Storing Up Treasures Under the Earth

The University of Chicago has opened its new library, the Joe and Rika Mansueto Library (named for Morningstar CEO Joe Mansueto and his wife Rika, both UChicago graduates, who donated $25 million to the library expansion project). The Chicago Tribune says that "students seem to love" the new library's glass dome design "because it lets natural light pour inside, liberating them from the university’s dimly-lit reading rooms." The library probably looks best when it's sunny; it seems rather cold and sterile in the pics that Jerry Coyne took on a rainy day:

(Photos by Jerry Coyne of "Why Evolution Is True")

Anyway, the real marvel of the library is not its architecture but its system for storing and retrieving books. The university wanted to keep its media on-site but didn't like the idea of a huge new building that would have crowded existing structures, so books and periodicals are stored in a temperature-controlled underground vault that can hold as many as 3.5 million volumes. Inside the vault are thousands of bins that each hold roughly 100 books sorted by size rather than subject or author, in order to make the most efficient use of the space. When a library patron requests a book at the circulation desk, an automated retrieval system locates the bin containing the desired book, and delivers the whole bin to a human librarian† who retrieves the book and notifies the patron that it's ready to be picked up. The whole process is supposed to take less than 5 minutes.

The university produced a video demonstrating how the system works:

The Chicago Tribune's claims notwithstanding, this library wouldn't be my first choice for a satisfying reading experience, for the same reason that Amazon.com isn't my first choice for finding a good book when I don't have a specific work in mind. Sure, Amazon has good prices and a huge selection of books, but the "Look Inside!" feature (which is available for many, but not all, books) isn't nearly as interesting as scanning a physical shelf of books, comparing volume sizes and dust jacket designs, and flipping through pages to see if a sentence or paragraph jumps out at me.

Still, this new library is intended primarily for research, not casual reading, and I accept that the experience of reading has changed drastically over the centuries. Books have evolved from characters scratched on stone, to wax and clay tablets, to scrolls of papyrus and paper, to bound books, and now to ebooks. As much as I love the feel and smell of old books and the penciled notations of previous owners (or myself, in books I bought back in the days when I still underlined and annotated), a book's most precious quality is its ability to inform and transport us to places that we couldn't otherwise experience. So long as there are comfy chairs and mugs of tea at hand when I'm ready to be transported, I can deal with whatever container the ideas come in.

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† When a job title such as "librarian" is prefaced with the word "human," I invariably think of Harlan Ellison's short story, "The Human Operators," which was also made into an episode of "The New Outer Limits." (The video is rated "TV-MA" and may not be appropriate for younger audiences.)

Choosing His Words Carelessly

Sir V. S. Naipaul, winner of the Nobel prize for literature and the Booker Prize (among other prestigious writing awards), says that women's writing styles are quite different from men's, and that he can "read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two...know whether it is by a woman or not." That could be a useful skill, especially for writing instructors and editors who care whether a composition was actually written by the person who claims to be its author. Unfortunately Naipaul went on to say that he considers all women writers to be "unequal" to him because of their "sentimentality, the narrow view of the world." "[A] woman...is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in her writing too," he said.

Well of course a woman is not a "master" of a house. A woman would be the owner of her house, or the head of her house, or perhaps the "mistress" of her house if she's the type who refers to the room nearest the front door as "the parlor." For a writer, Naipaul is terribly careless with his vocabulary. I suppose he's going to claim next that "a woman is not a complete gentleman"!

Naipual doesn't seem to dislike women so long as they conform to roles he's comfortable with. Of his female publisher, he said, "[She] was so good as a taster and editor, when she became a writer, lo and behold, it was all this feminine tosh. I don't mean this in any unkind way."

This is an excellent example of why I generally prefer not to know too much about the private lives of artists whose work I admire. Sometimes background and personal details give you insight into the artist's thought processes and enhance your enjoyment of their work, but sometimes they make you think, "Why would I reward such a ninny by buying his books?" And when I refer to Naipaul as a ninny, I don't mean this in any unkind way.

