Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Book Review: Watergate

Watergate: A Novel by Thomas Mallon (New York: Pantheon Books, 2012. 448 pp)

Thomas Mallon is an American author whose notable works include Henry and Clara, Bandbox, and Fellow Travelers. A specialist in non-fiction, Mallon focuses his studies on plagiarism, diaries, and the Kennedy assassination. A contributor to The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, and The New York Times Book Review, Mallon earned his Ph.D. in English and American Literature from Harvard University. He has received the Guggenheim Fellowship, the Rockefeller Fellowship, and the National Book Critics award for reviewing. Currently, Mallon directs the Creative Writing program at George Washington University in Washington, D.C.

The Passive Voice 

A writing technique I learned much too late in my academic life, I still struggle with active voicing. By preferring active verbs over passive verbs, a writer provides strong and compelling language for the reader. As a simple illustration, consider these two examples:
  1. George passed the ball; 
  2. The ball was passed by George. 
In the active voicing, the first sentence offers clear and precise prose describing an action by a character. In the passive voicing, the second sentence presents George as a background character. Even though both sentences describe the same action, the active sentence feels clearer.

Much like sentence construction, character development requires activity. Author Donald Miller once tweeted,
“If a character in a movie doesn’t know what he wants, the story drags. The same is true in life.”
Truthfully, passive characters create a boring story.

Sadly, in Thomas Mallon’s work of historical fiction, Watergate, the characters appear passive as if the mounting evidence surrounding the Watergate scandal influences the characters into action, rather than characters influencing Watergate.

A Scandal from the Top 

Richard Nixon
Born over a decade after the events occurring in the wake of a June 1972 break-in of the Democratic National Committee (DNC) headquarters, I honestly admit to no rooting interest in the well-known controversy of Watergate. Housed within the acrid partisanship which permeates American society, the feelings of those who experienced the events must certainly equate to the party lines. As such, I do not accept Richard Nixon as the scapegoat for everything wrong with Republicanism or a victim of liberal politics.

Interestingly, Mallon decides to unveil the events of Watergate through a series of chapters containing multiple protagonists. With each chapter skipping a month or more ahead, Mallon reveals the dramatic events through susurrus dialogue between offending parties.

The Connecting Glue 

If I had to name a main character, Fred LaRue would earn the title. Present during the initial planning of the break-in and a crucial actor in the subsequent cover-up, LaRue forges the perfect bridge between the administration and the burglary.
“LaRue sat on the bed for a moment, silently reviewing the algebra that governed the room on the other side of the wall. Magruder hated Liddy. Mardian hated Magruder. Ehrlichman hated Mitchell. Mitchell hated Colson. And that was all before Friday night. He himself was a kind of lotion, a soother, the one most generally trusted because he was the one least thoroughly known” (41-42).


A Complicated President

President Nixon remains a complicated character, at times scurrilous and at others a fragile product of unalterable forces. Mallon illustrates this dichotomy well; he utilizes the First Lady, Pat Nixon, to describe the early days of the presidency:
“’I’m remembering a day late in ’68. A few weeks after the election. We were going from New York to Key Biscayne, and Johnson gave us Air Force One for the trip. We got on it together for the first time. And you know what he did? Dick?’
‘Tell me.’
‘He picked me up by the waist and spun me around. Twice. He hadn’t done that when we got the house in Whittier or even the one on Tilden Street, just a couple of miles from here. But that plane. That was carrying me over a threshold he could appreciate’” (216).
Here, Mallon carefully balances Nixon as a loving husband with Nixon as a power hungry politician.

Characters Influenced by Circumstance 

Watergate in 2 Covers
Despite these interesting character traits, passivity, like strong glue, connects the characters. Nobody truly feels guilty for the Watergate events because no single person feels directly responsible. With each character carrying substantial amounts of doubt, the circumstances surrounding the Watergate scandal act as the primary influencers in Mallon’s story. As an example, Rose Mary Woods, Nixon’s personal secretary cites the argument from authority as a defense against her guilt.
“If she passed the money on, would she be committing a crime? Would the lack of a specific instruction to have done so make her less guilty—or more? All her instincts spoke of the danger and foolishness of what she was about to do, but if this was the boss’s chosen course, she wasn’t going to second-guess him” (188).
By relaying guilt to her boss, Woods defends her actions as if she is incapable of defying orders. Interestingly, guilt exists in defying orders but not in covering up the scandal.

