these do not make up for the meaningless stories of Hollywood Star-walking tourist wandering about LA or the lack of any real or meaningful discussion of walking as an art, lost or otherwise.

The book reminds me of a college paper some poor professor had to read.
Well researched. Poorly executed.
And if to make my point, the author ends abruptly, not with any summary or final conclusive thought, but with pride over his well formed bibliography of other author’s takes on the subject of walking.

The only good that’s come from this book for me was the mostly unnecessary reminder that walking is good for clearing the head.
Something which, upon completing this sadly composed book, I’m suddenly in great fucking need.

¹DO NOT GIVE YOUR BOOK A FUCKING SUBTITLE IF YOU AREN’T PLANNING ON WRITING MUCH ABOUT THESE THINGS!!!

²seriously - if you think that 1000 miles in 1000 hours seems easy, try walking 5 miles in 5 hours - i promise you will find parts of you that will hurt far more than any 5 mile hike, no matter how arduous, has possibly inflicted.

Week Two: The Rest Is Noise*

600 pages on the history of 20th century music in 5 days?
Possibility:  Doable [insert caveat about probability here]
Pages to read per day:  aprrox. 150

The book’s magnificent & haunting cover had been calling to me for months. Surely, if I set my will to the task, I could do anything even when confronting a busy week…

I was mistaken.
I was sincerely, ridiculously mistaken.

Total pages read to date: 347 

Defeated & feeling more than a little bit like a failure, my salvation came on Thursday evening via a manifestation of the future.
A little tablet of beautiful, snowy white goodness.

My very own kindle.

I plugged the beauty in and set about to select the perfect replacement for my failure. It was time to forget & move on. But what to read?

Perhaps something lite & fluffy, with no residual aftertaste.
But wouldn’t that leave me feeling cheap?
In my current state of failure/vulnerability I decided that although time required I pick something under 300 pages, I could not deal with the emotional let down of a poor read. There needed to be substance to my rebound read.

Plus, I was a little nervous about my new reading companion.

With a conventional paper bound book, I knew what to expect. How the pages felt & responded to my touch. With this, my new toy, I had no way of knowing how long it would take me to find & get into a  comfortable rhythm.

But then again, what is this all about, if not exploring new challenges & learning more about the world & how to live in it.

It seems somehow fitting then that I reclaimed my victory over week 2 with our old, salty friend Churchill…

*UPDATE: WEEK TWO: Winston Churchill by John Keegan