What I've Been Reading - 2010, part 1

Having done a post on Charles Darwin's Origin of Species after reading it a few months back, I'd been thinking it'd be interesting to jot down a few thoughts about some novels and other books I've been reading. I intended to start doing so earlier in the year, so here I'm going to go back to a few that I read in January or thereabouts and work my way up to the present.

Sometime in January I finished reading a trilogy of fantasy books called the Bitterbynde by an Australian author named Cecilia Dart-Thronton. The individual books are entitled The Ill-Made Mute, The Lady of the Sorrows, and The Battle of Evernight. They stand out from a lot of other fantasy books in that they are more directly based on English and Celtic mythology, and even more notably due to Dart-Thornton's prose. The latter might be described as elegant or florid, depending on your perspective, but it is fairly impressive either way. I'll have to admit that she used a fair amount of vocabulary that was unfamiliar to me (my vocabulary is not as huge as some people's, but it's certainly well above average). The same can be said of her descriptive passages, in which she vividly describes natural scenes, the clothing of the characters, or even the food at feasts. I'll admit to mixed feelings about this element. On the one hand, I admire her ability to describe things so colorfully, especially since I find descriptive writing particularly hard, and these passages certainly help the reader to envision the scene. On the other hand, at times there was a little bit too much of it for my personal taste, such that I'd be in hurry for her to finish and get on with the story. Nevertheless, it is this kind of thing that made her books stand out.

The story takes place in a land that humans share with various spirits known as wights, which fall into two categories: seelie (friendly) and unseelie (hostile). The land was also in the past subject to visits from fairy folk known as the Faerun, who live in a land that exists in a sort of parallel dimension which can only be entered through certain gates, but the gates are now shut and the Faerun have not been seen in centuries. This relationship between the world of fairy and the human world is based on medieval myths, and also bears a strong resemblance to the fairy world described in Tolkien's "Smith of Wootton Major". In fact, given both Dart-Thornton's use of mythology and her prose, I'd be inclined to guess that Tolkien would have liked her books. A careful reader will also note that Dart-Thornton, aside from being inspired by writers like Tolkien, is a fan of classic rock bands like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin.

I won't go into the plot here, except to say it is filled with twists and turns. To some degree, it's a standard romantic fantasy, but it's told in a more interesting manner than most. The main character, though generally a clever person, does occasionally make some unaccountably foolish decisions that seem in part mainly designed to keep the story exciting, though I'll grant that clever people can sometimes do foolish things (I do myself frequently enough). Overall the plot is not all that original, though some of the twists are unexpected; the book is still essentially escapist fantasy, though generally an enjoyable one. Another point is that the ending of the trilogy as published is a bit vague, such that the reader can't be entirely sure there's a happy ending. She published a long final chapter giving a more concrete ending to the book on her website.

Another interesting thing about these books is how they got published. According to her own account, Dart-Thornton had written the entire thing but had not shown it to anyone except one close friend, due to an aversion to criticism. She sent a small part of her work to an online writier's workshop run by a sci-fi/fantasy publisher that gave editor's choice awards every month. She won two straight awards and then received a message from one of the editors, who told her that she shouldn't be with the workshop, because her work was publishable. He then gave her contact info for a literary agent in New York, who immediately signed her up. Then a few weeks later, Time Warner bought the rights to all her books for a six-figure advance. Certainly few authors have such sudden success.

After finishing the Bitterbynde trilogy, I read Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon, a well-known modern author. This particular novel is a historical novel set in the 10th century CE in the Caucasus region, more specifically the kingdom of the Khazars. Chabon says his working title was Jews with Swords, which tended to evoke odd images in the minds of most who heard it due to most people's stereotypes of Jews. The main characters in actual fact remind me of Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, though other obvious inspirations are Alexander Dumas and Michael Moorcock. It's essentially an adventure tale, but a well-told one with interesting plot twists and surprises. Slightly annoying to me personally is more than one key element in the story resembles some vague story ideas I had myself for a fantasy-type novel. But I suppose the ideas aren't entirely original in any case, and it's irrelevant unless I actually write something. Anyway, I certainly recommend this one for an enjoyable quick read that has more substance than the average tale of its sort.

