Category Archives: Library

Great books

Scott at the Fat Guy and I agree that Lonesome Dove is a great novel. One of the best, surely. But we part company on Blood Meridian. I enjoyed it, in a manner of speaking, but I don’t see how any novel about scalphunters could be considered great. Except that it’s probably alone in the category. I can’t think of another one. I would recommend The Brief History of The Dead. Meanwhile I’m enjoying Kavalier & Clay and looking forward to Rubicon, a much-praised non-fiction narrative of the fall of the Roman Republic.

Another bright shining lie

Caught the lede review in the latest issue of the VVA Veteran magazine of "Tree of Smoke" and thought, well, that might be worth a read. A bit off-putting, however, was the suggestion that it was the definitive novel of the war, in part, because its author–like Stephen Crane–never served. Uh oh. A book pasted together from histories, movies and other novels. Yuk. Then I found the glowing NYTimes and WaPo reviews and the transmission of my doubt slid up into fifth gear. These champions of the Left wouldn’t like any book about the war unless it presented it as hopelessly immoral (their own standard and long cherished narrative), and sure enough, the WaPo’s review concluded that the book’s soldiers are like depraved Iraq veterans (not the "decent ones," who want to come home, you see) who keep going back for more, despite the foolish venture, etc. Criticism is an industry, like publishing, and the critics often only wash the hands of the folks who send them free copies. They also prefer to travel in packs. So I went looking for a maverick and found this guy. I even liked his headline, a reminder of another singleminded upholding of the Left’s narrative. So I’ll skip the smoking tree, which probably isn’t any more of an original reference than to a untoward napalm strike, anyhow. The smell of etc. in the morning.

Buck a gallon gas

Grocery shopping the other evening at H.E.B. I noticed a new Jack Reacher novel, "Echo Burning," by Lee Child and succumbed. Ex-Army MP Reacher is interesting, the plots too, and this sucker, actually published in 2001, is no exception. The story is set in Texas, which Child, who I have read has abandoned his Brit home for life in New York, imagines in a fairly well-rounded fashion. It starts out, predictably, as homogenized redneckland where the minorities are oppressed, but gets more accurately diverse and complicated, as it moves along. I did stumble over one detail early on. There may be more but I haven’t finished it yet. Reacher stops in an Exxon station in West Texas and fills his 20-gallon tank for twenty bucks. I had to reread it to make sure I hadn’t read it wrong.  Maybe Child thinks we refine our own oil to keep the price down? Uh, no, we’re using Hugo’s Venezualan product like everyone else, and buck a gallon gas disappeared in, oh, about the 1970s.

The Color of Magic

Until I saw a post the other day on Mr. Goon’s Simply Jews about how author Terry Pratchett had fallen victim to Alzheimer’s, I had never actually heard of Pratchett. Well, I may have heard of him and forgotten it, but I certainly never read any of his 33-and-counting Disc World fantasy-scifi novels. Now I have. The Color of Magic, circa 1983, was mildly amusing. Rincewind the failed wizard is charming. So is Twoflower the tourist and his sapient and fiercely loyal luggage. I even think I see a few precursors to Harry Potter. I assume the series will get better. I believe I will venture into the second book, the Light Fantastic. See what the blogosphere is good for? Besides social and political commentary or, occasionally, even actual news, I mean.

The Yiddish Policemen’s Union

What if Israel had been born and then died, all in the same year of 1948? What if the Jews who survived the Holocaust moved instead to a sliver of Alaska, where they lived for sixty years until their temporary domain reverted to the rest of the state, dooming them to wander again? Eqypt, Spain, Germany hadn’t worked out. Now their Alaska home was being razed around their ears. This is the premise of Michael Chabon’s novel "The Yiddish Policemen’s Union," a noir detective story about a double homicide–a Super Cub bush pilot who might have been a lesbian, and a mystical rabbi’s son who might have been the Messiah. Funny and sad, peppered with Yiddish slang, it’s also a love story about a homicide detective and his boss, who happens to be his ex-wife. Fortunately there’s a happy ending, but I’ll leave you to find it on your own. It’s a worthy excursion.

Tale of Two Cities

This is one of Chas Dickens’s books I never read. Probably the most often quoted ("It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…"), especially in the preamble to annual corporate reports, but possibly the least widely read. So I’m remedying that for me via this service which dispatches installments via email five days a week. I’m on No. 10 of 170 today, and enjoying the tale of Mr. Lorry and Miss Manette.

The first practical transistor

"On 16 December 1947, William Shockley, John Bardeen and Walter Brattain succeeded in building the first practical point-contact transistor at Bell Labs."

That’s from Wikipedia’s entry. The full background story, proceeding from the radar work that helped win World War II, is in Robert Buderi’s 1996 book "The Invention that Changed the World: The Story of Radar from War to Peace." It’s a good, if necessarily a bit technical, read. I recommend it in this month of the sixtieth anniversary of the transistor, the development that, among many other things, allows me to write these postings to be read by folks on the other side of the world.

Via Instapundit