I finished the last half of Shōgun, James Clavell’s 1200-page 1975 historical novel, on my recent vacation, riveted the entire time. I loved reading it and possibly enjoyed it more than Hulu’s TV series (which is saying something). The TV version hews pretty closely to the text but the major difference is in the amount of detail and explanation available to the book’s readers. There’s just so much more intrigue & plotting in the book and the reader is much more aware of what’s going on than in the show (the reader has access to the inner dialogue of multiple characters), but without sacrificing any of the suspense or drama. And the end of the book is devastating — I was completely gutted by it.
Anyway, I’ve been poking around to see what else I can read/watch/listen to about Shōgun and the historical period in which it’s set. Here’s what I’ve found so far:
Just before the 1980 miniseries was broadcast, a group of scholars published a book called Learning from Shōgun: Japanese History and Western Fantasy. “This book is intended for those who have read James Clavell’s Shōgun and who are curious about its educational significance as ‘A Novel of Japan.’” The book is out of print but I found this PDF copy on Columbia’s website and have been reading it with interest. I wonder though how contemporary scholars would react to Shōgun.
Naturally, there are podcasts. The Hulu series has an official podcast (also available on YouTube). The Prestige TV Podcast did 60-minute+ recaps on all the episodes (first episode on Apple & Spotify). A Short History of Japan podcast runs 35 episodes…it looks like the last few cover the period in question. (I haven’t listened to any of these yet, so ymmv.)
If anyone has any advice on what to watch/read/listen to about this period of Japanese history, please share it in the comments. The resources I found are mostly Western, so I’d be especially interested in English translations of Japanese resources.
The USPS has announced that they will be issuing stamps based on the children’s classic Goodnight Moon, written by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Clement Hurd, and first published in 1947.
The Postal Service notes that “these designs are preliminary and may change”. Goodnight Moon was the very first bedtime book for our kids — we read it to them so so so many times. I will be buying some of these stamps for sure.
Over the last few days, I’ve been reading Ken Liu’s new translation of Laozi’s Dao De Jing. (Liu translated the first and third books in The Three-Body Problem trilogy.) Today, on a dark day for America, I thought that we could all use some of his wisdom.
Favor takes power from you. When you don’t have it, you crave it. When you do have it, you dread losing it.
…
Thus, only those who can value the body politic as their own body should be entrusted with power; only those who love the body politic as they love themselves deserve authority.
On leaders:
The best sort? The people don’t even know they’re there. The next-best sort? The people love them and praise them. A rank below that? The people fear them. The worst? The people are contemptuous of them.
…
A country teetering on the edge of collapse is filled with patriots.
…
Why does a lord of ten thousand chariots treat the fate of the world so lightly?
…
Delight not in victory, for to delight in victory is to delight also in killing. Pleasure in killing will never win over the world.
…
Lords stride about in glorious clothes, carry sharp swords, eat so much good food that they’re sick of it, and hoard wealth beyond measure. They’re bandits and robbers, having wandered far from Dao.
…
The more people arm themselves, the more chaotic the country.
…
The people go hungry when those above eat too much. The people are hard to govern when those above crave great deeds. The people care little for lives when those above care too much about good living.
…
The soft and yielding overcome the strong and powerful.
This ain’t no thing, man, you know what I mean? You come in here, man, and get your mind right — get in here and you do two days: that’s the day you come in this motherfucker and the day you get out this motherfucker.
Minds right, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow, no matter what.
The book contains a complete storyboard that tells the narrative of the proposed Dune film shot by shot, in addition to depictions of all the featured characters, vehicles, and environments by the greatest sci-fi artists of the time.
A similar copy of the book was sold for $3 million in 2021 to a bunch of crypto-dopes who “believed that the purchase granted them the copyright to the book, which they intended to splice and sell as NFTs before burning the physical copy”.
As much as I would hate to see su filindeu fade away, I understand why Abraini doesn’t want to teach it to any Canadian or Greek chef who calls her out of the blue. Sure, after several years, she may succeed in passing on the skill, but as she told me, when you take something that is so intertwined with a specific place, a specific event, and a specific pastoral code, and you present it in a different context, “it’s no longer the threads of God; it’s just pulled pasta.”
“There are only three ingredients: semolina wheat, water and salt,” Abraini said, vigorously kneading the dough back and forth. “But since everything is done by hand, the most important ingredient is elbow grease.”
Abraini patiently explained how you work the pasta thoroughly until it reaches a consistency reminiscent of modelling clay, then divide the dough into smaller sections and continue working it into a rolled-cylindrical shape.
Then comes the hardest part, a process she calls, “understanding the dough with your hands.” When she feels that it needs to be more elastic, she dips her fingers into a bowl of salt water. When it needs more moisture, she dips them into a separate bowl of regular water. “It can take years to understand,” she beamed. “It’s like a game with your hands. But once you achieve it, then the magic happens.”
Spanning four decades, the series opens with the shocking disappearance of Jean McConville, a single mother of ten who was abducted from her home in 1972 and never seen alive again.
