Missing Scene In Death

From Naked In Death:

[Eve:] "It's a lot of house for one guy."

[Roarke:] "Do you think so? I'm more of the opinion that your apartment is small for one woman." When she stopped dead at the top of the stairs, he grinned. "Eve, you know I own the building. You'd have checked after I sent my little token."

"You ought to have someone out to look at the plumbing," she told him. "I can't keep the water hot in the shower for more than ten minutes."

"I'll make a note of it."

What the book really needs is a scene where, the next time Eve takes a shower at home, she has epic hot water and water pressure. We know, based on the characterization that develops as the series go on, that Roarke would in fact actually have someone fix the plumbing, even if he'd heard of the problem from someone less important to him. I think showing this so early on would make him a much more sympathetic character, and would make it far more believable that Eve falls in love with him.

Nearly everything Roarke did in his early courtship of Eve came across as arrogant and pushy. Every favour or kindness he did for her came in a context where he forced his way into her space in a way that would trigger alarm bells in anyone who read Gift of Fear. He is made more nuanced, more likable, less assholic as the series goes on and we learn more about him and actually spend some time in his head, but at the point of the scene above I hadn't seen any of this and found it completely unrealistic in a trashy romance novel way that Eve found anything appealing about him. I continued reading the series because I enjoy spending time in the universe, find Eve inspiring (at this point despite the fact that she fell for Roarke), and already had the second book on my library holds list, but I don't think I would have added it to my holds list if it hadn't already been there.

But a simple half-sentence mention that there's now plenty of hot water would show Roarke being kind to Eve (and to everyone else in the building) in a way that does not aggressively push forward his own agenda, thereby leading the reader to a much more sympathetic interpretation of the character. Roarke hasn't yet at this point won over either the reader or Eve, so it's better to show us why he will rather than assuming it's inevitable.

Thoughts from Big Sort

A while back, I was chatting with my hairdresser and found out that most of her clients are childfree. I thought on this a while, and it led to my noticing that in a great many areas in life, I choose things that are most suitable for me, and find myself surrounded by people who are like-minded in other ways on top of the factor that led me to that choice.

So I was googling around this idea for a while, and found this book: The Big Sort: Why the Clustering of Like-Minded America Is Tearing Us Apart by Bill Bishop. The book is very US-centric, but parts of it still seem applicable to my reality, and it led to a number of interesting trains of thought, which I'm going to blog about here.

(Note: The book deals with generalized demographic trends, so this post necessarily does to. I started out putting all the necessary mitigative language in everywhere and it quickly became ridiculous, so everything here is to be interpreted as a generalized trend, not an absolute truth, even if it is phrased absolutely.)

How do educated people perceive education?

One of the things touched on in the book is that people who don't have higher education tend to be...suspicious is the best word I can come up with, but that isn't quite precise (I'm foolishly writing this without the book in hand)...of people who do have higher education. They see us as up in some ivory tower completely removed from their reality, with perhaps an undertone of that we think less of them. That's just completely unlike my corner of reality. Round these parts, education is just something you have or have not done depending on your circumstances and inclination. It's morally equivalent to having read a particular book or not. If you've read the book, then you've...read the book. If you haven't read the book, you can always read it later, or watch the movie, or google it, or continue to go about your life without it. No big deal.

But then in some of the recent strikes (TTC, City of Toronto workers), some people were getting really pissed off that these workers were earning a decent living in jobs that didn't require higher education, and even calling for these jobs not to pay a decent living on the tacit basis that they didn't require higher education. That's so totally WTF I can't even begin to speculate.

But this raises a lot of questions. How many people with higher education think it's no big deal like I do, and how many think it's like some sacred golden key like the strike haters do? Do people with less education perceive people with more education as Other because of the strike hater types, (or vice versa, although I couldn't imagine how that would work), or did the two evolve separately? Could we create a better-functioning society by getting more people to think of it as no big deal? Would affordable tuition do this?

Why do people who value self-sufficiency need small-talk from strangers?

One of the points made in the book was that people who live in more rural areas tend to value self-sufficiency and independence. This surprised me, because one thing I have noticed in real life is that people in more rural areas are tend to want to small-talk with strangers, and find it off-putting that city people tend to not initiate conversation unless there's a specific reason to. My reasoning behind not talking to people unless I have a specific reason to is out of respect. I assume they're perfectly competent people with their own lives and their own concerns, and there's no reason why they would be interested in me. And yet, the population that disagrees with this approach correlates with a population that values self-sufficiency. So what's the story?

Are people who value self-sufficiency more actually more broadly competent?

