My good friend just published his third book, and it's killing me. I need to be reading it on my kindle right now, but I can't. Work to make money to buy the kindle and pay for the books. There are worse addictions, I suppose.
A synopsis of his book, The Legend of Ivan so far:
Ivan is, obviously, a legend. Too much of one. Everyone in the galaxy appears to have heard of this man, and it is the job of Archivist Sid to find out whether there is fact in the fiction. Sid, under the employ of one of the numerous super-corperations that influences the galaxy, is compelled to seek out information in the worst of places in order to verify Ivan's existence. Given a few shreds of (suspect) information, he has to dig deeper in ways that threaten his very life.
The book is quickly paced, well-detailed, and hilarious. The beginning of chapter 2 starts with the sentence, "Ivan punched a dinosaur."
What lends genius to Kemppainen's writing is the format of the story. Given the prior knowledge that Ivan is a legend and that every tale is bound to be only a partial truth, it enables the author to craft the most magnificent and outrageous vignettes dealing with Ivan. Some say he's a robot, others say he's human, and some people claim he's destroyed an entire planet by himself. After every second-hand story about Ivan, Sid evaluates the information in a "report" that sums up the important details. Through Sid, the reader begins to gain an appreciation for what Ivan actually is, and just how much of the stories about him we can trust.
As with all of Kemppainen's books, the characters are well-fleshed out, distinct in every way from one another. There aren't cookie-cutter archetypes like you'll find in some space-opera novels, no token aliens who are only different from humans on the surface. Instead we get even bit characters with unique and believable personalities (yes, even the crazies that Sid gets his information from).
And, as usual, Kemppainen doesn't fail to immerse the reader in a different time and place. Rather than dumping large amounts of exposition onto the reader all at once, as some novels tend to do, he allows details of the galaxy that Ivan and Sid inhabit to bleed through in the stories and narration of the characters. Through Sid we learn of the Archivists, and the strange process that creates them; why they are so rare in the galaxy, and how horrible their interactions with their own kind are by nature. Through various denizens we learn of the corporate-controlled planets, large industrial espionage budgets, and weapons divisions that make up the ruling powers in the galaxy. Through Sid's contacts and familiar acquaintances, the reader is introduced to the methods of intergalactic travel without being bogged down in mechanical explanations.
Rather than focus on these mundane details, as so many science-fiction authors are wont to do, Kemppainen takes us on a journey with a very specific focus: the people and places in his world. And, just like any real human could tell you, it is through people that we learn the most about culture and history. It's refreshing to see authors who don't want to spend hours coming up with convoluted explanations for tiny details that don't really matter to plot. Yes, we are impressed with the amount of effort you put in. No, it doesn't enhance your story to spend two chapters on a starship drive.
Though all of Kemppainen's books are novels I enjoy a great deal, this one is my favorite so far. Hopefully the ending of Ivan is as good as I think it will be.
If you don't have it, Get it. It's less than 3 dollars online.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Speaking Visually
While completely blinded by the snow glare off the mountain today at work, it occurred to me just how keyed into our sense of sight our entire lives are.
One of the more famous examples of philosophy that I love to quote is the old "blue" challenge. Describe to someone the color blue, in a manner they would understand, without referencing another color, or something (like the sky) that IS that color.
I haven't done it yet. I don't think I've met someone that can, either. Scientifically describing "blue" as a certain frequency of reflected light comes close, but the inevitable question of "Yes, but what does that frequency LOOK like?" brings us back around to the beginning.
Stop and think a moment. When first challenged to describe something, what is your first instinct? Reference, probably to something similar that you've seen. Even our feelings are described this way. Anger, lust, other powerful and usually negative emotions are described in books as red, dark, or black. "Green" with envy? So full of it your eyes are turning brown?
