Or decontextualized?
I watched Battleship Potempkin for the first time. The scene on the Odessa steps was pretty powerful - nothing says czarist repression like jackboots, bayonets, and live ammo crowd control, but otherwise it was not even remotely so awesome as its reputation led me to believe. Subtlety was certainly not a option on Eisenstein's palette, but The Ebert tells us that was a deliberate element of his method. Maybe you had to be there, or maybe it needs to be the first movie you ever saw, or maybe it would rouse you to action if you were actually a member of the proletariat? I'm probably just некультурный.
I know, I know; I should have gone with the Bultmann...
But Homo Religiosus has all the fun...
Me, I find indulging my agnosticism - by way of a deep interest in the history and philosophy of religion - more interesting that being an angry anti-theist. In that pursuit I am indebted to historians, philosophers, psychologists, and theologians of the 20th century. Useful guides in this territory have included Tillich, Otto, James, Jung, Campbell, and several times now, Eliade.
The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion is the most accessible of the several books by Mircea Eliade that I've read. History of Religious Ideas, Volume 1: From the Stone Age to the Eleusinian Mysteries, was pretty dense. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy was a bit of a slog. Were you to read only one book by Eliade The Sacred and the Profane is the one I'd recommend, at least until I've read more of him.
Unlike the Angries who think religion should be simply and finally dispensed with by modern societies, Eliade (and the others) explain that some sort of religion is all but inevitable. The religious impulse is hard-wired into how we perceive the world and interact with each other. We've likely had religion for as long as we've had speech, music, and art; it may even spring from same nexus of traits that made us finally fully human. What humanity has done with - and proposes to do with - this drive is as significant today as it was 2,000 or 20,000 years ago. Religion is not going away, if anything the most dangerous sorts of it are resurgent. Understanding religion and sort of certainty that leads to life-changing (or life-ending) dogma, doctrine, and action is more important than ever.
If the study of religion is your thing you've probably already read The Sacred and the Profane, but if you haven't, you should.
Deep thoughts, passionate characters, and a thrilling story, skillfully wrought…
While Embassytown can be read as a subversively creative science fiction story, it works on a variety of levels, addressing addiction, allegory, American adventurism in the 21st century, apocalypse, armed rebellion in colonial states, civil war, the excesses of revolutionary movements, human perception, ineffable experience, mans' inhumanity, Marxism, metaphor, philosophy, post-WWII liberation movements, the role of language in cognition, simile, social justice, Taliban brutality, transhumanism, Western imperialism in China in the 19th century, and what it means to be truly alien.
Mieville evokes familiar and not so familiar images and concepts from literature, art, and politics as varied as Alien, cyberpunk, Dune, H.R. Giger, Homage to Catalonia, Lord of the Rings, Machiavelli, Marx, and Starship Troopers.
This is the sort of novel one reads and then seeks out the company of friends, compatriots, and literate strangers with whom to tease out and argue over all the book's many ideas while drinking through long beer lists and eating too many peanuts. My appointment for just such an ethanol and sodium-fueled recapitulation is this Friday.
If you love science fiction or fine writing read Embassytown. It's both.
Foreign and domestic...
When America fails to abide by its laws, respect its Constitution, and live up to its ideals and aspirations it usually does so in a big way. Our internment of Japanese-Americans during the Second World War was one of those failures. In my youth I knew the Matsuura family. Mr. and Mrs. met in the camps and both enlisted to serve the war effort. After the war they took up a new life together, their former existence forever interrupted by this ugly spasm of institutionalized xenophobia, racism, and bigotry. They seemed sad about the internment but not bitter. In their lived response to this injustice they were better Americans than those who imprisoned them, and those who stood by and watched...
Tip of the hat to Christopher Bellavita at Homeland Security Watch for posting an article that reminded me of childhood friends and stories of bravery and resolve.
It's like reading a novel written on a pad of Post-It notes.
I signed up for a GoodReads giveaway for Freedom Club. I didn't win the drawing, but was pleased and surprised to receive an email from the author Saul Garnell, who offered me an e-book download with his compliments.
Freedom Club takes its name from the writings of the PhD, madman, and domestic terrorist Theodore Kaczynski, who killed three people and maimed dozens more during his malignant reign of terror as the Unabomber. Garnell does an interesting job of folding Kaczynski's madness into the plot. In fact he makes frequent digressions into the history of a variety of deep (and - in the case of Kaczynski - evil) thinkers.
Cleverly plotted, Freedom Club features a variety of engaging characters and a story that is a plausible extrapolation of current social and technological trends. Along the way we are treated to some moral ambiguity and and several very effective action scenes. Garnell's writing reminds more than a little of early Neal Stephenson.
I did Saul's novel a serious disservice by reading it on my iPhone where this science fiction novel's 416 densely written pages were magically expanded to 1985 virtual snippets, each only a paragraph or two in length. The format leaves much to be desired.
My next Garnell e-book is Eat Fish and Die, for which I must find a method to read in a full-size or at least paperback-sized format.
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