As I mentioned above, people who live in rural areas and are more conservative tend to value self-sufficiency, seeing it as practically a moral imperative. This reflects something that has long been baffling me. If I mention that I can't do something or can't do it well enough to bother, certain people I know try to convince me I can - like they try really hard, far beyond social ego stroking, and seem really invested in the idea that I really can do whatever if I just try. After reading the book, I realized the people who do this are among the most conservative people I know. So they view self-sufficiency as more of a moral imperative - if you're self-sufficient, you're a good person; if you're not self-sufficient, you're being a lazy-ass and therefore a bad person. These people generally see me as a good person, so their initial gut reaction is that because I'm a good person, of course I can do whatever it is!

But, of course, the way real life works is that different people are good at or not good at different things to different degrees. So people who value self-sufficiency are going to do things themselves whether they're good at it or not, and are more likely to interpret the results of their efforts as adequate even if they are sub-optimal because they view it as a moral imperative. Meanwhile, people who have no particular problem with the idea of not being self-sufficient are more likely to look at sub-optimal results as "Meh, I'm not very good at this" and hire someone to do it next time.

It would be really interesting to study people who do and don't value self-sufficiency as a moral imperative and see how good they are objectively at various things. The trick is you'd have to control the results for the amount of practice the people have. For example, my parents think it's excessively decadent to hire someone to paint, so they paint themselves, and they've probably painted a whole house a total of four times in their lives. Meanwhile, I'm not very good at painting neatly and the smell of paint nauseates me, so I've painted maybe a quarter of a wall in my life and very much hope never to paint anything ever again. (I would unhesitatingly choose to live with peeling paint if I couldn't afford painters rather than attempt to do it myself.) So if you wanted to study who is objectively better at painting, you'd have to control for the fact that my parents have painted so much more than I have. Maybe they could study what people consider an acceptable result for their effort or something like that

What if we're working with two different definitions of self-sufficient?

One of the major examples the book gives of these attitudes towards self-sufficiency is that the self-sufficiency as moral imperative people view public transit as a waste of taxpayers' money and everyone should just STFU and drive themselves. (No mention either way of how they feel about toll roads - I haven't seen many toll roads in exurban areas.) This made my brain explode a little, because my initial, visceral attitude towards public transit is that it provides self-sufficiency. You can just go anywhere, no need to be dependent on a car or on other people to drive you, life is easy.

This all reminded me of a conversation I once had with my father back when I was a in my early teens. They were thinking about extending a bus route into our neighbourhood, and my father thought it was a waste of money because everyone in our transitless neighbourhood had a car - that's why they chose to live in the transitless neighbourhood. I was all "Um, no, I don't have a car. Kids who are old enough to go places themselves but not old enough to drive don't have cars. Seniors living with their adult children can't necessarily drive." I could think of dozens of individuals in the neighbourhood who would be well-served by a bus route. But my father was like "You don't need a bus, your mother and I drive you places. Kids are driven places by their parents. Mrs. Old Lady down the street is driven places by her adult children." A very disheartening thing when you're at the point where you're starting to want to do things independently of your parents, like all the protagonists in your favourite young adult novels.

But in that conversation, my father and I personify the two different views of self-sufficiency that I think are on the two sides of the Big Sort. I see self-sufficiency as an individual's independence from other individuals. I don't want to be dependent on my parents to drive me around. I see my grandparents also being dependent on my parents to drive them around, and I don't want to live like that either. However, people like my father see self-sufficiency as what I will for lack of a better word call their "tribe" (family, household, relatives, neighbours) being independent from outsiders. I think they feel that they take care of their tribe, and they don't want anyone else meddling with it. And I think they also feel that they're already doing the right thing and taking care of their tribe, so they shouldn't have to take care of someone else's tribe too. So at the crux of the divide is whether you think the tribe should be independent of the government, or whether you think the government should enable people to be independent of their tribe.

How you feel about this isn't necessarily reflective of the quality of your tribe. For example, I once saw someone propose that to save money, hospitals shouldn't give their patients meals, on the logic that hospitals are in the business of medicine, not catering. Patients' families should bring them food instead. Now, if I were in the hospital, my family would totally bring me food. We don't always like each other, we don't agree on most aspects of politics, but I have no doubt they would bring me any and all food I wanted for the duration of my hospital stay. However, I can totally imagine dozens of situations in which this model of the patients' families bringing food would be unsuitable, so, despite the fact that my tribe would totally feed me, I remain vehemently opposed to the idea of leaving people dependent on their tribe for food.