Ultimately, the same difficulties with a passive sentence exist in the characters of Watergate. A compelling character must act. Readers find entertainment in a driven character; they do not enjoy a character left swaying in the winds of lassitude. Even if Mallon intended to illustrate the nature of the political beast consuming the Nixon administration through no action of the characters, passiveness created a frustrating read. If you are interested in the Watergate scandal, Watergate might be an entertaining read. However, it did not do enough for me.

Verdict: 3 out of 5

What do you think? Did you experience Watergate? Do your political leanings influence your perception of Nixon? Can a passive character be intriguing?
Share your thoughts below.
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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Monday, April 16, 2012

Book Review: Manhood for Amateurs

Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son by Michael Chabon (New York: Harper Collins, 2009. 306 pp)

One of the most celebrated writers of his generation according to The Virginia Quarterly Review, Michael Chabon was born in Washington D.C. He earned his B.A. from the University of Pittsburgh and his M.F.A from the University of California, Irvine. Chabon published his first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, from his master’s thesis at the age of 25. His third novel, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, won the 2001 Pulitzer Prize. The Yiddish Policemen’s Union won Chabon the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award. He is married to poet Lollie Groth.


Humble Memoir

I’ve never been a fan of memoirs. It may sound somewhat conceited or judgmental, but my perception of memoirs tends to see the genre as a bit narcissistic. Memoirs typically promote the individual and great accolades throughout the journey of life; they are about “me”. That being said, if I ever wrote a memoir, it would be one in the vein of Michael Chabon’s Manhood for AmateursChabon’s memoir is completely different. It’s humble, and only functions to serve others.  

In his humility, he chronicles his extended adolescence, his mistakes as a father, his foibles as a son, and his pitfalls as a husband. By making himself look incredibly flawed, Chabon illustrates a caring husband, father, and son—a good, well-intentioned man despite his imperfections—who doesn’t always get it right. In the opening pages of the book, Chabon admits to being part of what he calls “the loser’s club”.
“Though I derive a sense of strength and confidence from writing and from my life as a husband and father, those pursuits are notoriously subject to endless setbacks and the steady exposure of shortcoming, weakness and insufficiency—in particular in the raising of children. A father is a man who fails every day. Sometimes things work out: Your flashed message is received and read, your song is recorded by another band and goes straight to No. 1, your son blesses the memory of the day you helped him arrange the empty chairs of his foredoomed dream, your act of last-ditch desperation sends your comic-book company to the top of the industry. Success, however, does nothing to diminish the knowledge that failure talks everything you do. But you always knew that. Nobody gets past the age of ten without that knowledge. Welcome to the club” (7).
Lucky Him

Chabon also admits raising children is a rather arduous task. Through introspection about his son, William, Chabon recognizes fatherhood, though hard, is worth it. Chabon finds himself a failure, but the successes along the way are worth the shortcomings.
“The daily work you put into rearing your children is a kind of intimacy, tedious and invisible as mothering itself. There is another kind of intimacy in the conversations you may have with your children as they grow older, in which you confess to failings, reveal anxieties, share your bouts of creative struggle, regret, frustration. There is intimacy in your quarrels, your negotiations and running jokes. But above all, there is intimacy in your contact with their bodies, with their shit and piss, sweat and vomit, with their stubbled kneecaps and dimpled knuckles, with the rips in their underpants as you fold them, with their hair against your lips as you kiss the tops of their heads, with the bones of their shoulders and with the horror of their breath in the morning as they pursue the ancient art of forgetting to brush. Lucky me that I should be permitted the luxury of choosing to find the intimacy inherent in this work that is thrust upon so many women. Lucky me” (19).
Grumpy, Simple Stories

I enjoy how Chabon uses deceptively simple essays to share treatises about life, fathering, and being fathered. The edge to his writing suggests he has been around the block, yet his pseudo-surliness leads to wonderfully poignant truths. Chabon gripes about the complicatedness of Legos, but the essay evolves into an exploration on the importance of imagination. He also humorously explains why his man purse (murse) is not feminine. And, in one of my favorites, a story of Chabon briefly meeting literary giant David Foster Wallace transforms into a story of his wife’s struggles with depression and anxiety.