As a species, our visual acuity has brought a remarkable sharpness that other things can't necessarily match. The human visual range, in terms of spectra seen, is one of the widest in the animal kingdom. True, we can't see into the ultraviolet, like insects, and our low-light vision is pretty abysmal, yet the range of sight that we are given is still quite astonishing. (As is the range of our other senses. There's a fascinating essay on this by Neil DeGrasse Tyson that everyone should read in his book.)
Does this explain our tendency to assosciate everything with the property of sight? In my opinion, no. Look at some of our favorite pasttimes: movies, videogames, card games, etc. All share a key visual component; one can argue that the experiences are fundamentally changed for the worse if they cannot be experienced visually. (Trust me, Devil May Cry sucks blindfolded.)
We are convinced in sight as a fact in and of itself. First priority in a murder case? Eyewitnesses. Outlandish claims by a cryptozoologist? "Many witnesses...." "I saw the monster myself." Trust is implicit in this sense of ours, despite the urgings of card sharks, magicians, and effect artists to the opposite.
Fantasy writers, Japanese Myths, and even comic books seem to believe that removing our sense of sight can somehow empower our other senses. Notions of "the blind sage", zen, and even Yoda's "letting go" into the Force all have strikingly similar meanings. IS there something to be gained by relying less on our primary method of evaluating the world? One author described being blind as not sharpening her other senses - just forcing her to use them smarter than others would.
A writer's challenge, then: go an entire day without referencing something visually. Continue about your activities as normal, but try to actively separate your sense of sight from your conscious thoughts, words, and actions. If asked to describe something, attempt to do so with non-visual language. "What did it look like?" "Like a hangover feels."
As a writer, I think this will help me a great deal with descriptive language. Metaphor, simile, and those terrible symbols that somewhere fall in between. If I can do it with the way I speak, hopefully the way I write will improve. If you are or know an aspiring author, have them try this. It'll be interesting to see how things turn out.
.... that's a joke.
One of the more famous examples of philosophy that I love to quote is the old "blue" challenge. Describe to someone the color blue, in a manner they would understand, without referencing another color, or something (like the sky) that IS that color.
I haven't done it yet. I don't think I've met someone that can, either. Scientifically describing "blue" as a certain frequency of reflected light comes close, but the inevitable question of "Yes, but what does that frequency LOOK like?" brings us back around to the beginning.
Stop and think a moment. When first challenged to describe something, what is your first instinct? Reference, probably to something similar that you've seen. Even our feelings are described this way. Anger, lust, other powerful and usually negative emotions are described in books as red, dark, or black. "Green" with envy? So full of it your eyes are turning brown?
As a species, our visual acuity has brought a remarkable sharpness that other things can't necessarily match. The human visual range, in terms of spectra seen, is one of the widest in the animal kingdom. True, we can't see into the ultraviolet, like insects, and our low-light vision is pretty abysmal, yet the range of sight that we are given is still quite astonishing. (As is the range of our other senses. There's a fascinating essay on this by Neil DeGrasse Tyson that everyone should read in his book.)
Does this explain our tendency to assosciate everything with the property of sight? In my opinion, no. Look at some of our favorite pasttimes: movies, videogames, card games, etc. All share a key visual component; one can argue that the experiences are fundamentally changed for the worse if they cannot be experienced visually. (Trust me, Devil May Cry sucks blindfolded.)
We are convinced in sight as a fact in and of itself. First priority in a murder case? Eyewitnesses. Outlandish claims by a cryptozoologist? "Many witnesses...." "I saw the monster myself." Trust is implicit in this sense of ours, despite the urgings of card sharks, magicians, and effect artists to the opposite.
Fantasy writers, Japanese Myths, and even comic books seem to believe that removing our sense of sight can somehow empower our other senses. Notions of "the blind sage", zen, and even Yoda's "letting go" into the Force all have strikingly similar meanings. IS there something to be gained by relying less on our primary method of evaluating the world? One author described being blind as not sharpening her other senses - just forcing her to use them smarter than others would.