Sleeping Furiously

Philosopher Anthony Grayling is less well known in the US than he is in Britain (where he seems to be as renowned for his hair as he is his ideas), but he's definitely got my attention. In an interview that appeared in yesterday's Guardian, Grayling discusses his new work, The Good Book: A Humanist Bible,† and responds to charges that some in the atheist movement have adopted a "militant" tone:

Well, firstly, I think the charges of militancy and fundamentalism of course come from our opponents, the theists. My rejoinder is to say when the boot was on their foot they burned us at the stake. All we're doing is speaking very frankly and bluntly and they don't like it...But we're not burning them at the stake. They've got to remember that when it was the other way around it was a much more serious matter. And besides, really, how can you be a militant atheist? How can you be militant non-stamp collector? This is really what it comes down to. You just don't collect stamps. So how can you be a fundamentalist non-stamp collector? It's like sleeping furiously. It's just wrong.

I shall have to add his book to my reading list!

H/T to Jerry Coyne at Why Evolution Is True

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† In the Guardian article, the book's title is given as The Good Book: A Secular Bible, but Amazon.com shows the title as "A Humanist Bible." I assume this means that the British and American versions have slightly different titles, in the same way that the first "Harry Potter" novel is known as Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the U.K. but Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in the U.S.

Staying Power

On Jerry Coyne's recommendation, I rented "Never Let Me Go" and watched it last weekend. Jerry had written of this movie, "You’ll either love it or think it’s meh." My initial reaction tended towards "meh"; I thought the film was well acted and beautifully shot, but it didn't have much emotional impact on me at the time. In the days since I watched it, though, scenes have been replaying themselves in my head, a sure sign that it worked its way into my consciousness even though I wasn't giving it my undivided attention. (That happens a lot when I watch movies at home—too many distractions.) The movie is based on the novel of the same name by Kazuo Ishiguro (who also wrote "Remains of the Day"), and now I want to read the book to more fully explore ideas that were only briefly touched on in the film.

Some words and images hit you immediately: Racial or sexual epithets directed at you, or someone you love. Photos of a coed screaming as she crouches over the body of a fallen student, a man in a white shirt blocking the progress of a line of tanks, a Y-shaped trail of smoke and debris from an exploding space shuttle. Other inputs seem to need a while to sink in: Seemingly offhand remarks that don't trouble you until late at night in the quiet darkness, when your mind is mulling over the day's events. Images that were viewed only briefly but intrude on your thoughts hours or days later, demanding your attention. You can't escape them; you will deal with them, or they'll keep dealing with you.

As I watched "Never Let Me Go" a second time this evening, two lines from the school song that the students sing at the beginning of the movie—"When we are scattered afar and asunder, parted are those who are singing today"—took on an entirely new meaning. Now I understand that this film will be with me for a long, long time.

Loving IT

My iPad 2 is here. I think I'm in love. After using it for a few hours, holding one of my iPod touches feels like holding a toy, like switching from an oversized coffee mug to the thimble-sized plastic cups that little girls use at tea parties for their dolls. Still, the iTouches fit easily into a pocket or purse while the iPad has to ride in the zippered pouch on the outside of my laptop/messenger bag, so I won't be getting rid of the iTouches anytime soon.

I knew I'd be using the iPad to read eBooks, and oh my, they look gorgeous. Yeah, I know, the Kindle's "E Ink" is legible even in sunlight and the device has a great battery life, but since I spend as little time outdoors as possible and am rarely far from a power outlet, the ability to read in bed without a clip-on booklight is far more important to me. What I hadn't anticipated is that the iPad with the Smart Cover "rolled" into a triangular shape fits perfectly on the console of my treadmill. I can read while walking, something I could never do easily with "real" books. Hardbacks won't lay flat unless the spine's been cracked, and paperbacks are just too light to lay flat without being weighted down. Most magazines are so big they cover the controls on the treadmill, and the font size is usually too small for me. The iPad fits nicely between the treadmill's elevation and speed controls, though, and the font size (using the Kindle app) can be adjusted up to the point that I could almost read without glasses. I was so happy that I actually bought a book on Amazon.com yesterday (Any Human Heart by William Boyd; so far I'm enjoying it as much as the dramatization that was on Masterpiece Classic last month) after years of downloading just freebies. And if I don't feel like reading, there's the NetFlix app, and a keyboard big enough that I could actually type while walking (at my usual leisurely pace, anyway), and who knows what else.

My productivity at work was nil yesterday after the package showed up, so it's a good thing that the iPad was a gift/bonus from my boss. I can blame him for being distracted!