Overall, Manhood for Amateurs is somewhat morose, which didn’t deter me from absolutely loving it. While the book isn’t something to which I would naturally have gravitated (the bargain rack made me pick it up), I’ve found Manhood for Amateurs to be one of the best non-fiction books I’ve read. Even women, who undoubtedly have a better reason for passing up the book due to its title, should read this book. Manhood for Amateurs is humbling, thought provoking, and thoroughly witty simultaneously. I think any man who is a father, or aspiring to eventually become one needs to read this book. Even more, any man who wants to be a good man needs to read Manhood for Amateurs, it will make you sincerely ponder who you are, and thank Chabon for making you do so.

Verdict: 4.5 out of 5
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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson


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Friday, April 13, 2012

Book Review: The Law of Love and the Law of Violence

The Law of Love and the Law of Violence by Leo Tolstoy; translated by Mary Koutouzov Tolstoy (Mineola: Dover Publications, 2010; originally published in 1948. 128 pp)

Leo Tolstoy is a late nineteenth century Russian novelist known best for War and Peace and Anna Karenina. In his youth, Tolstoy studied law at Kazan University. Tolstoy gained massive wealth from his fictional writing, and as a result, developed into a social reformer and Christian anarchist in his later years. Tolstoy died in 1910.

Letter from Birmingham Jail 

Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail” represents the most influential document from my undergraduate years. Read in conjunction with an ethics class, King’s words resonated in ways I had previously never felt. Penning the words behind iron bars, King urged his disciples to stand against injustice through non-violent resistance. He claimed people ought to speak against immoral laws and perhaps even break those laws in order to illustrate injustice. But, he argued, people must break those laws nonviolently, and must also accept the consequences of the laws they’ve broken. To fight evil with evil is to lose the principles you fight for.

King’s principles of nonviolent resistance trace back to the famed Mahatma Gandhi. Even though Gandhi receives justified attention for his philosophies of non-violent civil disobedience, his views trace back to the writing of Leo Tolstoy. Similar to tracing modern guitar players to the nimble fingers of blues musician Lead Belly, I am intrigued to trace the roots of an idea to its source.

Christian Anarchy: Love Instead of Violence 

With The Law of Love and the Law of Violence, Tolstoy promotes a society where love replaces violence. To be clear, Tolstoy views violence as an all-encompassing word. Violence certainly means bloodshed, but it also refers to any source of conflict occurring by force. Tolstoy observes a world specialized in violence:
“The mistake of all political doctrines, from the most conservative to the most advanced, which has brought men to their present lamentable condition, is the same: to keep men in society by the aid of violence so as to make them accept the present social organization and the rule of conduct that it imposes” (18).
For Tolstoy, no part of society escapes the rot of selfishness. Whether the Church, the marketplace, or government, society seeks violence to approve the way of life.

The law of violence has governed society for centuries, according to Tolstoy. Historically, humanity never ventures far from yet another war. Interestingly, Tolstoy points to the printing press as the foundation for a potentially pivotal change in society. He writes,
“In proportion as education has spread, as printing has replaced writing, the Scriptures have become more accessible. Men cannot help but perceive the striking contradiction between the order of existing things upheld by the Church, and the evangelistic doctrine that it acknowledges as being holy. Read and understood as it is, the Scriptures appear to be a frank and explicit denial of both the State and the Church” (26).
Finding accessibility to the written Word, the individual congregant uncovers alternative doctrines to the established Church. With the rise of Protestantism comes competing claims to the truth of Scripture. Because the Church no longer carries the exclusive right to biblical interpretation, the theological foundations for absolute love found in Scripture become known to the masses.

By properly understanding Scripture, Christians can challenge the status quo. Where violence surrounded Christian doctrine in the institution of the Church, the Gospel urges Christians to reconsider.
“The Christian doctrine, the real significance of which we are grasping more and more, teaches that man’s mission is to manifest ever better and better the Rule of all; and it is love that proves the presence of this Rule in us” (32).