On our way to the US in February, I started reading The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe. This was originally published as four books, The Shadow of the Torturer, The Claw of the Conciliator, The Sword of the Lictor, and The Citadel of the Autarch. I only had the first of these, but I was able to find The Claw of the Conciliator at Half Price Books. Finding the last two proved more trouble. I did see a copy of the third book but not the fourth, until I found an omnibus edition entitled Sword and Citadel which included both (the first two books have also been republished as Shadow and Claw) at a used bookstore in Denton. The sales clerk commented particularly on this book out of all the books I bought on that occasion; she said she loved Wolfe's books and had turned much of her family onto his work. She also claimed that his books didn't last long in secondhand bookstores because they are always bought quickly (perhaps not entirely true, as a few of them were available on separate trips to Half Price, but they did seem to be less common than one might expect).

So, having got a hold of the entire Book of the New Sun, I proceeded to read all of it (I did read a few other things between volumes, like Arthur Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles, but I'm not going to attempt to cover those here). It is without doubt a much more complicated book than many of its genre. The exact genre itself is not immediately obvious; the protagonist, Severian, belongs to a medieval-style guild and carries a sword, the city he lives in resembles a large, ramshackle medieval city, there are hints of sorcery and other supernatural powers, and the soldiers of the ruler wear armor and are often mounted. All this resembles fantasy, but then the spear-like weapons some soldiers carry turn out to be energy weapons, there are references to fliers and energy pistols, and also to creatures known as cacogens that come from beyond the Urth (as the planet is known). So it soon becomes apparent that the book is actually a tale of Earth in the far distant future, and that it is what is sometimes known as science fantasy, a mix of science fiction and fantasy (another example, but more fantasy oriented, is the Dying Earth books of Jack Vance which Gary Gygax derived the magic system for Dungeons and Dragons from).

The tale is told in the form of a memoir by the main character, Severian. As the story begins, he is of all things an apprentice of a guild known euphemistically as the Order of the Seekers for Truth and Penitence, but more accurately as the guild of torturers. Having been raised as an orphan to perform such a grim job, Severian does have at times a somewhat callous disregard for human suffering, but ultimately his humane side wins through. As a narrator, Severian has a tendency to jump around somewhat in his tale, and he may not be completely reliable in his retelling of it. There is more than a little allegory present in the tale, and there are also clear echoes of Christianity, most obviously in the Conciliator, a prophet of centuries past who was supposedly sent by the Increate (i.e., the Creator), had healing powers, and is expected to come again bringing the New Sun, which will renew the world. Severian itself seems to have a mysterious connection with the Conciliator that becomes apparent as the story unfolds.

The Book of the New Sun is not what is known as hard sci-fi and so some elements of the tale are not entirely in accordance with our current understanding of science. Much is left unexplained in Severian's account, and the reader is forced to guess at the meaning of many things he mentions. Wolfe's use of language is interesting; he presents the book as a translation into present-day English of Severian's memoir from the distant future. He uses obscure words to "translate" Severian's terms for many of the creatures and objects of his words, such as "destrier" for the horse-like (but actually alien) creatures some soldiers ride or "optimates" (from the ancient Roman political grouping) as a term of respect similar to "sir". One use of language I found particularly interesting was his way of describing nightfall; he speaks of the horizon rising to cover the sun or the Urth (Earth) turning its face away from the sun. This is of course a more accurate way of describing what actual happens than our "the sun sets" or "the sun sinks beneath the horizon", though it takes some getting used to.

Because of the relative complexity and depth of The Book of the New Sun, a number of other writers have apparently published books interpreting it in depth, something rather unusual for science fiction. While I'm not sure that I could see myself actually buying a book of that sort, it might be interesting to read one. While there may be other novels more worth of in depth interpretation, The Book of the New Sun does seem more worthy of such attention than some others (The DaVinci Code comes to mind). In any case, it is worth checking out for anyone who enjoys a book with a bit of substance to it.