I think a problem with the tribe-centric view is that it doesn't always allow for the possibility that individuals do need to operate independently of the tribe. For example, I have seen several cases where right-wing fathers (I've only ever seen it with right-wing fathers, although I'm not discounting the possibility that other people do it too) have opposed some political measure because they think it would make it harder for them to provide for their children. However, they either didn't notice or didn't care that said political measure would make it easier for their children (who were either already or almost launched) to provide for themselves.

It would be interesting to study this self-sufficiency/tribe-centricity thing to see if the attitudes correlate with a person's position in their tribe. For example, cities are full of people who have left their tribe of origin upon reaching adulthood, which means that their only role without the tribe has been one of dependence. This would lead one to conclude that the people who value the individual's independence from the tribe are those who would be dependent upon the tribe, and the people who value the tribe's independence from outsiders are those with provider roles within the tribe. However, there are still people who stay in the more rural/conservative areas by choice despite their dependence on the tribe, even though they could live as independent individuals with the greater amenities available in urban areas. So there must be some other factors going on there, but I can't see them at the moment.

So how do we unsort ourselves?

As the book points out, people don't choose where to live because of the presence of like-minded individuals. We choose where to live because it suits our various needs. It's a reasonable commute to work. The quality of the housing is as close to ideal as we can manage. The distance from or proximity to various things is as close to optimal as we can realistically manage. Similarly, I chose my hairdresser because she specializes in long hair, not because she and her clientele are childfree. I chose my job because the work is a good match with my strengths, not because I'd be working with people with a similar family immigration history.

So how can we unsort ourselves? I don't know about you, but I'm not about to move to a less suitable neighbourhood, job, or hairdresser, especially not in service of spending more time with people whose political opinions I consider somewhere between sub-optimal and repugnant.

Or should we?

One thing that has really baffled me about Toronto municipal politics is people who live in Toronto proper, but don't want the trappings of urban life. They don't want bus service on their street or a subway stop in their neighbourhood or mixed-use zoning. They want to be able to park three cars on their property. I honestly do not understand at all why they choose to live in Canada's most urban municipality when they don't want urban life, and when the lifestyle they do want is readily available (at a significantly lower cost) just over in 905. As I've blogged about before, I chose my neighbourhood of highrises specifically for its urban nature, and it's very frustrating when people who live in houses outside our highrise neighbourhood try to stop the building of new highrises. So maybe we'd all be happier if we sorted ourselves fully.

But it doesn't seem right to position ourselves so we're completely disregarding a whole chunk of society just because they prefer a different lifestyle.

More thoughts from Outliers

1. Why is rice a staple food? Gladwell describes at length how a rice paddy requires daily diligent work, unlike, say, a wheat field where there are stages in the cultivation process where all you have to do is leave it alone and let it grow. So how did something that requires such painstaking cultivation end up being a staple food for so many people? Isn't there something else in that part of the world that grows more easily?

2. How much cultural bias is there in IQ tests? Gladwell mentions in passing a very advanced IQ test analogy question: “Teeth is to Hen as Nest is to ?” The general consensus of the internet is that the answer is mare. Hen's teeth and a mare's nest are both idioms whose literal meanings refer to non-existent things.

However, I would never have gotten that question right because I have never in my life, not once, heard the expression "mare's nest."

This ignorance is not entirely a function of my intelligence or lack thereof. It also means that the expression is absent from the active vocabulary of the people around me and the word choices of the writers whose work I consume. Now it's true I haven't read everything (although there have only been two books that I started and was unable to finish and a third that I neglected to start because they were too hard, and all of those I could have read if I'd had to for a school assignment or something), but no one can be expected to have read everything. And having read everything isn't entirely a sign of intelligence - it's also a sign of free time and hobby preferences. In any case, I don't know if I would have gotten the question right even if I had heard of a mare's nest, but my not having heard of it was at least partly a failure of my cultural environment. And I spent my entire life in an English-speaking community where the vast majority of the grownups were university educated. This makes me wonder how well these tests can assess people from other source cultures.

3. Why do the KIPP programs seem to rule out the possibility of going to college from public high school? Gladwell describes a USian middle-school program called KIPP, which gives motivated but economically disadvantaged public school students significantly more instructional hours so they can get scholarships to good private high schools and from there go on to college. But why are the school boards working on the assumption that the way into college is a private high school? Why aren't they also doing anything to help motivated by economically disadvantaged high school students go to college? Have these school boards written off all their high school students?