Love: The Basis for Non-Violent Civil Disobedience 

Tolstoy purports if love becomes the singular governing rule, the relationship with society must fundamentally change. No longer can we operate businesses under mendacious principles; no longer can we seek warfare as a mode of justice; no longer can we seek change in light of injustice by replacing violence with violence.

Therefore, a Christian guided by love seeks to right injustice through non-violent means. Recognizing the consequences of non-violent disobedience, a Christian will gladly accept the injustice of jail time for the sake of exposing violence in the system.

Does such an example work? It is hard to say. Jesus willingly accepted the injustice of the Cross and the gospel found completion in the resurrection. The work of Martin Luther King resonates deeply in the American psyche. Yet, many Christians adhere to the long-standing tradition of just war theory. As for me, I align with King, Gandhi, and Tolstoy. Fight violence with love and courageously accept the consequences. If you are interested in non-violent disobedience as an ethical stance, I suggest reading The Law of Love and the Law of Violence.

Verdict: 4.5 out of 5

Where do you stand? Is violence ever admissible? Is the law of love too extreme? Do you agree with Tolstoy’s biblical interpretation?
Share your thoughts below.

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Posted by: Donovan Richards
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Thursday, April 12, 2012

Book Review: The Explicit Gospel

The Explicit Gospel by Matt Chandler with Jared Wilson (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012. 224 pp)

Matt Chandler is the lead pastor of The Village Church in Dallas, Texas. His sermons are among the top selling podcasts on iTunes, and he speaks at conferences worldwide. He lives in Texas with his wife Lauren, and their three children Audrey, Reid, and Norah.

Jared Wilson is the pastor of the Middletown Springs Community Church in Middletown Springs, Vermont. He is also the author of the books Your Jesus Is Too Safe: Outgrowing a Drive-Thru, Feel-Good Savior and Gospel Wakefulness. He lives in Vermont with his wife Becky and his children Macy and Grace.

Well Churched?

According to the latest Pew Report, 78.4% of Americans consider themselves Christian. Moreover, some have no idea why they went to church growing up. Church attendance rates drop dramatically when people enter their twenties, most likely because church is seen as an obligatory service to a God people don’t know. 

I still remember the last sermon I heard at the church I attended growing up. It was about why George Washington was a good man. Not Jesus, but George Washington. Not until I heard the gospel explicitly preached did I find the truth: Jesus. In Matt Chandler’s and Jared Wilson’s book, The Explicit Gospel, the authors outline why preaching the gospel explicitly and emphatically is important.

“My daughter was three, and it hit me that my kids were going to grow up in the church. That night for the first time I asked the question, ‘How can you grow up going to church every week and not hear the gospel?’ I quickly decided that these people [in my church who hadn’t heard the gospel previously] had heard the gospel but didn’t have the spiritual ears to truly hear it, to receive it. Fortunately, the Holy Spirit wasn’t going to let it go that easily. The question began to haunt me” (12).
Chandler and Wilson then outline how Christians should preach and hear the gospel on both the ground level (micro level) and the air level (macro level). In the gospel on the ground, they trace the biblical narrative of God, man, Christ, and response, and in the gospel on the ground, they look at the meta-narrative of the Bible’s story of redemption. 

Enter Grace

Perhaps the most poignant thing said in the gospel-on-the-ground section is after the authors outline who humans are (sinners).
“So far we have seen that the Scriptures reveal God as sovereign and glorious and tell us that his sovereign plan is to make manifest the supremacy of his glory. We have also seen that the Bible tells us that we fall short of God’s glory in our sinfulness, which is made manifest in our predisposition and efforts to worship things and people that are not God. Because God’s passion is for his own glory, then, and because he is perfectly righteous, his response to our idolatry is wrath, eternal condemnation administered by him in consigning us to eternal conscious torment in hell...Enter grace” (53).
Chandler and Wilson sketch the gospel of Christ’s grace and salvation in one of the most considered, poignant, and convicting ways I’ve read. An old idea we perhaps don’t hear often enough, the topic holds significant weight for me. The chapter on Christ is by far the most explicitly stated (most likely why the book is named what it is) I’ve heard in a long time, and the authors call for response.
“The gospel is such power that it necessitates reaction. Jesus Christ has worked such an outrageous wonder that he demands response, whether hatred or passion. Anyone ambivalent about what Christ has actually done just isn’t clear on the facts. To present the gospel, then, is to place a hearer in an untenable position. The heart of the hearer of the gospel must move, either toward Christ or away from him” (63).
Something for the Contemporary Church Goer

For the section on the Gospel in the air, Chandler and WIlson focus on the main narrative of the bible: Creation, Fall, Reconciliation, and Consummation. They also warn the reader about the dangers of exclusively focusing on either the Gospel in the air or the Gospel on the ground.