A writer's challenge, then: go an entire day without referencing something visually. Continue about your activities as normal, but try to actively separate your sense of sight from your conscious thoughts, words, and actions. If asked to describe something, attempt to do so with non-visual language. "What did it look like?" "Like a hangover feels."
As a writer, I think this will help me a great deal with descriptive language. Metaphor, simile, and those terrible symbols that somewhere fall in between. If I can do it with the way I speak, hopefully the way I write will improve. If you are or know an aspiring author, have them try this. It'll be interesting to see how things turn out.
.... that's a joke.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Cynical upswing
Today is one of those days where I begin to hate people. Optimist that I am, it's not always easy to maintain a sunny disposition.
My biggest beef (pork, lamb, calamari) with society today is actually a problem that I myself tended to suffer from before I went to college.
Anecdotal evidence should not outweigh statistical in real life as a matter of course. Too many people I work with, or know, attribute more weight in an argument to a personal story or experience than to statistical fact. This is not an ideological difference, this is a problem.
Fine, it's an ideological difference in that I feel that it's a problem. This is not to say that I am of the opinion that it's a problem, this is to say that I'm tired of it an a much deeper level than an opinion. It has GOT to stop.
Someone I know, who probably won't read this but who I tend to think of as a friend, told me that his reasons for opposing abortion aren't just theological (which I can respect). His evidence is that all of the divorcees he's met while working in a job that involves lots of people in high-income brackets who have had abortions are terrible people. (According to him.) In his mind, having an abortion ruins your soul, because you've taken a life. It's also indicative, according to him, of their lifestyle. Things to these people are to be used and thrown away, hence the lack of compassion with having a baby aborted. When I mentioned that not all women act like that, he further argued that all the GOOD women he knows that have had abortions regretted it. Hence, no one should have the right to abort.
This is not an argument over abortion; that's not going to be what this is about. Not once did my friend mention a statistical fact, other than personal experience. It's unfortunate that in your particular experience you have not met with well-adjusted individuals who conform to your behavioral norms.
This is not a representative slice of America; it's a lodge for rich people to spend money. Take that into account.
Other subjects which are slowly killing off pieces of my soul as they're argued about:
A) Unions
B) Abstinence only education
C) Torture
D) Diet
E) Human Rights
F) Healthcare
and probably twenty others that I don't even want to think about.
Let me restate this as clearly as possible: Know the facts. Too many times (myself included in here) people will argue about something based solely upon opinion. Telling me that almost half of America disapproves of a politician means nothing to me, considering that it means that MORE than half DOES. (This was a percentage of the group that responded, not of all of America, either.) Give me a number. Back it up. Prove to me that what you're saying is true.
This isn't the burden of proof, either. I loook up things I'm told constantly. This is why I'm a cynic - belief only takes me so far.
80% of statistics are made up on the spot. Numbers mean little, context means more. Everyone knows that flying is safer than driving. This does not mean you should get in a plane and try to fly it, because you're statistically more likely to crash your car. More men are hit by lightning than women. This might have more to do with behavior than biology - like that horrible Mountain Dew commercial.
If you know someone who has a sad story; they've suffered in socialized healthcare, they had an abortion, they have an addiction - I'm not bad mouthing you or your friend. I'm telling you to think harder if the one person you know influences your opinion on a bigger issue that could impact a lot of people. Don't vote against unions because a guy in a bar told you that a union fucked up his construction job. Get the facts.
Optimistically, my friend looked up statistics on abortion after we talked. He quoted some to me. I was impressed. If given the right nudge, sometimes people can surprise you. Most of my friends take the time and effort to examine their motives and facts.
Call me on this. If I quote something that I say is a fact, ask me how I know. I'll do my best to stay up to date.
And dammit, read the hyperlinks at the top.
/endrant
My biggest beef (pork, lamb, calamari) with society today is actually a problem that I myself tended to suffer from before I went to college.