Booking It

My iPad 2 has been ordered and is expected to ship in a couple of weeks. It's hard to predict what I'll actually do with it until I've got it in my hot little hands, but my plan is to keep using my iPod touches for productivity-type stuff (checking email, tracking contact info, etc.) and to use the iPad for entertainment: making and watching videos, surfing the web, and especially reading. I love being able to store an entire library on a pocket-sized iPod touch and I find ebooks quite readable even on the small screen (being able to adjust the font size helps!), so I'm hoping the experience will be even more enjoyable on the iPad.

Amazon.com has set a pretty high bar for ebooks with their Kindle e-reader. Once your Kindle is set up, you can browse the online store right from your device and download books in less than a minute. Talk about instant gratification! I use the Kindle iPhone app and have downloaded a lot of free/public domain titles, but I haven't bought any current releases; I hesitate to buy books that I can borrow for free. My local library has offered downloadable audiobooks for some time but only started offering ebooks late last year, and obtaining them is...well, it's free, which is important for a cheapskate like me, but the process is less than straightforward.

For one thing, I can't even set up a standard username/password combination on my library account like I can on nearly every other web site I use; they want my library card number instead. At least I can store that securely online and copy/paste it on the library login screen, but it would be so much easier to pick a combination that I can actually remember. Somewhere in the online library catalog, there's a way to specify that I want to search just for ebooks, but search results include audiobooks (which I don't want), so I usually end up browsing the "recently added" section to see what's new. The only iPhone app that can be used to view library ebooks is free but limited, especially in comparison with the Kindle iPhone app. Since I often start reading a book on my laptop and switch to my iPod touch when I'm reading in bed or away from home, I especially miss the Kindle's "Whispersync" feature that keeps track of my place when I switch from one device to another. Selecting the library ebooks I want to download is a lot harder than it should be, and the app frequently needs several tries if my WiFi signal strength is anything less than "excellent."

At least I'm capable of working through these issues by myself. I feel sorry for librarians who not only have to try to help patrons with a variety of e-reading devices and apps, but are also dealing with a quickly changing landscape as electronic media becomes more popular. HarperCollins, one of the world's leading English-language publishers, has announced a new licensing policy under which new ebooks will only be allowed to circulate 26 times before their licenses expire. Since digital media doesn't suffer from wear and tear as physical books do, publishers are scrambling to ensure a steady income. As we move from printed to electronic media, we're going to have to devise ways to deal with content, not just with the containers it comes in.

Playing the Hand You're Dealt

I wish I could find the quote—or even remember who said it—about the difference between a "writer" and an "author." The gist was that a writer is a craftsman who cares about doing the best possible job, and an author is a pretentious git who cares about royalties. The elusive quote is nagging me because I just finished watching the third and final part of the dramatization of the novel "Any Human Heart" on Masterpiece Theater. I mean "Masterpiece." No, I mean "Masterpiece Classic," which I think is a silly name for a TV show that features dramatizations of works that haven't existed long enough to be "classics" yet, but I suppose that "Masterpiece Period Pieces" would be long and redundant.

Anyway. "Any Human Heart" is about the fictional English writer Logan Mountstuart. I'd have loved the story just for the following conversation between Logan and his friend (and fellow English writer...hmm, maybe the term "author" applies here) Peter Scabius. Peter has just completed a new book titled Guilt, which is about his wife Tess, who committed suicide because of his multiple infidelities.

Logan: (as he reads the title of Peter's new book, Guilt) "Oh, please tell me you're joking."
Peter: "It couldn't be further from a joke. It's part of my penance. The penance I owe to Tess."
Logan: "Penance? 'Guilt'? Anyone would think you were..."
Peter: "I'm converting. I'm becoming a Roman Catholic."
Logan: "Oh, no. What, like Graham Greene and Evelyn Waugh?"
Peter: "No, like Peter Scabius."
Logan: "Why is it that all English writers are converting to bloody Catholicism? Why not just be a very devout Anglican?"
Peter: "Because I need a savage, unforgiving, brutal god. Since Tess's death...don't you see? I don't want some bourgeois Anglican god I can have a nice cup of tea with. I want to be frightened of my deity. In awe."
Logan: "You do know it's all complete mumbo-jumbo, don't you? Life's about luck. Good luck and bad luck. The good luck you have, and the bad luck you have, that's all."
Peter: "What utter nonsense. You can't live with a philosophy like that."
Logan: "Forget it."