Over much of March, my bedtime reading was the Dhammapada, a Buddhist scripture traditionally ascribed to Siddhartha Gautama (aka the Buddha) himself. It is a part of the Khuddaka Nikaya, one of the five collections in the Sutta Pitaka, which is one of the three divisions of the Tipitaka ("three baskets") of the Pali Canon, the collection of Theravada Buddhist scriptures (the entire Pali Canon could fill a bookshelf), though apparently many of the Dhammapada's verses appear elsewhere in the canon. It is unlikely that it actually goes back as far as Gautama himself, though it is probably fairly early. It is one of the best known Theravada scriptures and is highly regarded by some (it was one of the first Pali texts to receive attention from European academics), though others consider it to be full of cliches, pointing out that many of its aphorisms are not specific to Buddhism. Of course the same might be said of verses in the scriptures of other religions, and in some ways the presence of more general philosophical and moral injunctions may support the view that it is particularly early if not actually the work of Siddhartha Gautama himself, as later writings would tend to be more orthodox and specific to Buddhism. I will not for now pronounce in any detail my own views as to the merits of the Dhammapada, as if I did so I might feel compelled to compare it to other religious scriptures and philosophical works I've read over the past few years, including a smattering of other Buddhist scriptures, selections from the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Koran (Qur'an), much of the Bible, the Analects of Confucius, Plato's Republic, and the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching), and that would be a lot of work as well as opening up a whole new set of issues to discuss. I may change my mind in the future about getting into the thorny topic of comparative religion and philosophy, but for now I'll just say the Dhammapada was interesting, though also effective as a soporific (as most of the other religious and philosophical works mentioned above have been).

With that, I conclude my review of much of my recent reading. I may do this again in a month or two if I decide some of the books I read merit similar treatment (and if I can be bothered). Whether or not I do further entries like this or not, you can be sure I'll still be doing plenty of reading. So many books to read, so little time....

Independence, Secession, and More

The other day on signing out of a hotmail account, I was as usual taken to the MSN website. Like Yahoo and similar sites, on the front page there are a number of featured "news" stories. I put that in quotations because, on the Taiwan version of the MSN site at least, these stories are for the most part are completely inane and pointless, or even worse than pointless. Many are along the lines of "celebrity A and celebrity B have broken up/started dating/been seeing eating dinner together" or "celebrity C cries as she talks about her dead father" or "celebrity D wears outfit which shows lots of cleavage" (not that I have any objection to cleavage; it's simply that something like this is about as far from newsworthy as it is possible to get). Then there is absurdly unscientific nonsense like which astrological signs are most likely to have affairs. But while one of the "headlines" the other day was also not really newsworthy, it at least was something that could give rise to further discussion, even if only be virtue of its absurdity.

The news item in question said that a Chinese celebrity had claimed that several Taiwanese celebrities were pro-Taiwan independence, and the latter had angrily denied it, with at least one threatening legal action. Now the first thing that struck me as absurd was the reaction of the Taiwanese stars. I can understand being unhappy at someone saying something false about me, but the strength of my reaction would depend on what it was. In this case, it would be somewhat like having someone say I liked Ma Yingjeou (or, for that matter, Chen Shuibian). I would be annoyed simply because it wasn't true, and it would be a definite mischaracterization of my political views. However, I wouldn't threaten to sue anyone over it. I wouldn't even threaten to sue anyone who said I liked George W. Bush, though I might be tempted.