Telling the story of various Irish Republican Army (IRA) members, Say Nothing explores the extremes some people will go to in the name of their beliefs, the way a deeply divided society can suddenly tip over into armed conflict, the long shadow of radical violence for all affected, and the emotional and psychological costs of a code of silence.
Veteran Republican Marian Price intends to sue Disney+ after she was depicted shooting Jean McConville in one of the most notorious murders of the Troubles, a law firm has said.
Mrs McConville was abducted, murdered and secretly buried by the IRA in 1972, becoming one of the disappeared.
Her body was eventually found more than 30 years later at a beach in County Louth in the Republic of Ireland.
Ms Price, 70, also known by her married name Marian McGlinchey, has denied any involvement.
Well, I really don’t know what happened here. One minute it was the second week of January 2024 and the next minute we’re a scant 12 hours away from 2025 — a ludicrously futuristic date, a sci-fi date. And I didn’t do a media diet post all year! I have no excuse; it just…didn’t happen. Over and over and over and over again — it just kept not happening!
As penance, and for my last post of the year, here’s a giant media diet recap of (almost) everything I read, watched, listened to, and experienced in the year of our lord 2024. (I’ll try to break it up into smaller chunks next year… 🤞)
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney. I am just totally in the tank for how Rooney writes about power dynamics & interpersonal interactions. I think maybe this is my second-favorite of hers after Normal People? (A)
Shōgun. My favorite show of the year by a mile — so good all around. (A+)
Developing AI Like Raising Kids. Engaging and wide-ranging podcast conversation between Alison Gopnik and Ted Chiang about what caregiving and designing AI systems might have in common. (A)
GNX. The latest album from Kendrick Lamar has been on heavy rotation in my car since it came out. (A)
Dune: Part Two. I loved this, particularly in IMAX. It’s a better film than the first part and very rewatchable (I’ve seen it ~5 times?). I hope Villeneuve does another one. (A+)
Dune. I went back and rewatched this after seeing Dune: Part Two and it all made so much more sense. I can’t remember ever seeing a sequel that improved the first film in retrospect. Empire Strikes Back maybe? (A)
XOXO 2024. It was so good to see so many old friends and meet some new ones. (A)
The 2024 total solar eclipse. Not quiiiite as mind-blowing as my first time, but it was great to bust out the telescope and share the experience with friends and eclipse newbies. (A+)
May December. Natalie Portman & Julianne Moore were both fantastic in this. (A-)
The Incredibles. A perfect movie. No flab. Hits all the right notes. (A+)
The Incredibles 2. When this came out, I preferred it to the first movie. Now having seen them back-to-back, the sequel is not quite the equal to the original. But still great. (A)
Anatomy of a Fall. A gripping legal & family drama from director Justine Triet. (A-)
The Big Dig. A nine-part, in-depth podcast on how the massive Boston highway project got done. Would recommend for governance and infrastructure nerds but also for anyone who is curious about how things get done (or not) in America. (A)
Princess Mononoke. My favorite Ghibli movie — so great to be able to see it at the theater. Just gorgeous. (A)
Mad Max: Fury Road. My umpteenth rewatch confirms: a perfect movie. (A+)
Godzilla Minus One. Not a Godzilla scholar, but this is certainly the best Godzilla movie I’ve ever seen. A real gem of a movie. (A)
Funspot. Billed as “the world’s largest arcade”, the real attraction of Funspot for me is the 250+ classic games and pinball machines (Star Wars, Frogger, Donkey Kong, Burgertime, Gorgar, Dig Dug, Mr Do!, etc.) I took my teenaged kids here last summer and they loved it. Plus, $20 in tokens kept the three of us entertained for almost two hours. (A)
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. I watched this twice — the first time I thought it was alright (was Anya Taylor-Joy the right choice for the lead?) but I loved it the second time around (Anya Taylor-Joy was the right choice for the lead). (A)
Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. It’s been awhile since I’ve fallen in love with a Star Trek series, but this one got me hooked right away. (The commenters in this thread were spot on with their recommendations.) I absolutely love the cast and the episodic format. I blazed through season one, am still stinge watching season two, and am delighted that the show has been renewed for two more seasons. (A)
All Fours by Miranda July. A truly weird book that I loved. Listen to the audiobook version if you can…July’s voice acting (I can’t really call it mere narration) really adds to the experience. (A)
Lawrence of Arabia. I’d never seen this before but I got a chance to see it on a big screen this summer and was blown away by it. A truly gorgeous film. (A)
The Zone of Interest. I’m not a particular fan of Jonathan Glazer, but this film was brutal and chilling and boring. The sound design was absolutely brilliant. (A-)
Long Island Compromise by Taffy Brodesser-Akner. Brodesser-Akner is a hell of a writer. (A)
Capitalism. Another banger from Scene on Radio, which you may remember from their excellent podcast series on whiteness, American history, and the climate crisis. Their series on capitalism is typically thought-provoking and informative. (A)
The Great British Bake Off (2023 season). When each new season of Bake Off starts, I’m always like “who are these chuck-a-lucks?” and by about the fourth episode I’d run through a wall for any of the bakers. Such a great format & vibe to this show. (A)