The Explicit Gospel is a well-written, biblically faithful and thorough explanation on what the Gospel is and how the Gospel should inform and transform people. Granted, the book does rehash some well-tread arguments and ideas (Creation-Fall-Redemption-Consummation), and painting the gospel as something in need of explicit statement is an Evangelical position dating back to the 1920s. But, at the same time, I think it is worth bringing the argument back, as Chandler and Wilson have obviously found the need to do so in their churches. Chandler and Wilson effectively argue their point in a well-thought-out way and will most likely advance the conversation of the Gospel to those who merely heard bland statements about Christ growing up. 

Myself, I was moved by this helpful reminder, as I perhaps don’t always present the Gospel as effectively and intensely as I should when leading others in my church. The authors gave me something to wrestle with and chew on by effectively identifying problems and systematically tearing them down. This is worth a read.

Verdict: 5 out of 5
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Posted By: Andrew Jacobson

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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Book Review: Strategy Safari

Strategy Safari: a Guided Tour Through the Wilds of Strategic Mangament by Henry Mintzberg, Bruce Ahlstrand, and Joseph Lampel (New York: Free Press, 1998. 416 pp)

Henry Mintzberg is the Cleghorn Professor of Management Studies at McGill University. He earned his doctorate from MIT and is the founding partner of CoachingOurselves.com.

Bruce Ahlstrand is a senior faculty member in the Business Administration program at Trent University. Graduating from the University of Toronto, the London School of Economics, and University of Oxford, Ahsltrand is considered an expert in strategic management and organization theory.

Joseph Lampel is Professor of Strategy and Innovation for Cass Business School at City University London. With a Ph.D. from McGill University, Lampel works with managers in the areas of strategy, project-based learning, and business innovation.


Don’t Mind Me—I’m Just Looking at the Animals 

The intrigue of a safari surrounds the possibility of gazing upon diverse wildlife inconceivable in daily life. Whether the lethargic reclining of a hippopotamus or the restless chatter of a primate, one could imagine a simple animistic existence. Acting as a metaphor for the contrasting philosophies of strategic management, Mintzberg, Ahlstrand, and Lampel utilize the safari as an image of the wilds of business management.

Strategy Defined 

Strategy Safari functions as a primer for the competing schools of strategy in business management. Mintzberg, Ahlstrand, and Lampel separate strategic management into 10 distinct schools of thought. But, before we explore the contrasting viewpoints, let’s consider the definition of strategic management.

Mintzberg, Ahlstrand, and Lampel define strategy as
“a pattern, that is, consistency in behavior over time… [strategy has] to form as well as be formulated… strategy is a position, namely the locating of particular products in particular markets… strategy is a perspective, namely an organization’s fundamental way of doing things the [company] way… [and] strategy is a ploy, that is, a specific ‘maneuver’ intended to outwit an opponent or competitor” (9-14).

Competitive Schools of Strategic Management 

With each school subsequently outlined, the definitions of strategy carry separate weight. For some, the formulation of strategy carries significantly more weight than the notion of outwitting the opponent. For others, “the company way” takes precedent over product positioning.

In brief, the authors outline 10 schools of strategic management:
  1. The Design School: Strategy Formation as a Process of Conception 
  2. The Planning School: Strategy Formation as a Formal Process 
  3. The Positioning School: Strategy Formation as an Analytical Process 
  4. The Entrepreneurial School: Strategy Formation as a Visionary Process 
  5. The Cognitive School: Strategy Formation as a Mental Process 
  6. The Learning School: Strategy Formation as an Emergent Process 
  7. The Power School: Strategy Formation as a Process of Negotiation 
  8. The Cultural School: Strategy Formation as a Collective Process 
  9. The Environmental School: Strategy Formation as a Reactive Process 
  10. The Configuration School: Strategy Formation as a Process of Transformation 
As a broad overview, Strategy Safari provides no clear thesis. Instead it describes the overarching field of strategic management offering evidence of the scholarship in each school as well as the pros and cons of each position.