To be sure, a person's political inclinations are often an important part of who they are, as they say something about the person's principles and philosophy of life. But still, it is absurd to react to a false statement about your political views as if you had been accused of murder, domestic violence or other reprehensible behavior. It's even more absurd in this case, as being "pro-Taiwan independence" is the position anyone rational, relatively unbiased, and in possession of a modicum of relevant facts should take. I won't go into a full recitation of the arguments on this issue here as they deserve a separate essay (I may have one already written somewhere), but simply put, Taiwan is already a de facto independent state (which is why I don't really like the term "pro-independence", as it implies advocating becoming independent rather than just acknowledging an existing reality) and its historical ties to China are far more tenuous than the Chinese government and other pro-unification types would have everyone believe. Aside from this, I support the principle of self-determination, at least for regions of viable size with substantial cultural and/or historic reasons for claiming a separate identity.

This topic in turn reminds me of the fact that at the time of my recent trip to Texas, one of the major news items was the Republican and Democratic primary elections for governor of Texas, and the fact that both current governor Rick Perry and another Republican candidate (the one some news analysts called the "tea party" candidate) made statements that were generally interpreted as being in favor of Texas's secession from the US. Given what I have just said about self-determination, it might be thought that I looked favorably on these statements, but the contrary is the case. Am I being contradictory? No, as my objection is not to the idea that Texas could break away from the US, but the reasons that people like Perry tend to cite as justification for such a move.

The problem is that extreme right-wing politicians and their followers oppose the US federal government because of things like health care reform, measures to protect the environment, taxes, same sex marriage, and other issues like these. As I have stated elsewhere, the US needs health care reform, including a public option if not single payer; moves to regulate carbon emissions and to promote clean energy are even more vital, not only for the US but the world as a whole; taxes are necessary to reduce the deficit, pay for necessary government programs (and many if not most are necessary), and to promote other initiatives (e.g., gas taxes to promote energy conservation); and allowing same-sex marriage is simply a matter of justice. So if people like Perry want to leave the US in order to avoid having these things "forced" on them, then of course I will oppose them. If, on the other hand, a US state wanted to leave the US in order to more easily accomplish reforms of this sort, then I would support them, particularly if there were additional historical or cultural reasons for the state in question to become independent (such as in the case of Hawaii).

A good analogy would be the American Civil War in the 19th century and the period leading up to it. The Chinese like to cite this as an analogy for their opposition to separatism though they of course ignore the fact that Taiwan has already been separate from China for a long time, and places like Tibet and East Turkestan were forcibly incorporated territories, more analogous to the Southwest US, Native American lands or Hawaii than to the southern US states, which originally joined the US voluntarily. They say that their "anti-separatism" is like Lincoln's refusal to let the South secede. While this is not really true for the reasons mentioned, I will also say that Lincoln was in the wrong in his denial of the right of states to secede. However, the South was also wrong, because their reason for seceding was because they wanted to maintain slavery. Some now try to claim that the Civil War was not really about slavery, but about states' rights, economic power and so forth. But while there were certainly other factors involved, slavery was clearly the main cause of the conflict. The "right" that the southern states were most interested in was their "right" to legalized slavery. This is proven by the endless disputes over slavery that preceded the war, and the fact that they opposed Lincoln and the Republicans because they were considered abolitionists. So to claim that the Civil War was not about slavery is obviously nonsense.

Likewise, when southerners like Strom Thurmond and George Wallace ran as third-party candidates in presidential elections in the mid-20th century, while they were running under the banner of "states' rights", the right that they were particularly concerned with was the "right" to segregate blacks from whites. No government has the right to maintain oppressive systems like slavery and segregation, so to claim independence in order to do so is obviously not acceptable. Likewise, I don't support the right of a state like Texas to secede in order to avoid obviously progressive measures. As I stated above, I do support its right to secede in principle, as long as it is doing so for good reasons. While someone like Rick Perry is almost certainly never going to have a good reason for supporting Texan independence, if someday some politician does call for secession for a good reason, then I'll certainly give their ideas consideration. And if someone says I'm pro-secession with regard to Texas, while it wouldn't be true now, I wouldn't sue them for saying it.