Poor Things. Really enjoyed this. Emma Stone was fantastic. (A-)
The Diplomat (season two). I can’t tell if this show is actually good or if I just really, really like it. But I’ll tell you who’s actually good though: Allison Janney — she swooped in for the final two episodes and upstaged the rest of the really talented cast. (A-)
Gladiator. Rewatched in anticipation of the sequel. A neeeearly perfect movie. I can’t really even put my finger on why it isn’t quite flawless — there’s like 3-5 minutes that could be reworked or cut or something. But still, a great film that I love to watch. (A)
Things Become Other Things. I regret to inform you that the irritatingly nice & talented Craig Mod is also good at writing memoirs. The bastard. (A)
Chernobyl. I rewatched this with my son this fall and I’d forgotten just how good it is. One of the best TV things of the past decade. The courtroom scene with Legasov and his blue & red cards is one of the best & simplest explanations of the reactor’s explosion you’ll find anywhere. (A)
James by Percival Everett. It’s a close call, but I think this retelling of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was my favorite book of 2024. The audiobook version, narrated by Dominic Hoffman, is fantastic. (A)
Dookie Demastered. Green Day “demastered” their 1994 album Dookie into 15 “obscure, obsolete, and inconvenient” formats, like wax cylinder, Fisher Price record, Teddy Ruxpin, and player piano roll. Brilliant. (A)
Shōgun by James Clavell. I’m nearly halfway through this 1300-page behemoth, but I wanted to include it here because I’m blazing through it and enjoying it so much. (A-)
How Playwright Annie Baker Made the Movie of the Summer. This podcast conversation between Sam Fragoso and Annie Baker is fascinating because of Baker’s polite but insistent refusal to adhere to the social conventions of a media interview. (A)
Conclave. I can’t decide if this film is overwrought or just the right amount of wrought. Well-acted though and compelling. (B+)
Cléo from 5 to 7. I appreciated this film more than I enjoyed it. (B)
Fallout. A promising first season; I’m glad they’re doing another. (B+)
Past Lives. Greta Lee is great in this. And that last scene, ooof. (B+)
Moonbound by Robin Sloan. Was pretty charmed by this, in part because it was fun trying to connect the narrative & themes of the book to Sloan’s preoccupations on his mailing list over the past 2-3 years. (B+)
For All Mankind (season four). My pre-season musing about this show being “a prequel/origin story for The Expanse” hold up pretty well, I think. (B+)
The Holdovers. A mostly wholesome Christmas-time Breakfast Club. (A-)
The Great (season three). This didn’t have the zing of the first season, but it was better than the second. (B+)
Reservation Dogs. I am going to get yelled at for this but I enjoyed the first season more than the subsequent two. I appreciate what they did with the second and third seasons on an intellectual level (it’s brilliant, multi-generational storytelling) but I found my attention drifting as I tried to keep up with all of the connections. (A-)
Civil War. I’d like to see this again — I’m still not sure if I liked it or if it was any good. (B)
Constellation. Was disappointed with this show. Would have been an interesting three-episode series — instead we got eight ponderous episodes. (C)
3 Body Problem. Netflix did pretty well with this adaptation and the changes made sense. Looking forward to see where they go with the next season. (B+)
The Three-Body Problem trilogy by Cixin Liu. Well, after watching the TV series, I went back to read the three-book series for the third time. Was a little let down this time for whatever reason. (B)
Alien. Saw this in the theater over the summer and didn’t like it quite as much as I have in the past. (B+)
The Gilded Age. A gorgeously filmed and costumed guilty pleasure. Who is going to keep making this kind of series after Julian Fellowes retires? (A-)
Rebel Moon. Aka Zach Snyder’s Star Wars. Couldn’t finish this it was so bad. What a hack. (D)
Leave the World Behind. I watched this way back in January and had to paste the title into Google to see what it even was. I remember it being pretty uneven. But it also introduced me to Myha’la. (B-)
The Marvels. I honestly don’t remember much of this, just that it didn’t have the, uh, goodness of the first one. (B)
Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Saw this on the big screen this summer, which was worth it for the pod race and the “duel of the fates” lightsaber battle at the end. (B-)
Petite Maman. A film of quiet impact by Céline Sciamma. I didn’t know anything about this going in and was delighted by where it went. (A-)
Frankenstein.Hot Frank Summer! I really tried to get into this but just couldn’t…I got bored and gave up a third of the way in. (C+)
Devs. Rewatched this with my son and didn’t like as much as I did the first time. I found it a little too self-serious. (B+)
Star Wars: The Acolyte. Uneven but with some good moments. Glad I watched it, even though the show got cancelled. (B)
Avatar: The Last Airbender. I thought they did a good job casting the characters for this live-action series. But there’s a magic to the animated series that they didn’t capture. (B)
Fall Guy. Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt were charming and the rest of it was fine. I enjoyed the dragging of Tom Cruise. (B)
Deadpool & Wolverine. Rotten Tomatoes has this at 78% and that seems right…I liked it about 78%. (B+ (I grade on a scale apparently))
Ponyo. Another Ghibli movie I got to enjoy on the big screen. (B+)