The Whole Is Greater than the Sum of its Parts 

Therefore, it is hard to provide much of an examination of each school. But, do not rule out strategic management on the whole. Even with competing positions, the field offers much to consider.

Photo by Arno Meintjes
A school of thought, by definition, is divorced from reality. It exists in ivory towers, many steps removed from practice. Moreover, strategic management philosophy intentionally positions itself at different ends of the spectrum in order to differentiate from the crowd.

Therefore, a manager looking to implement strategy in business ought to consider the shades of gray in strategic management. Even though the authors split strategy formation into 10 separate schools, reality suggests that the field must be holistically considered.
“But those who have ultimate responsibility for all this—the managers of our organizations—can allow themselves no such luxuries. They have to deal with the entire beast of strategy formation—not only to keep it alive but also to help sustain some of its real-life energy. True, they can make use of the process in various ways: an elephant, after all, can be a beast of burden or a symbol of ceremony—but only if it remains intact as a living thing” (368).
Thus, don’t let the many cracks in the armor of strategic management in Strategy Safari deceive you. Behind the network of seemingly contradictory theories resides a careful apology for strategic formulation in business management. Just as a safari provides opportunity to observe a myriad of wildlife functioning together despite the diversity of the animal kingdom, so too do strategic management schools operate when considered holistically.

If you are a manager in need of further understanding of strategic management, Strategy Safari functions as an excellent primer.

Verdict: 4 out of 5
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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Book Review: Kluge

Kluge: The Haphazard Evolution of the Human Mind by Gary Marcus (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2008. 211 pp.)

Gary Marcus is a professor of psychology and the director of the Center for Language and Music at New York University, where he studies language and cognitive development. He is also the author of the book Guitar Zero: The New Musician and the Science of Learning.

The Not-So-Elegant Mind 

I read Marcus’ most recent book, Guitar Zero not long ago, and decided I liked what he had to say about cognitive development, especially in regard to how one learns music. In Kluge, Marcus gives an overview of the human mind, arguing it isn’t as sophisticated as we often claim.
“Where Shakespeare imagined infinite reason, I see something else, what engineers call a ‘kluge.’ A kluge is a clumsy or inelegant—yet surprisingly effective—solution to a problem” (2).
Photo by NASA
Marcus offers the story of Apollo 13 mission control engineer, Ed Smylie, as an example of a well-known kluge. By “MacGuyvering” the scenario, the engineers developed a far from graceful solution in which the astronauts fixed the faulty C02 on board with some items, chief among which were duct tape and a sock.

Marcus continues his thesis by outlining where kluginess and elegance coexist in many places. I’ll sketch out the memory, belief, and choice kluges, my favorite—and most personally enlightening—moments in the novel.

Memory Kluge 

I admit; I’m forgetful. I misplace my keys; I leave my phone in innumerable places, and if it’s raining, a miracle has occurred when I wear a raincoat. My memory is a constant source of disappointment. With contextual memory, neurons don’t always align properly.
“Context exerts its powerful effect—sometimes helping us, sometimes not—in part by ‘priming’ the pump of our memory; when I hear the word doctor, it becomes easier to recognize the word nurse” (24).
Marcus also notes what actually happens rarely matches with when it occurs as a common memory kluge. Generally, the more recent the event, the more vivid the memory. Once events are no more than a few weeks or months removed, the past blurs together. Perhaps more interesting, Marcus states that we rarely forget the things we want to forget and rarely remember the things we want to remember.
“What we remember and what we forget are a function of context, frequency, and recency, not a means of attaining inner peace. It’s possible to imagine a robot that could automatically expunge all unpleasant memories, but we humans are just not built that way” (38).