Secular Reasons

The other day I saw an interesting opinion piece on the NY Times website entitled "Are There Secular Reasons?" (http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/22/are-there-secular-reasons/). For those who can't be bothered to click on the link (or in case the link goes dead), I'll try to summarize the argument made by the writer, Stanley Fish, who is in turn summarizing arguments made by professor of law Steven Smith in his book The Disenchantment of Secular Discourse. To begin with, Fish talks about the effort of secular thinkers to separate religiously-based reasoning from purely secular reasoning, and to establish the latter as the sole basis for organizing a society. He then goes on to talk about Smith's thesis that in fact it is impossible to make any sort of value judgments on the basis of secular reasoning alone, as secular thought is only capable of collecting and analyzing data, but not of deciding what to do with it, without importing non-secular concepts and value judgments. Smith asks how "could one squeeze moral values or judgments about justice . . . out of brute empirical facts?" As Smith and Fish in turn point out, a number of people have made similar arguments in the past. In addition to the thinkers they mention, the arguments made by C.S. Lewis in The Abolition of Man fall along the same lines. For that matter, even my own first post on this blog acknowledges the fact that it is impossible to make wholly objective judgments about anything, a point which is related to the one being made here.

Though I think Smith and Fish, like others before them, make some very good points, ultimately I don't agree that it is impossible to make any moral judgments based on secular reasoning alone, or at least, it is only necessary to include one concept that is arguably from "the suspect realm of contested substantive values". That concept is that it is better to be happy than it is to be unhappy. Even this can be said to have an empirical basis, at least in that if you did a study in which you asked people to give their own (admittedly subjective) answer to this question, the answers would be overwhelmingly positive, and all sorts of studies have already shown that happy people are healthier and live longer. In any case, if we, to use Smith's terminology, "smuggle in" this one concept, virtually everything else on which modern liberal philosophy is based can be argued from this basis without resorting to much vaguer ideas like "freedom" or "equality" (though these can also be supported by arguments starting from the concept that "happiness is good").

If we accept that it is better to be happy than unhappy, then the next question we have to ask is what kind of society is most conducive to individual happiness? It might seem at first glance that one in which everyone is completely free to pursue whatever makes them as individuals happy would be ideal. But if everyone is free to pursue their own happiness at the expense of others, many conflicts will result, and so everyone will in the end not be happy, except possibly those few who through great fortune or skill always end up on top. Even these individuals will always be under threat from others if their luck takes a bad turn, so it is questionable whether their happiness will be that secure. So if complete unfettered individualism isn't the ideal basis for a society, than what is?

A simple answer is a society that follows what we call the golden rule, i.e., we should treat others as we want to be treated. If everyone is pleasant to everyone else, ultimately everyone will be happier. It might be added that it is in the end to the advantage of those who are more fortunate to give up a little to ensure the happiness of those less fortunate, as again it has been demonstrated by all sorts of studies as well as by much of human history that societies with too large a gap between the advantaged and the disadvantage are at risk for all sorts of problems and conflicts, which again will result in less happiness for all. Furthermore, it can also be argued that restrictions on behavior beyond those necessary to prevent people from strongly hindering the happiness of others (as in the golden rule) reduce happiness for many and create further conflicts. So both equality and freedom, at least in a general sense, can be argued to be good simply from our starting proposition.

Admittedly the above is extremely simplified, and the fact that no one can be completely objective will complicate any detailed arguments. But my point is one can argue the good of a modern liberal society from secular reasoning alone, assisted by at most one "imported" value judgment. Furthermore, it's worth pointing out that the argument of Smith et al gives rise to the question of what they think value judgments and society's rules in general should be based on. If values from religion, then what religion? On what basis is that particular value judgment to be made? Ultimately this argument simply leads us in circles. If, on the other hand, we simply start from the goal of trying to maximize happiness for the greatest number of people, then we can argue all the other details from there, using purely secular reasoning. While this does not necessarily mean that there is no truth in religion or that religion might not be meaningful for the soul (assuming we have them, which is another argument altogether), it does mean that society can and indeed should be founded on a secular basis.