North Woods by Daniel Mason. I would have liked this more without the magical realism. Some great parts though. (B+)
Rebel Ridge. I really enjoyed this one. This movie felt like a throwback of sorts: a solid thriller with no bells and whistles. Reminded me a bit of The Fugitive. (A-)
A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon. I enjoy the Shaun shorts more than the films, but this one had an impressive number of sci-fi references in it…the kids got annoyed at me pointing them out. (B+)
The Wild Robot. Hilarious at times, but a bit too pat when it came to the main plot/emotional core. (B)
The Good Place. Third time through on this one…a comedy classic that stuck the landing. (A)
Gladiator II. I wanted this to be better. Denzel Washington was fantastic, as was his sleeve-work. Love that the co-emperors were basically crypto YouTube bros. (B)
Alien: Romulus. Very good Alien installment. I was on the edge of my seat for the last third of the movie as the heroes raced against the inevitability of gravity — one of the best action/thriller sequences of the year, I’d reckon. (B+)
Moana 2. Watched this with an audience filled with little kids and when Maui appeared on the screen for the first time, a little boy said “Maui” in a quietly awed voice, instantly charming the entire theater. (B)
Mr Salary by Sally Rooney. I had no idea this short story existed until a few months ago. It was written before she published her debut novel. (B+)
Elf. It was nice to see Bob Newhart — I’d forgotten he was in this. (B)
Inside Out 2. Pixar is still the best studio for making kids’ movies that appeal to all ages. My kids were like, yep, pretty much what it’s like being a teenager. And I identified both with Riley and her parents. (A)
Radical Optimism. Underwhelming compared to Future Nostalgia, but I do like Houdini a lot. (B)
“These ten men were not men of distinction,” Mayer noted, but they had been members of the Nazi Party; Mayer wanted to discover what had made them Nazis. His discussions with them of Nazism, the rise of the Reich, and mass complicity with evil became the backbone of this book, an indictment of the ordinary German that is all the more powerful for its refusal to let the rest of us pretend that our moment, our society, our country are fundamentally immune.
And from an excerpt of the book describing how the road to fascism is like being a frog in a gradually heated pot of water:
“But the one great shocking occasion, when tens or hundreds or thousands will join with you, never comes. That’s the difficulty. If the last and worst act of the whole regime had come immediately after the first and smallest, thousands, yes, millions would have been sufficiently shocked — if, let us say, the gassing of the Jews in ‘43 had come immediately after the ‘German Firm’ stickers on the windows of non-Jewish shops in ‘33. But of course this isn’t the way it happens. In between come all the hundreds of little steps, some of them imperceptible, each of them preparing you not to be shocked by the next. Step C is not so much worse than Step B, and, if you did not make a stand at Step B, why should you at Step C? And so on to Step D.
“And one day, too late, your principles, if you were ever sensible of them, all rush in upon you. The burden of self-deception has grown too heavy, and some minor incident, in my case my little boy, hardly more than a baby, saying ‘Jewish swine,’ collapses it all at once, and you see that everything, everything, has changed and changed completely under your nose. The world you live in — your nation, your people — is not the world you were born in at all. The forms are all there, all untouched, all reassuring, the houses, the shops, the jobs, the mealtimes, the visits, the concerts, the cinema, the holidays. But the spirit, which you never noticed because you made the lifelong mistake of identifying it with the forms, is changed. Now you live in a world of hate and fear, and the people who hate and fear do not even know it themselves; when everyone is transformed, no one is transformed. Now you live in a system which rules without responsibility even to God. The system itself could not have intended this in the beginning, but in order to sustain itself it was compelled to go all the way.
So if you’re waiting for the grand moment when the scales tip and we are no longer a functioning democracy, you needn’t bother. It’ll be much more subtle than that. It’ll be more of the president ignoring laws passed by congress. It’ll be more demonizing of the press.
In thinking about the books I’ve read that made a significant impact on how I see and understand the world, I’d have to go with:
Various Richard Scarry books (like Cars and Trucks and Things That Go) when I was little, although Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood & Sesame Street probably had a bigger and more lasting impact on who I am as a person.
Where the Red Fern Grows was my favorite book as a child — I read it so many times. And there were these biography series for kids at my local library and I read a bunch of them. The two that I distinctly remember were the books on Thomas Edison and Harriet Tubman. From the Edison book I learned that a clever lad from the Midwest could make and invent wonderful things using your mind and your hands. And Harriet Tubman: she was straight-up a superhero and her story taught me all I needed to know about the truth of American slavery.
I first read Orwell’s 1984 in 1984, when I was 10 or 11. Probably affected my view of the world more than any other book.
How about you? What are your personal foundational texts? Note that, as I understand it, these are not simply your favorite books, but the books that mean a lot to you and have been instrumental to your development as a human.