4. What are the Entitlement expectations of working-class authority figures? The book discusses Entitlement from the point of view of parents' expectations of their children and parents' and children's expectations of their authority figures. But what about the authority figures' expectations of people. In my own life, my friendly neighbourhood authority figures seem to expect that I'll have Entitlement, and I think it makes their jobs easier if people express their needs rather than being quietly complacent. Do working-class authority figures feel the same way, or do they expect their charges to be quietly complacent? If they do expect complacency, are they under them impression that they know their charges' needs as well as or better than their charges, or do they just not care?

Why don't I have Entitlement?

In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell describes a concept (originally from Annette Lareau's research) called Entitlement. (Both Gladwell and Lareau lowercase it, but I'm capitalizing it to differentiate from the generic.)

Entitlement, in this context, is a sense that you're totally allowed to ask people in authority stuff. If you have a question, you can totally ask. If you need some accommodation, you can totally ask for it. If an authority figure is miss informed, you're totally allowed to set them straight. This concept is brought up in the context of child-rearing. According to Lareau's research, middle-class families tend to raise their children to have Entitlement, whereas working-class families tend not to and the parents themselves are more likely to quietly defer to authority. (I'm normally not comfortable talking about "class" like it's a Great Big Thing, but it's an essential part of this concept and relevant to my personal observations about my own experience.)

I've been thinking very hard about this, because I had a solidly middle-class upbringing (my own room, an allowance, chores and responsibilities on principle rather than out of necessity, family vacations, music lessons, extracurriculars, going to university was a given), but I don't have Entitlement. I don't feel like I'm allowed to ask, I feel like I'm imposing and breaking from What's Done when I ask. I feel like the people in authority know exactly what they're doing and are doing it for a very good reason (and, as I've blogged about several times before, it both scares me and pisses me off when they don't know exactly what they're doing and don't have a very good reason).

So I'm trying to figure out why this is.

My first thought is that my parents didn't raise their children to have Entitlement because they themselves weren't raised that way. Their upbringing was most definitely working class, and I can't imagine my grandparents had any time to do concerted cultivation. But here's where it gets bizarre: I think my sister (just under three years younger than me) has Entitlement. I wanted to be a musician, I signed up for music class in high school and only joined the more advanced school bands when specifically asked to do so by a teacher. My sister wanted to be a musician, she joined a band and later helped start another couple of bands, playing actual gigs and even making a CD. Could it be because I'm Gen Xish and my sister is pure Gen Y? Could it be that my parents had become familiar with more middle-class parenting techniques by the time my sister came along? Or could it simply be a difference in personalities?

My second thought was that my Entitlement had been bullied out of me, but upon further reflection I realized that I had less Entitlement than I was expected to long before the bullying started. My first pertinent memory is from when I was 3 or 4 years old, in Montessori school, in what would now be described as junior kindergarten. I wanted to play with these beads, and I was told that I wasn't allowed to play with them because you have to be able to count to 10. (The counting was relevant to how one played with the toy, but I forget how exactly.) This confused and frightened and baffled me, because I could totally count to 100 at the time. But it never occurred to me to tell the teacher that I knew how to count to 100, I just assumed they had some big grownup reason I didn't understand and slunk off to metaphorically (and perhaps literally) curl up and cry. Years later, while going through some papers at my parents' house, I came upon my old Montessori school report card. One of the comments was something to the effect that I didn't show the teachers what I could do and what I had learned, worded in a way that made it clear they expected me to take the initiative. Reading this, I was flabbergasted. I had had literally no idea whatsoever that the teachers might have wanted me to show them what I could do. The thought never occurred to me. I would never - not even with the benefit of adult retrospect - have come up with the idea myself that the teacher wanted me to take the initiative of showing her that I could count to 10. I always assumed that if grownups wanted something from me, they'd ask. So it seems I never had Entitlement in the first place.

I'm not sure if my parents tried to instill Entitlement or not. (They did specifically try to prevent any sense of small-e entitlement.) If they did try to instill capital-E Entitlement, it wasn't nearly to the same extent as the parents described by Lareau. In the example cited by Gladwell, parents taking their nine-year-old son to the doctor told him "You should be thinking of questions you might want to ask the doctor." Not just that he can ask, that he's allowed to ask, but that he should. As though it's something he has to do to Be Good. My parents might have told me that I was allowed to ask questions, or they might have assumed that I knew I was allowed because no one told me I wasn't, but they never would have made a point of telling me that I should think of questions to ask. On the other hand, when I did find myself in a situation where an adult or authority figure unexpectedly tried to get me to express my thoughts or opinion or preferences, I'd become frightened. The first time I ever got a hamburger at Harvey's and they asked me what I wanted on it, I thought it was a trick. Throughout childhood and adolescence and even early adulthood, whenever authority figures unexpectedly asked me for an opinion or feedback or what I wanted, I'd panic (figuratively) and not be able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Part of this is introvert brain - I don't always instantly have words for things that I'm not expecting to have to articulate or that I've never given a moment's thought to - but there was also an underlying fear that even though they were asking what I thought, they didn't genuinely mean it. I thought asking for what I really wanted was Not Allowed, and they actually wanted me to just quietly and passively go along with what they intended (as Lareau describes the working-class children and parents as doing.) The panic would be because I wasn't able to guess at what the authority figure intended, and I thought I'd get in trouble for giving a wrong answer.