A Kluge of Beliefs

The elegance and kluginess of the human mind continues through the way we believe things. Marcus argues,
“No matter what we humans think about, we tend to pay more attention to stuff that fits in with our beliefs than stuff that might challenge them. Psychologists call this ‘confirmation bias.’ When we have embraced a theory, large or small, we tend to be better at noticing evidence that supports it than evidence that might run counter to it” (53).
Photo by Bill Ledbetter
Using a pastiche of horoscopes, Marcus illustrates his point.
“You have a need for other people to like and admire you, and yet you tend to be critical of yourself. While you have some personality weaknesses, you are generally able to compensate for them. You have considerable unused capacity that you have not turned to your advantage. Disciplined and self-controlled on the outside, you tend to be worrisome and insecure on the inside” (40).
In reading this statement, you might think, “Gee, the description sounds a lot like me!” But, in reality, Marcus compiled several horoscopes put together by a famed psychologist. The point being, we believe bland generalities to be directly aimed at us even when they aren’t specifically written for us.

Marcus also points to the logical syllogism, a highly evolved way of deductive reasoning. Even when we have little at stake, and when it doesn’t directly affect our ego, our knowledge contaminates our ego. Marcus provides two examples:
“All men are mortal                               All glorks are frum
Socrates was a man.                              Skeezer is a glork.
Therefore, Socrates was mortal.            Therefore, Skeezer is frum “ (60-61).
Both syllogisms follow the same structure, but if you insert new words into the major and minor premises, the argument makes little sense. We train our brains to do the syllogism on the right well, but it doesn’t make sense without our preconceived definitions of words we already know.

Marcus offers one more syllogism to further his point,
“All living things need water.
Roses need water.
Therefore, roses are living things” (61).
We are more apt to believe the argument because it works. Yes, roses need water! But, nonliving things need water too (Marcus offers the example of a car battery). The argument that all X’s need Y, Z’s need Y, therefore Z’s are X’s is logically unsound. According to Marcus, in favor of easier, prior beliefs, we often suspend a careful analysis of what really is.

Choice Kluge 

Lastly, the choice kluge is best illustrated in a a video that Marcus references in the chapter. A psychologist offers a child one marshmallow, offering a second marshmallow if the child maintains self-control until the psychologist returns. The psychologist then leaves the room, and comes back around 15-20 minutes later. During this time, most children eat the marshmallow.

“Giving up after 15 minutes is a choice that could only really make sense under two circumstances: (1) the kids were so hungry that having the marshmallow now could stave off true starvation or (2) their prospects for a long and healthy life were so remote that the 20-minute future versions of themselves, which would get the two marshmallows, simply weren’t worth planning for. Barring these rather remote possibilities, the children who gave in were behaving in an entirely irrational fashion” (70).
We all too often surrender our judgment to the subconscious, or blindly trust our instincts without actually thinking. For this reason, the choices we make are often wrong.


Humanity: One Giant Kluge

Marcus argues humans are really one giant Kluge. He states in the first page of the book that because we are so poorly-yet-elegantly made, we aren’t noble in mind as Shakespeare, the noble bard, would suggest. Kluge is a great read, offering some keen insight into the way the human mind works.

Verdict: 4 out of 5
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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson

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Monday, April 9, 2012

Book Review: Stanley Park

Stanley Park: A Novel by Timothy Taylor (Toronto: Knopf Canada, 2001. 432 pp)

Born in Venezuela, Timothy Taylor grew up in Vancouver, British Columbia. He attended the University of Alberta and Queen’s University. Taylor published his first novel, Stanley Park, in 2001. His two latest novels, Story House and The Blue Light Project were shortlisted for the CBC Bookie Prize. A winner of the Journey Prize, Taylor works as a contributing editor for Vancouver Magazine and has contributed to numerous magazines and newspapers.

Cascadia

Although I am an American, I consider myself, equally (if not more so), a Cascadian. Culturally speaking, I feel a closer affinity to British Columbians than Americans residing on the Eastern Seaboard. Even if my national allegiance lies with a New Yorker, my culinary tradition, weather, and regional tongue align with a Vancouverite.

Given the regional connections between Seattle and Vancouver, I thoroughly enjoyed Timothy Taylor’s novel, Stanley Park.