In striking aerial images, he captures the massive scale of 21st-century agriculture that has sculpted 40 percent of the Earth’s surface.
He explores the farming of staples like wheat and rice, the cultivation of vegetables and fruits, fishing and aquaculture, and meat production. He surveys traditional farming in diverse cultures, and he penetrates vast agribusinesses that fuel international trade. From Kansas wheat fields to a shrimp cocktail’s origins in India to cattle stations in Australia larger than some countries, Steinmetz tracks the foods we eat back to land and sea, field and factory. He takes us places that most of us never see, although our very lives depend on them.
At an event last month marking the 50th anniversary of the publication of Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, actor Bryan Cranston read a passage from the book (it’s about 13 minutes long):
After some loving jabs at the devotion this book inspires and its notorious length (“There are only 50 chapters…”), Cranston reads from Power Broker’s opening pages. The performance is fun, and Cranston gets an ad-libbed laugh by archly reading “Shea Stadium,” a part of Moses’ legacy that was demolished and replaced in 2009. Cranston’s also reads some of the famous list sections that Caro rattles off in The Power Broker’s opening chapters. The drumbeat of names is Caro’s attempt to contextualize the scale of Moses’ impact, a technique cribbed from The Aeneid.
In the wake of the murder of UnitedHealthcare’s CEO, a book published in 2010 by Rutgers Law professor Jay Feinman has hit the bestseller charts: Delay, Deny, Defend: Why Insurance Companies Don’t Pay Claims and What You Can Do About It. The book’s title is a reference to an insurance industry strategy of denying legitimate claims to boost profits. Bullet casings at the scene of the shooting referenced the same strategy: they were labelled “deny”, “defend”, and “depose”.
Delay, deny, defend violates the rules for handling claims that are recognized by every company, taught to adjusters, and embodied in law. Within the vast bureaucracy of insurance companies, actuaries assess risks, underwriters price policies and evaluate prospective policyholders, and agents market policies. The claims department’s only job is to pay what is owed, no more but no less. A classic text used to train adjusters, James Markham’s The Claims Environment, states the principle: “The essential function of a claim department is to fulfill the insurance company’s promise, as set forth in the insurance policy… The claim function should ensure the prompt, fair, and efficient delivery of this promise.”
Beginning in the 1990s, many major insurance companies reconsidered this understanding of the claims process. The insight was simple. An insurance company’s greatest expense is what it pays out in claims. If it pays out less in claims, it keeps more in profits. Therefore, the claims department became a profit center rather than the place that kept the company’s promise.
A major step in this shift occurred when Allstate and other companies hired the megaconsulting firm McKinsey & Company to develop new strategies for handling claims. McKinsey saw claims as a “zero-sum game,” with the policyholder and the company competing for the same dollars. No longer would each claim be treated on its merits. Instead, computer systems would be put in place to set the amounts policyholders would be offered, claimants would be deterred from hiring lawyers to help with their claims, and settlements would be offered on a take-it-or-litigate basis. If Allstate moved from “Good Hands” to “Boxing Gloves,” as McKinsey described it, policyholders would either take a lowball offer from the good hands people or face the boxing gloves of extended litigation.
I don’t know about you, but the violence implied by the “Boxing Gloves” metaphor is particularly galling — but also germane to the national conversation we’re currently having about violence, culpability, and who is and isn’t sanctioned by the state to decide who suffers or dies.
This Beautiful Day: Daily Wisdom from Mister Rogers (Bookshop) is exactly what it says on the tin: a book of daily reflections from the writings, stories, and shows of Fred Rogers. I would be chuffed to find this under the tree on Xmas morning.
In my mind I was thinking, Yeah, OK, this old line. But I must have had a look on my face because he shook his head and laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got twin beds,” he said. With a grin he added, “And honestly, I don’t find you particularly attractive.” I was both insulted and relieved. And that’s how I became the potty-mouthed sidekick to a man eleven years older than me who was in the middle of a divorce.
I hadn’t realized Sonny was so much older than Cher, who was 16 when they met, which, uh, yeah. (via @georgehahn.bksy.social)
In 2015, the BBC & PBS adapted the first two books of Hilary Mantel’s excellent Wolf Hall trilogy into a six-episode miniseries called Wolf Hall, starring Mark Rylance as Thomas Cromwell and Damian Lewis as Henry VIII. Now they’ve made a second miniseries that covers the events of the third book, The Mirror and the Light. Here’s a trailer and synopsis:
The TV sequel picks up in May 1536 after the beheading of Anne Boleyn and follows the last four years of Thomas Cromwell’s life, completing his journey from self-made man to the most feared and influential figure of his time. These are years when Henry’s regime is severely tested by religious rebellion at home, traitors plotting abroad and the threat of invasion. Cromwell must deftly navigate the moral complexities that accompany the exercise of power in this bloody time; he’s caught between his desire to do what’s right and his instinct to survive. The question is: how long can anyone survive under Henry’s brutally mercurial gaze?
Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light premieres in the UK on BBC One on Nov 10 but Americans have to wait until March 23, 2025 to watch it on PBS.
Over the past several months, I’ve settled into a routine that involves reading one book at a time on paper or on the Kindle and listening to one book on audiobook. This way, I can switch back and forth without feeling like I am abandoning one book for the other. Right now, I am most of the way through James by Percival Everett on audiobook and just (finally!) started Craig Mod’s fine-art edition of Things Become Other Things. (Both are about very different kinds of journeys.)
For the last three years, I’ve been been getting my audiobooks through Libro.fm. You can listen through their app or download DRM-free mp3 or m4b files to listen in the app of your choice. They are a social purpose corporation, 100% employee owned, and partner with local bookstores to offer audiobooks & share profits. They don’t have every title because of Audible’s strategy of locking up exclusives (like Emily Wilson’s translations of The Iliad and the Odyssey), but they have most of what you’d want to read. They also make it easy to gift audiobooks to friends and family (and I suppose, enemies and strangers if you want?)
Just in the past few months, I’ve listened to:
All Fours by Miranda July. This is one of those books that’s better as an audiobook. July is an actress as well as an author and the audiobook is more like a performance than a reading.
James by Percival Everett. Already mentioned this one, but the narration by Dominic Hoffman is superb and emphasizes some of the vernacular differences that are key to the story that might be tougher to express in print. (Hoffman also narrated James McBride’s Deacon King Kong and Ted Chiang’s Exhalation.)
Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham. This is the definitive account of the Chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster and a great companion to HBO’s Chernobyl miniseries.
You can purchase individual audiobooks through the site or sign up for a membership where you get one free credit a month and each credit to good for one audiobook, regardless of price.
When you buy through links on kottke.org, I may earn an affiliate commission. Thanks for supporting the site!
Well! In the Yale Review, Chris Ware (one of my favorite cartoonists) writes about Richard Scarry (one of my favorite children’s book authors) and Cars and Trucks and Things That Go (one of my favorite books).
This year is the 50th anniversary of Scarry’s 1974 Cars and Trucks and Things That Go, which strikes me as a commemoration worthy of ballyhoo, especially now that, as a dad myself, I’ve spent so much time ferrying my own daughter to and from school and birthday parties in various cars that-well, mostly goed. (I’ve owned five automobiles in my life, all of them cheap, one of which smoked and required the driver’s side door to be kept shut with a bungee cord hooked to the opposite armrest, stretched across both driver and passenger. What can I say? I was a young cartoonist on a cartoonist’s budget.)
Unlike those budget vehicles, however, the new deluxe Penguin Random House anniversary edition of Cars and Trucks and Things That Go is lavishly well-made, attentively reprinted with sharp black lines and warm, rich, watercolors. It includes an especially lively afterword by Scarry’s son Huck, in which he explains, using language even a kid can understand, how his dad wrote and drew the book, as well as hinting at what it was like to grow up as the son of arguably the world’s most popular and successful children’s book author.
(Lowly was perhaps the first children’s book animal character with a real nod to the ADA and the myth of “dis”-ability, and cheerfully makes his linear form work in all sorts of inspiring and disarmingly moving ways.)
And:
But the more one looks at his work, the more one sees how the European daily grocery trip, the walk to a nearby shop or tradesman’s guild, the tiny apple car fit for a worm are not part of the blowout-all-in-for-oneself-oil-fueled-free-for-all toward which America was barreling in the late 1960s.
From the Atlantic in 1948, Death of a Pig by E.B. White is about the story that inspired the author to write Charlotte’s Web a few years later.
The scheme of buying a spring pig in blossom time, feeding it through summer and fall, and butchering it when the solid cold weather arrives, is a familiar scheme to me and follows an antique pattern. It is a tragedy enacted on most farms with perfect fidelity to the original script. The murder, being premeditated, is in the first degree but is quick and skillful, and the smoked bacon and ham provide a ceremonial ending whose fitness is seldom questioned.
Once in a while something slips — one of the actors goes up in his lines and the whole performance stumbles and halts. My pig simply failed to show up for a meal. The alarm spread rapidly. The classic outline of the tragedy was lost. I found myself cast suddenly in the role of pig’s friend and physician — a farcical character with an enema bag for a prop. I had a presentiment, the very first afternoon, that the play would never regain its balance and that my sympathies were now wholly with the pig. This was slapstick - the sort of dramatic treatment which instantly appealed to my old dachshund, Fred, who joined the vigil, held the bag, and, when all was over, presided at the interment. When we slid the body into the grave, we both were shaken to the core. The loss we felt was not the loss of ham but the loss of pig. He had evidently become precious to me, not that he represented a distant nourishment in a hungry time, but that he had suffered in a suffering world.
The producer later said that it took him 17 takes to read the death scene of Charlotte. And finally, they would walk outside, and E.B. White would go, this is ridiculous, a grown man crying over the death of an imaginary insect. And then, he would go in and start crying again when he got to that moment.