Anecdotal evidence should not outweigh statistical in real life as a matter of course. Too many people I work with, or know, attribute more weight in an argument to a personal story or experience than to statistical fact. This is not an ideological difference, this is a problem.
Fine, it's an ideological difference in that I feel that it's a problem. This is not to say that I am of the opinion that it's a problem, this is to say that I'm tired of it an a much deeper level than an opinion. It has GOT to stop.
Someone I know, who probably won't read this but who I tend to think of as a friend, told me that his reasons for opposing abortion aren't just theological (which I can respect). His evidence is that all of the divorcees he's met while working in a job that involves lots of people in high-income brackets who have had abortions are terrible people. (According to him.) In his mind, having an abortion ruins your soul, because you've taken a life. It's also indicative, according to him, of their lifestyle. Things to these people are to be used and thrown away, hence the lack of compassion with having a baby aborted. When I mentioned that not all women act like that, he further argued that all the GOOD women he knows that have had abortions regretted it. Hence, no one should have the right to abort.
This is not an argument over abortion; that's not going to be what this is about. Not once did my friend mention a statistical fact, other than personal experience. It's unfortunate that in your particular experience you have not met with well-adjusted individuals who conform to your behavioral norms.
This is not a representative slice of America; it's a lodge for rich people to spend money. Take that into account.
Other subjects which are slowly killing off pieces of my soul as they're argued about:
A) Unions
B) Abstinence only education
C) Torture
D) Diet
E) Human Rights
F) Healthcare
and probably twenty others that I don't even want to think about.
Let me restate this as clearly as possible: Know the facts. Too many times (myself included in here) people will argue about something based solely upon opinion. Telling me that almost half of America disapproves of a politician means nothing to me, considering that it means that MORE than half DOES. (This was a percentage of the group that responded, not of all of America, either.) Give me a number. Back it up. Prove to me that what you're saying is true.
This isn't the burden of proof, either. I loook up things I'm told constantly. This is why I'm a cynic - belief only takes me so far.
80% of statistics are made up on the spot. Numbers mean little, context means more. Everyone knows that flying is safer than driving. This does not mean you should get in a plane and try to fly it, because you're statistically more likely to crash your car. More men are hit by lightning than women. This might have more to do with behavior than biology - like that horrible Mountain Dew commercial.
If you know someone who has a sad story; they've suffered in socialized healthcare, they had an abortion, they have an addiction - I'm not bad mouthing you or your friend. I'm telling you to think harder if the one person you know influences your opinion on a bigger issue that could impact a lot of people. Don't vote against unions because a guy in a bar told you that a union fucked up his construction job. Get the facts.
Optimistically, my friend looked up statistics on abortion after we talked. He quoted some to me. I was impressed. If given the right nudge, sometimes people can surprise you. Most of my friends take the time and effort to examine their motives and facts.
Call me on this. If I quote something that I say is a fact, ask me how I know. I'll do my best to stay up to date.
And dammit, read the hyperlinks at the top.
/endrant
The last word
What's with the last word game at shops and restaurants? I'm serious, this is real. Try it for yourself. It's like a Dane Cook sketch.
You wrap up your business, whether it be buying merchandise, eating a meal, or even just shooting the breeze. Things are pleasant, calm, and in no way hostile. Yet most service staff HAVE to have the last word. It goes something like this.
"Thanks for shopping/eating/talking to my face for a while. Have a nice day!"
"You too."
"Any time."
"Tell me if you have any sales/coupons/drink specials."
"Can do, take it easy."
"Thanks again."
It ends when the patron leaves and gives up. I've seriously had this go on for almost two minutes. It was excruciating.
Seriously, what's with this? Is it a contest of wills? Some weird, leftover dominance thing from our days as apes? And why do I always lose? If I'm a customer, the shopkeeper/waiter/monkey has the last word. If I'm working, the customer gets the last say. I don't understand this at all.
It's like bowing in Japanese culture. Whoever bows lower is the subordinate, so men who don't know each other will take turns bowing lower and lower until one decides that there's enough.