Culinary Crips versus Bloods 

Set in Vancouver at the beginning of the new millennium, Stanley Park tells the story of Chef Jeremy Papier. Upon completing training in France, Jeremy returns to his native British Columbia, inspired to run a restaurant imparting simple and locally rooted dishes for the Vancouver public. Jeremy’s inspiration extends from his culinary training.
“Crips versus Bloods. Crip cooks were critical. They fused, they strove for innovation, they were post-national. They called themselves artists. They tended to stack things like mahi mahi and grilled eggplant in wobbly towers glued together with wasabi mayonnaise, and were frequently suspicious of butter. Vegetarianism was an option for Crips but not for Bloods. Blood cooks were respectful of tradition, nostalgic even. Canonical, interested in the veracity of things culinary, linked to ‘local’ by inheritance or adoption of a culture, linked to a particular manner and place of being. Blood cooks liked sweetbreads and pot-au-feu. Bloods ate tacos, bratwurst, borscht. They used lard and as much foie gras as they could get their hands on. They made cassoulet to the recipe left by Louis Cazals and, depending on where the Bloods called home, they might like kimchi, salmon planked on cedar, fish stew with sausage, or twice-cooked duck.
Chef Jeremy Papier was Blood” (32-33).
Partnering with a talented culinary artist named Jules and funded by local entrepreneur and childhood neighbor Dante Beal, Jeremy opens the Monkey’s Paw Bistro.

The Kite of Debt 

Despite critical acclaim, debt mounts as Jeremy strains to keep the restaurant afloat.
“People rarely set out to kite in a controlled way. More often financial kites soar out of sight with terrifying speed, the virtual string burning through your fingers. Jeremy could remember precisely how his own went aloft. It started with his line of credit at the Toronto Dominion Bank, $230,000 guaranteed by Dante Beale” (54).
Struggling to survive, Jeremy soon finds the reins of his restaurant in the hands of Dante, his financier. CEO of Inferno Coffee, an obvious allusion to Starbucks, Dante represents everything Jeremy hates—the Crip to his Blood.

When a Blood Becomes a Crip 

A perpetual profit maximizer, Dante shuts down The Monkey’s Paw and remodels the restaurant for a grand opening as Gerriamo’s, a post-national restaurant and product of extensive market research. Dante maintains the employment of Jeremy as executive chef but the arrangement leaves Jeremy bitter and his friend, Jules, unemployed.

As Gerriamo’s grand opening inches closer, Jeremy plans the best menu he has ever prepared.

Stanley Park: A Homeless Sanctuary 

Photo by Trey Ratcliff
In addition to this narrative thread resides a secondary story surrounding Jeremy and his father, a professor studying the homeless of Stanley Park. Living with the park inhabitants, Jeremy’s dad receives uninterrupted access to these peripatetic people.

While studying, the professor encounters the story of the Babes in the Wood, Stanley Park’s unsolved murder mystery from the early 50s when the skeletons of two young boys were found in the dense forest of the city park.

Requesting library research from Jeremy, the father and son draw close as Jeremy relays information about the case and becomes accustomed to the inhabitants and dining rituals of Stanley Park.
“Then he lay back in the ferns to let it all flow over him. Jeremy stood at the centre of his own diagram, the Professor thought. In the thick of his own woods. A joined drama. People turning against the wind, returning to Eden. Those seeking reconciliation with the stable rhythms of the earth, with their own beginnings. Here, in the park, where out of desperation, for lack of options, a living theatre of rootedness had been reborn from distant tragedy. In Jeremy’s kitchen, where a sense of lost connection played out in culinary theatrics about the return to a familiar soil” (194).

Global or Local? 

As the two narratives intertwine, questions of culture, rootedness, and place in a globalized society become apparent. Which aspects of life are we willing to submit to the tides of global commerce? Which ones will we fight tooth and nail for?

I find the topics of Stanley Park particularly current despite being a decade old. With society questioning food in the wake of Food, Inc. and The Omnivore's Dilemma, Stanley Park offers a fictional addition to this “food” canon.

Even though I struggled at times to discover the connections between the novel’s storylines, I enjoyed the local flavor of Stanley Park. A product of Cascadia, the culinary tradition of Vancouver resembles Seattle’s tradition. I enjoyed the themes present in Stanley Park and applaud Taylor’s writing. If you are interested in food or Vancouver, read this book.

Verdict: 4 out of 5
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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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