Of course, there's also the possibility this whole thing is so generational it doesn't apply to me at all. I've noticed that in general pure Gen Y people are better at Entitlement than I am. I've talked to a few other people who are X/Y cusp and they don't think they were parented into Entitlement either (although there wasn't a large enough sample size to rule out the possibility of working-class influence). But Lareau's book was published in 2003, so the research was done probably shortly before then. The kids she studied are 15-20 years younger than me, so maybe the parenting techniques used on them are completely inapplicable to me. But the fact remains that I do see Entitlement in people of all ages around me - and in my own sister - and I don't have it. There must be something somewhere in there.

I'm not completely lacking in the ability to do Entitlement. I've been able to do it when it's really truly important. For example, when I applied for translation school, I wasn't informed of the date of the entrance exam and didn't find out I'd missed it until two weeks after the fact. I took the initiative of contacting them and asking if there was anything that could be done, and was granted permission to write the exam independently. I got it done because it had to be done and I had to be the one to do it. But if it can get away without being done, I can't work up the nerve. I clearly remember being terrified to ask my high school music teacher if I might possibly swap the size XL band shirt I had somehow ended up with for a size small and would totally have spent four years passively wearing an unflatteringly large shirt if I hadn't heard that one of the guys really needed a bigger shirt.

I'm only recently starting to see how acting with Entitlement is helpful not only to me but to the people I'm dealing with. I'm learning this mostly from observing my Gen Y colleagues. They walk in with Entitlement and look competent and professional, where I looked like a shy, nervous child. There have been a few cases where I was given more responsibility than usual and had to act with Entitlement or other people's work or the product delivered the client would have suffered, and my Entitlement ended up having a positive effect for everyone. When I do act with Entitlement, it always ends up getting mentioned positively on my performance reviews. And when I was recently responsible for training one of our summer students (Why, hello Impostor Syndrome! I haven't seen you in a while!) I couldn't have done it properly without her Entitlement. So it does seem to be something I need to be a proper grown-up. But it doesn't come naturally, and I'm not sure exactly why.

Questions I want J.D. Robb to answer

In the In Death books, Summerset is Roarke's butler. He calls him Sir and everything.

But a few books in, we learn that Summerset used to be Roarke's unofficial foster father. So when and where and how did the balance of power in the relationship switch? Going from being a foster father to calling him Sir is no small thing. Even if it is a kind of long con, it's got to chafe every once in a while. (And if it were a long con, they're still keeping it up in private. Summerset does actually carry out butler responsibilities behind closed doors.)

The Weather Makers by Tim Flannery

If you only read one book about climate change, read this one. It is astonishingly well-structured and deals with absolutely everything - not only the things that are mentioned in the book and that we hear in the news, but solar flares and colonization and industrialization and coral reefs and that one chart from my OAC World Issues textbook - it's all covered and written in a way that you don't have to make an effort to read.

This book could also be used as a textbook on how to structure a book. I'm reading along and I'm thinking "Yeah, but what about reforestation?" Then the next paragraph is like "Now you're probably asking "What about reforestation?"" It's talking about rising water levels, so I'm calculating whether that would affect where I live and feeling slightly guilty for doing so, then the next paragraph reassures me that it's perfectly natural to be calculating whether this is going to affect me. Even if you don't agree with what the book has to say, it should get a prize for being so well-structured and user-friendly and anticipating the reader's needs.

The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud

This book is a story of Gen. Xers in New York in the dot-com bust. The plot is there, it's a story, it does its job, there's nothing wrong with it. But that's not what's cool about the book.