Freedom is the great American commitment, but as Snyder argues, we have lost sight of what it means — and this is leading us into crisis. Too many of us look at freedom as the absence of state power: We think we’re free if we can do and say as we please, and protect ourselves from government overreach. But true freedom isn’t so much freedom from as freedom to — the freedom to thrive, to take risks for futures we choose by working together. Freedom is the value that makes all other values possible.
Exactly one year ago today I came home, to Russia.
I didn’t manage to take a single step on the soil of my country as a free man: I was arrested even before border control.
The hero of one of my favorite books, “Resurrection,” by Leo Tolstoy, says, “Yes, the only suitable place for an honest man in Russia at the present time is prison.”
It sounds fine, but it was wrong then, and it’s even more wrong now.
There are a lot of honest people in Russia-tens of millions. There are far more than is commonly believed.
The authorities, however, who were repugnant then and are even more so now, are afraid not of honest people but of those who are not afraid of them. Or let me be more precise: those who may be afraid but overcome their fear.
There are a lot of them, too. We meet them all the time, in all sorts of places, from rallies to the media, people who remain independent. Indeed, even here, on Instagram. I recently read that the Ministry of the Interior was firing staff who had “liked” my posts. So in Russia, in 2022, even a “like” can take courage.
In every period, the essence of politics has been that a tin-pot tsar who wants to arrogate to himself the right to personal, unaccountable power needs to intimidate the honest people who are not afraid of him. And they, in turn, need to convince everyone around them that they should not be afraid, that there are, by an order of magnitude, more honest people than the mean little tsar’s security guards. Why live your whole life in fear, even being robbed in the process, if everything can be arranged differently and more justly?
The pendulum swings endlessly. Or the tug-of-war. Today you are brave. Tomorrow they seem to have scared you a bit. And the day after tomorrow they have scared you so much that you despair and become brave again.
Two years later, Navalny was dead, murdered by Russia’s leader, dictator Vladimir Putin. I do not think it is hyperbole to read Navalny’s words as a warning, a harbinger of what happens to a country and its people when they come under undemocratic leadership.
Out today from National Geographic is Infinite Cosmos, a gorgeous-looking book by Ethan Siegel (intro by Brian Greene). It’s about the history of the JWST, humanity’s biggest ever space telescope, a machine that allows us to peer deeper & clearer into the universe than ever before, and some of the amazing results obtained through its use.
Even with its unprecedented capabilities, JWST’s views of the universe are still finite and limited. The faintest, most distant objects in the cosmos — including the very first stars of all — remain invisible even in the longest-exposure JWST images acquired to date. The universe itself offers a natural enhancement, however, that can reveal features that would otherwise remain unobservable: gravitational lensing.
Whenever a large amount of mass gathers together in one location, it bends and distorts the fabric of the surrounding space-time, just as the theory of general relativity dictates. As light from background objects even farther away passes close to or through that region of the universe, it not only gets distorted but also gets magnified and potentially bent, either into multiple images or into a complete or partial ring. The foreground mass behaves as a gravitational lens. The amount of mass and how it’s distributed affect the light passing through it, amplifying the light coming from those background sources.
Separated is the newest documentary film from Errol Morris. Based on Jacob Soboroff’s 2020 book Separated: Inside an American Tragedy, the film probes the inhumane family separation and immigration policies of the Trump administration. From a review in The Guardian:
The Trump administration’s southern border policy began with the dream of a wall in the desert and ended with the nightmare of family separation: children torn from their parents and loaded en masse into wire-mesh cages. It was inhumane treatment, which was precisely the point. The White House’s intention was to use terror as a deterrent and effectively write every parent’s worst fear into law. “When you have that policy, people don’t come,” Donald Trump said blithely. “I know it sounds harsh, but we have to save our country.”
Errol Morris’s forensic, procedural documentary walks us through the bureaucratic backrooms to show how the policy was hatched and implemented. It explains how its principal authors — Trump adviser Stephen Miller and attorney general Jeff Sessions — junked the pre-existing catch-and-release scheme (which had allowed migrants to remain in the country until their immigration hearing) in favour of a bold new tactic of forced separation and mass imprisonment. If Separated lacks the rueful exuberance that typifies much of Morris’s early work (The Thin Blue Line, The Fog of War, even last year’s John le Carré film), that is entirely understandable. The material is sobering and the mountain of evidence needs unpicking. The film-maker handles his brief with the cold, hard precision of an expert state prosecutor.
“Harm to children was part of the point,” says Jonathan White, a committed public servant who saw his department, the Office of Refugee Resettlement, hijacked by a blatantly inhumane strategy that the Trump administration implemented for its deterrent potential. “They believed it would terrify families into not coming.” White isn’t exactly a whistleblower, although he comes across as no less courageous in describing a dictated-from-the-top family separation scheme for which he had a front-row seat.