From now on, I'm going to have the last word in shops/restaurants/church. Resolution set, game on.
You wrap up your business, whether it be buying merchandise, eating a meal, or even just shooting the breeze. Things are pleasant, calm, and in no way hostile. Yet most service staff HAVE to have the last word. It goes something like this.
"Thanks for shopping/eating/talking to my face for a while. Have a nice day!"
"You too."
"Any time."
"Tell me if you have any sales/coupons/drink specials."
"Can do, take it easy."
"Thanks again."
It ends when the patron leaves and gives up. I've seriously had this go on for almost two minutes. It was excruciating.
Seriously, what's with this? Is it a contest of wills? Some weird, leftover dominance thing from our days as apes? And why do I always lose? If I'm a customer, the shopkeeper/waiter/monkey has the last word. If I'm working, the customer gets the last say. I don't understand this at all.
It's like bowing in Japanese culture. Whoever bows lower is the subordinate, so men who don't know each other will take turns bowing lower and lower until one decides that there's enough.
From now on, I'm going to have the last word in shops/restaurants/church. Resolution set, game on.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A contradiction in terms
That's what the name of the page sounds like, right? A cynical optimist?
Eh, maybe. Maybe it doesn't make any sense to tell people that you expect reality and are always pleased to find out that you're wrong. Maybe I'm a fool to laugh at funerals and play music that no one can hear.
Prove me wrong. No seriously, do it. I'd like to think I've got enough of a training in logical deduction after four years of college that I'd be able to sit back and objectively say, "I have no right to laugh at the things I do, to giggle when the ketchup bottle makes fart noises in public, or to expect that people will always surprise me." If anyone can provide an argument good enough to change my mind, I will, and say I was wrong the entire time.
On the other hand, let's shift the burden of proof. Suppose I tell you why I'm a cynical optimist instead of a rose-colored-glasses skeptic.
Skepticism has its place in our society. If people aren't asking questions, challenging conventions, or willing to throw out that they think that something is wrong, then we're in trouble. I will never dispute this, but I probably won't end up filling the role of the hardcore skeptic. Here's why:
There's a concept in sociology called "social loafing." Given a certain size population, any number of people with jobs to do are going to say "Someone else is capable of doing this, I don't want to." There's a direct relationship between the size of the population and the number of social loafers, i.e. the larger the group, the more lazy asses you have. I, proudly, am one of those lazy asses when it comes to the world of being a true skeptic.
Yes, you can try to prove to me that I'm not sitting in a freezing basement two days before my sister gets married and flexing my creative muscle. Yes, it might make you a dick. Do I want to be that dick? Only some of the time. I want to ask questions, to seek out new life (in the form of thought), to boldly go where probably several chill dudes have gone before. Or to quietly listen.
Philosophy, my chosen crutch, is something that I think has changed me for the better. It taught me to listen. Not to hear words, or give comfort. It taught me to think as I received the input, to stretch out past my physical limits and process on a higher level. Or a lower one. Something like that.
Listening to the world, to the voices in your head (within reason), to your growling stomach, to the birds, the sound of the pine forest, a blasting good rock song, or to a friend in need - all of these things are needed. We all want them - nature, friendship, a damn good rock show once in a while. What happens to them if no one asks where they've gone?
So this is my cynicism - the acceptance that some of these things change without me, or with me, or to spite me. To paraphrase Douglas Adams, I'm the most insignificant thing in the universe in the big scheme of things.
To the optimism, then. It doesn't matter that I'm small. It doesn't matter that I'm mostly uneducated, or inarticulate, or actually really uncoordinated and funny looking. I find that happiness can be a choice, a process, or a goal. That you can be happy given the worst situation in the smallest ways. Stuck in a snow drift? Good! You can listen to the radio for a while. Call AAA, of course, but get a chance to listen to something good on NPR or the Current. Got dumped? Ah, that's a tough one. How do you get back to happy after something's over? There are a few ways, steps, whatever, but I find the best was this: just do it.