The first thing that's cool is the way the author does detail. Usually I'm not fond of excessive detail because it seems unrealistic to me that people would notice that, but here it just seemed spot-on. For example, early on in the book the author describes a character's make-up, from that character's point of view, in terms of the character's own perception of the flaws of her make-up and the flaws on her face that it's concealing. And it was an absolutely perfect description of my own face at the time I was reading it. It's like the author was inside my head when I look in the mirror around 3 pm and was articulating in words all the thoughts that pass through my head as wordless concepts. As the book went on I stopped noticing the descriptions of detail (which is good, it means they didn't overwhelm the book) but in every case it was exactly right without getting overwrought.

The second thing that was very cool is a spoiler. If you read the rest of this, it will stop you from having "Whoa!" moments of realization if you read the book. So you might want to stop reading now. But if you're still here, the second cool thing is that the book is set in the months leading up to September 11, but this is never explicitly mentioned (until Sept. 11 actually happens, that is). Months are mentioned, a few hints are dropped, so you might figure it out or you might not. I figured it out because a movie was alluded to (by namedropping the real-life actress who starred in it), and I happened to remember where in res I was living at the time that movie came out, thus being able to work out that it was 2001. I think if my life had been more stable during that time and I had been living in one place for several years, I would have missed it. Casually dropped into all this are references that would become more significant after Sept. 11. Firefighters are included in a list of people who might be thought of as heroes. The skyline of Manhattan is mentioned, without mentioning any specific buildings. It's all very subtly done, as is appropriate given that the characters had no idea what was coming.

This makes me really curious about how this book will stand up to the test of time, how it will look to readers 20 or 50 years from now for whom this setting is nothing but a history lesson.

This Is My Country, What's Yours? A Literary Atlas of Canada by Noah Richler

This is one of those "read this to feel smart" books. It's a literary psychogeography of Canada, which is kind of WHOOSH ***/me swishes hand about a foot over head*** but I managed to follow it well enough anyway. It was easier to follow when the author was talking about works of literature or places that I was familiar with, but I didn't get lost in other parts of the book. Interestingly, people kept striking up conversations with me when I was reading this book in public, which has only ever happened with Harry Potter and Life of Pi.

The author starts with the idea of Canada as Nowhere. It's an old-fashioned idea from back when we were still functionally a colony - the wilds of Canada were the kind of place that people would be banished to - but it does appeal to me. Our leaders are so obsessed with making Canada a significant global power and making Toronto a world-class city, but I like the idea of being nowhere and being globally irrelevant, being thought of as just a few million people in this vast wild wasteland. (Well, I like the idea as long as it doesn't affect our performing arts scene so badly that it's no longer reasonable to say "Oh, I'll just wait for that play/opera/tour/whatever to come to Toronto.") I like the idea that people might sometimes forget about our existence, only to be reminded with things like "Well, you could always go to Canada to marry your same-sex partner." Like the kid in high school who would never be part of the cool crowd, but it doesn't matter because they've got their own life and hobbies and friends outside of school.

The other interesting idea the author raised is The City (as in all cities, I'm not getting all San Francisco on you) as a distinct society.

In the city, [borders] lose significance. The city, as it develops, becomes bigger and more complex than any of its parts. Consensus falls away and difference becomes the lifeblood of a place where a multitude of stories compete for recongition and dispute and build on what has been said before. The City is a "distinct society" because communities live on top of and in between one another and no person is any one thing for all of the time. borders do not matter any more because the living is diffuse. The city has its own rules, its own accords. It is a generic place but also multiplicitous.

I like this because it articulated something I've had in mind but haven't been able to articulate. When you live in a city, where you're from (both geographically and socially) can be allowed to become as irrelevant as you want it to be. Which is something I find appealing. In media/literature you sometimes come across the idea that a young person is abandoning "who they are" when they decide to live in a way that's different from their family. (I've seen this most recently seen this as a criticism of Didi in The Riches, which doesn't make sense as something to criticize her about but that's a whole nother post.) Whenever I encounter this idea, I always think it's unfair, because you, not your background, should get to define "who you are". The distinct society that is urban life allows us to do that.

Blasts from the past

If you used to read Baby-Sitters Club, you might enjoy BSC Headquarters.

If you used to read Sweet Valley High, you might enjoy The Dairi Burger.

Heat: How to Stop the Planet from Burning by George Monbiot

This book sets out a way to cut our carbon emissions by 90% by 2030 without sending us all back to the stone age. The science seems sound to my only slightly trained eye, so I'd recommend that anyone who's a political leader or who's in a position to make significant invetment in new technologies read this. Maybe if that sending-books-to-Stephen-Harper thing is still going on, someone could send him this. (The Canadian edition starts out by laying a smackdown on Canada for the Harper government's policies.) I can suggest only one improvement, and that would be to put a brief summary of all the recommendations at the end of the book. I'm sure I forgot some things by the time I finished reading it. But it's really not that big a deal for the reader to page back.