And here’s an interview with Morris & Soboroff about the film:
For his second term, Trump and his team are planning a blockbuster sequel to these inhumane crimes entirely in the open: deporting up to 20 million people (undocumented immigrants, documented immigrants, and political opponents) with a minimum of due process, which will require a massive increase in the scale of the police state and concentration camps. That’s 6% of the US population. We don’t know if they will succeed but they will try. Those are the stakes.
I got a lot out of this interview with The Message author Ta-Nehisi Coates by Jon Stewart for The Daily Show.
Best-selling author Ta-Nehisi Coates sits down with Jon Stewart to talk about his latest book, “The Message,” and reconciling past and present vestiges of oppression. They discuss his visits to Senegal, South Carolina, and The West Bank, how past atrocities like slavery and the holocaust can create a zero-sum game of control, the need for safety and statehood despite morally problematic systems, his exposure to Palestinian stories that have been hidden in American media, understanding the physical traumas of the Black community, and the purpose in writing to shape the world around us.
On the way to the dental clinic they talk about going home for Christmas. It’s November and Marianne is having a wisdom tooth removed. Connell is driving her to the clinic because he’s her only friend with a car, and also the only person in whom she confides about distasteful medical conditions like impacted teeth. He sometimes drives her to the doctor’s office when she needs antibiotics for urinary tract infections, which is often. They are twenty-three.
Jack was home safe. He had survived his kidnapping. But the actual kidnapping is not what this story is about, if you can believe it. It’s about surviving what you survived, which is also known as the rest of your life.
It’s also about, spoiler alert, trauma.
Tolstoy tells us that all happy families are alike and that each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. A few years ago, I wrote a different novel, my first novel, about divorce, which was inspired in part by the divorce stories of several people I know, and I came to the conclusion that, actually, all divorces are exactly alike. I tell you this because I’ve now come to understand the same thing about trauma: Happy, well-adjusted people are all different. The traumatized are exactly alike. I’m about to tell you a story that is nothing like a violent kidnapping — almost laughably so — but what I’ve learned over the years is that trauma is trauma. Something terrible happens, beyond what is in our own personal capacity to cope with, and the details don’t matter as much as the state we’re thrown into. Our bodies and brains have not evolved to reliably differentiate a rape at knife point from a job loss that threatens us with financial ruin or from the dismantling of our world by our parents’ divorce. It’s wrong, but explain that to your poor, battered autonomic nervous system.
In 1950, master photographer Irving Penn set up a simple studio in Paris and started to photograph people of all kinds of professions, each wearing their work clothes and carrying the tools of their trade.
Working in the tradition of representing the petits métiers, Penn photographed fishmongers, firefighters, butchers, bakers, divers, baseball umpires, chefs, bike messengers, and sellers of goods of all kinds.
Penn continued photographing workers in New York and London, collecting the photos into a project called Small Trades.
Like everyone else who has recorded the look of tradesmen and workers, the author of this book was motivated by the fact that individuality and occupational pride seem on the wane. To a degree everyone has proved right, and since these photographs were made, London chimney sweeps have all but disappeared and in New York horseshoers — hard to find in 1950 — now scarcely exist.
I love My Brilliant Friend — it’s one of my all-time favorites and might be the best show you’re not watching. I agree completely with Clare Thorp’s description of it as “criminally underrated”.
As the trailer above shows, the previous two lead actors (who were excellent) have been replaced by older ones, a change I’m a little apprehensive about, but everything else about the show has been pitch perfect so I’m gonna trust the process. From an NPR piece on the new season:
“This child is you, when you were a child,” Maiorino recalled her friend Alessia saying about the novel’s titular protagonist and sometimes antagonist Lila. Like Lila and her friend Lenù, Maiorino is from Naples and stayed in the south, while her friend left to study in the north of the country, get married and have children.
Art has now truly imitated life for Maiorino, who plays Lila in the fourth season of the series.
New episodes of My Brilliant Friend started airing on HBO last night and will drop every Monday for the next 10 weeks. Go check it out!
This month, Powers will publish his fourteenth novel, “Playground,” a book that initially seems like a way for him to add “ocean guy” to his C.V. It essentially comprises three story lines. The first is about Todd Keane, an all-conquering tech giant. The onset of dementia has compelled him to revisit his happiest memories, which involve Rafi Young, a close friend of his teens and twenties from whom he is now estranged. A second story line concerns a close-knit, dwindling community on Makatea, an island in French Polynesia, that must decide how to respond to an offer from wealthy American investors who want to launch a libertarian seasteading enclave nearby. The third follows Evelyne Beaulieu, a famous oceanographer, as she reflects on her life’s work and all the destruction she has witnessed: the collapse of fisheries and the disappearance of various species; the acidification of the seas; the dredging, in a single afternoon, of entire “coral cities that had taken ten thousand years to grow.” There’s also a Silicon Valley-inspired twist, involving Todd’s investments in social networking and artificial intelligence, that brings these narrative threads together.
Powers was a participant in the personal-computing revolution of the seventies and the rise of the Internet in the nineties, and he is deeply attuned to the potential cataclysms that technological innovation could invite. “I had this sense that we were living through this ethical moment again,” he said, of the inspiration for the new book.
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