These are still at odds, however. A true cynic and a true optimist are oxymoronic in most ways. The Tao teaches that nature is balance. Keeping these two halves of myself together allows me to deal with everything that comes up. Two parts, working together, assorted bad metaphors and similes to follow.
Call me a catch-22, or something that wasn't a fantastic novel. Call me a Yeti, it's happened before. But the day I stop believing that it's going to turn out with a happy ending, the day that I no longer ask why something is, or just give up in general - that's the day I stop being who I told myself I am.
Who knows? That could be fun too.
Eh, maybe. Maybe it doesn't make any sense to tell people that you expect reality and are always pleased to find out that you're wrong. Maybe I'm a fool to laugh at funerals and play music that no one can hear.
Prove me wrong. No seriously, do it. I'd like to think I've got enough of a training in logical deduction after four years of college that I'd be able to sit back and objectively say, "I have no right to laugh at the things I do, to giggle when the ketchup bottle makes fart noises in public, or to expect that people will always surprise me." If anyone can provide an argument good enough to change my mind, I will, and say I was wrong the entire time.
On the other hand, let's shift the burden of proof. Suppose I tell you why I'm a cynical optimist instead of a rose-colored-glasses skeptic.
Skepticism has its place in our society. If people aren't asking questions, challenging conventions, or willing to throw out that they think that something is wrong, then we're in trouble. I will never dispute this, but I probably won't end up filling the role of the hardcore skeptic. Here's why:
There's a concept in sociology called "social loafing." Given a certain size population, any number of people with jobs to do are going to say "Someone else is capable of doing this, I don't want to." There's a direct relationship between the size of the population and the number of social loafers, i.e. the larger the group, the more lazy asses you have. I, proudly, am one of those lazy asses when it comes to the world of being a true skeptic.
Yes, you can try to prove to me that I'm not sitting in a freezing basement two days before my sister gets married and flexing my creative muscle. Yes, it might make you a dick. Do I want to be that dick? Only some of the time. I want to ask questions, to seek out new life (in the form of thought), to boldly go where probably several chill dudes have gone before. Or to quietly listen.
Philosophy, my chosen crutch, is something that I think has changed me for the better. It taught me to listen. Not to hear words, or give comfort. It taught me to think as I received the input, to stretch out past my physical limits and process on a higher level. Or a lower one. Something like that.
Listening to the world, to the voices in your head (within reason), to your growling stomach, to the birds, the sound of the pine forest, a blasting good rock song, or to a friend in need - all of these things are needed. We all want them - nature, friendship, a damn good rock show once in a while. What happens to them if no one asks where they've gone?
So this is my cynicism - the acceptance that some of these things change without me, or with me, or to spite me. To paraphrase Douglas Adams, I'm the most insignificant thing in the universe in the big scheme of things.
To the optimism, then. It doesn't matter that I'm small. It doesn't matter that I'm mostly uneducated, or inarticulate, or actually really uncoordinated and funny looking. I find that happiness can be a choice, a process, or a goal. That you can be happy given the worst situation in the smallest ways. Stuck in a snow drift? Good! You can listen to the radio for a while. Call AAA, of course, but get a chance to listen to something good on NPR or the Current. Got dumped? Ah, that's a tough one. How do you get back to happy after something's over? There are a few ways, steps, whatever, but I find the best was this: just do it.
These are still at odds, however. A true cynic and a true optimist are oxymoronic in most ways. The Tao teaches that nature is balance. Keeping these two halves of myself together allows me to deal with everything that comes up. Two parts, working together, assorted bad metaphors and similes to follow.
Call me a catch-22, or something that wasn't a fantastic novel. Call me a Yeti, it's happened before. But the day I stop believing that it's going to turn out with a happy ending, the day that I no longer ask why something is, or just give up in general - that's the day I stop being who I told myself I am.
Who knows? That could be fun too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)