There are lots of good ideas in this book, but my favourite (just because it's so obvious in retrospect and so applicable to real-life) is the idea of appliances like washing machines and dishwashers where you load them up and then they will automatically start operating when overall demand on the power grid is low. Obviously you'd need to be able to override that, but it's such a good idea!

Reading this book did bring up one thing that has been sort of quietly bugging me about environmentalism for a while: there seems to be greater value placed on cutting back your own footprint than on having a small footprint in the first place. If you give up driving during Environment Week, and you can get points for Commuter Challenge. Give up your car permanently, and you've won the One Tonne Challenge. But if you don't own a car in the first place, you don't get any credit. Which is kind of frustrating for me as I sit here, childfree, carfree and vegetarian, in my LEED-certified apartment. Monbiot insists that everyone needs to cut back by 90%, and while he maybe means that in the macro sense (the suggestions in the book are all things that governments and businesses can do rather than personal choices - policies have to be changed, different products need to be available etc.) I still find it kind of annoying that by his philosophy, there's no possible way anyone, no matter how virtuous, can count as having already cut back their 90%.

Nonviolence: Tenty-five Lessons from the History of a Dangerous Idea by Mark Kurlansky

I highly recommend reading this book. It's not that big of a book (only 183 pages) but there's really a lot to think about in it. I'm not writing a full review just yet because my brain is still processing everything I've learned from it, but I do recommend reading it. I like the directions it's making me think in.

Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog by John Grogan

Animal books don't usually work on me (strange, I know, because I am an animal person), but this one did. It is adorable and hilarious and had me laughing and going "Awww!" on the subway. The author also handles the emotional arc of the book deftly - just as I thought I was going to have to end the book by crying (which is standard for the genre) I ended it laughing instead. I also have to admire that the author ended up coming across as sympathetic, when he's not the kind of person I'd find particularly sympathetic IRL. (Not that there's anything wrong with him, he's just not someone I'd seek out as a friend or anything.) I'm not going to actively recommend to read it for the writing because it didn't take my breath away or anything, but the author did manage to win over an unsympathetic reader who doesn't usually appreciate the genre. So that should count for something. Plus, like, it's funny and cute and has a yellow tilty-head puppy on the front.

Least memorable book ever

Just before I moved, I finished a book of short stories. I wanted to blog about it because I'm really trying to get back in the habit of blogging what I read, but I can't remember the title! Or the author! Or the contents of the stories! I think there was some adultery, and maybe a yoga class, and maybe an old man, but I'm not entirely certain.

So obviously they weren't terribly memorable stories. Unfortunately I can't even tell you the name or author so you can avoid them.

Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb

Read this book! Read it for the cultural anthropology. It's an absolutely fascinating explanation of another culture without getting all condescending or preachy.

The protagonist is a British girl who was orphaned in Africa when her hippie parents were killed in a drug deal, then brought up in a Muslim community and then taken to Ethiopia for some reason. The book explores her life as an adolescent living with a widow and her daughters in Harar, Ethopia in the 1970s. This story alternates with the story of the protagonist in the 1980s, now back "home" in London, where she works as a nurse and helps refugees.

My description doesn't do it justice. It is fascinating and compelling, but what I like best is that it describes life in Harar (and life in London, for that matter) in a very matter-of-fact way. Usually when books talk about Other Cultures, there's either a condescending colonial tone or a preachy "noble savages" tone. This one doesn't. It just describes what's happening, quietly making sure to do so in a way I'll understand while sitting in the subway in Toronto, but never passing judgement on the culture being described or on me from being unfamiliar with it. And I left wanting to find out what else happened to the characters in the book, which is always a good sign.

The Evolution-Creation Struggle by Michael Ruse

This book sets out to give a history of evolution and creationism, and tell the reader how we got to where we are now. It does that successfully, and is quite calm about it. The only problem was it didn't hold my interest while it was doing that. I think that's a problem with me instead of with the book - I found the subject matter less interesting than I thought I would. The book does briefly explore how religion in the US turned out to be more fundamentalist than religion in Europe, which was rather interesting, but as a whole it turned out I just don't care about evolution vs. creationism for 300 pages worth of text.

Modern and Normal by Karen Solie

Usually poetry doesn't work for me, but this one did. It wasn't over my head, I got it. All of it worked for me, but what I liked best was the found poetry. She took text from packaging and textbooks and other ephemeral sources, and arranged it as poems. Ever since I read it, I've been viewing everyday texts in a more poetic way, which makes the act of translation far more interesting.

So Cancer Ward is a very important book, it was important that I read it and I learned a lot from it. But it was not fun to read. It brought up a lot of unpleasant facts and ideas, and the way sexuality was portrayed made me uncomfortable (can't quite articulate why yet).

Plus it brought up the whole issue of mortality. It made me think about what I would do if I were dying, and I was faced with the distressing fact that I have no idea. I mean, I know I'd get married and put my affairs in order, but what would I do with my time? I've had the last month off with no obligations, and I've been reading, gaming, cooking, etc. If I were dying I'd probably have more sit-down restaurant meals and more wine, but I still don't know what I'd do with my time. Most of my normal past-times just seem like ways of eating away your time. I don't particularly like to travel, and though I'd love to see Paris and Venice I'd only want to spend a couple of days in each place. Would I read? Very selectively. Would I watch TV? The thing preventing me from doing so now is the price of a decent cable service, but while money is no object when you're dying, watching TV tends to be a bit of a timewaster (although I'd certainly find a way to see the last episode of MASH). Would I work out? Why bother? Would I game? A nice way to relax sure, but it also eats up time. I really can't think of what I'd do!

The verdict on Harry Potter: SO FUCKING GOOD!!!! Harry Potter is the Star Wards of children's books! I read each book straight through, I could not put them down, and now there's starting to be magic in my dreams. I can't believe some people think these are inappropriate for children! Why? Because there's magic in them? Um, look at any fairy tale...

Parents with kids who can read but don't like to should read a couple of chapters of the first Harry Potter to their kids, stop at the first cliffhanger, and leave the book in the kid's room. Within a week the kid will be begging for the next book. These books are on part with Pippi Longstocking, Narnia, and Roald Dahl. Even adults will enjoy them! They are a bit fluffy for adults, but while they are a touch formulaic the ending is always a surprise!

They do have instances of spiders in them, there's at least one instance in every book, although some have more. Ditto for snakes. I found it was manageable if I started skimming as soon as I recognized what was going on and picked up after the danger had passed, and I did find I could avoid visualing here (I couldn't in LOTR). If you are as phobic as me, skip the chapter entitled Aragog in Chamber of Secrets. Otherwise, enjoy!

So I've been reading A Girl's Gotta Do What a Girl's Gotta Do by Kathleen Baty, and I'm not too impressed. The vast majority of the book is stuff I already know, and some of it is utterly ridiculous. Remember that email that was circulating around the internet a couple of years ago that said women wearing overalls are most likely to be raped? Well, she put that little factoid in her book - that women wearing overalls are likely to be attacked because the attacker could quickly snip the straps of the overalls. Has she ever tried cutting 2 or more layers of denim? Not quick and easy. Besides, in what world do overalls fall right off if the straps are cut? Most women have hips, and hips tend to keep pants from falling off. Remember about 14 years ago when the fashion was to undo the straps of your overalls, pull down the bib, and loop the straps under your crotch? And were overalls falling off left and right then? No! That one false factoid destroyed the credibility of the whole book for me.

But overalls aside, a lot of this book reeks of paranoia without thought. For example, she says that when you are travelling, you should only carry a purse that can be worn diagonally across your body. Question: why is your normal purse and method of carrying your purse suddenly DANGEROUS when travelling? If my purse serves me well in the major city I currently live in, why would it not be suitable in any other major city? She also advises travellers to dress inconspicuously and avoid "flashy" clothing and jewellery. I'd imagine dressing in a "flashy" manner would attract unwanted attention at home too, so why would someone need to be told this? Or are there people who actually think "I would never wear this ridiculously short skirt at home because it attracts too much negative attention, but I'll be perfectly fine wearing it to walk alone through the streets of New York City." And if people do dress in an attention-getting manner at home, they'd doubtless be used to the kind of attention they're going to get, no?

She tells you to look out for suspicious or unusual happenings and individuals when leaving your building. So I walk out to my front doors, looking left I see Crazy Homeless Guy with that device around his head to keep it from falling off, looking right I see Creepy Old Man who always walks around in shorts and is very free with his gaseous emissions. You know what? This is normal. But I'd be more worried about being raped by some former frat boy in khakis.

Overall, this book is not for me. The fact that she talks about being on the subway as a New And Different Experience, and the fact that she has to explicitly tell the reader to fight back against a rapist makes me think that her target reader is more sheltered and cowed. If you aren't nervous walking home from the bus stop at 10 pm, don't bother with this book.