Logan does live with a philosophy like that. He has bad luck aplenty—lovers, friends, and family members leave his life, sometimes tragically, and World War II leaves its scars on him—but he appreciates the good luck when it comes. And he writes, in spurts. Not so much professionally, although his early works had some success and his journalism skills were well respected; mostly he writes in his journals. He takes breaks, sometimes for years, but he always starts up again eventually. And when he has his "final bit of bad luck" and his "individual journey" ends, he is buried under a (crucifix-free) tombstone that labels him as an "Escritor -  Writer - Ecrivain," in reference to his Uruguayan mother, his English father and upbringing, and his final years and death in the south of France.

What defines a writer is the undeniable impulse that results in the act of writing. Whether one's words are paid for or not, published or not, ever seen by anyone else or not, is irrelevant. A writer writes.

N.B. I haven't read the novel Any Human Heart (although I now plan to); I've only seen the dramatization, which may well differ from the book.

Kicking Back with the Kidlets

My sister graciously allowed me to hang out with my (elementary-school-age) niece and nephew this afternoon and evening. It's a good deal all around: I get to spend time with a couple of cool kids, they get a break from their usual routine, and my sister and her husband get a little time to themselves.

Since the weather is once again cold and dreary, and I'm cheap, I told the kids we could do whatever they wanted so long as it was age-appropriate, indoors, and free. So we headed to the library, where I was (as usual) impressed by the staff. As we entered, my nephew mentioned that he wanted to ask one of the librarians a question, and the lady sitting nearest the door piped up, "Ooh, ooh, ask me, ask me!" It's always nice to encounter someone who clearly loves their job, and even better when they're in a position to serve as a positive role model for kids.

After filling our minds at the library, we headed to our favorite burger-and-ice-cream joint to fill our tummies. (I can't work up much enthusiasm for ice cream when it's cold outside, but that never seems to deter the kids.) When our food arrived, my niece (who's well aware that I don't believe in god, and who has challenged me many times previously on that point) initially insisted that I had to "say grace" before we could eat. I replied that I don't pray, but she could if she wanted—my usual response in that situation. (I won't pretend to join in others' religious rituals, but it's not my place to interfere with someone who just wants to say some "special" words over their dinner.) After considering my answer briefly, she declared, "We don't have to say grace if you don't want to," and tucked into her food. She may be pious, but she's also practical.

The kids didn't need to be home until 8:00 (meaning "my sister and her husband wanted a little time to watch one whole TV show with no interruptions"), so we hung out at my house for a while after dinner. I let them play around on an ancient (Windows 95) laptop that I won't miss at all if it happens to get broken. My nephew asked how the different keys on the keyboard work (so I demonstrated Page Up/Down, Home, End, etc. to him), and what some of the symbol keys like the asterisk (*) are for. I explained that the asterisk is sometimes used as a multiplication symbol (e.g., 4*5=20), but then I got into the concept of footnotes,* and that spawned a whole new discussion into sentence structure and composition. (How teachers manage whole roomfuls of such inquisitive young minds, I'll never know.) I felt a little more confident when my niece asked how she could save a copy of the drawing that she'd lovingly crafted in Windows Paint, and I chanted "Click File, click Save, type a name, click Save, click File, click Exit" without even having to think about it.

Ah, the joys of nieces and nephews. For someone like me who never bothered to have kids of my own, they provide all the privileges of grandparenthood: I get to spoil 'em rotten, impress them with my knowledge of Harry Potter, and pass along my "wisdom" to them. And once I've filled them with junk food, I take them home to their parents. It's a great system.

* Like this one.

Challenging the Champions

In his 1987 novel Bluebeard (a "hoax autobiography" of "the erstwhile American painter Rabo Karabekian"), Kurt Vonnegut wrote:

...simply moderate giftedness has been made worthless by the printing press and radio and television and satellites and all that. A moderately gifted person who would have been a community treasure a thousand years ago has to give up, has to go into some other line of work, since modern communications put him or her into daily competition with nothing but world champions.

Perhaps that was true in 1987, but in 2011 the "world champions"—those who actually get paid for their creations—must be straining to be heard over the noise of the rabble. That'd be those of us who are only moderately (or less) gifted, and who still have to "go into some other line of work" to pay the rent, but can at least share what gifts we (think we) have via the Internet by blogging or tweeting or posting our photographs or artwork or homemade videos or whatever. I suppose we're still in "daily competition" for the attention of others,† but what we lack in quality, we more than make up for in quantity.

† I don't know whether I count myself as a "competitor" or not. I blog mainly as a way of expressing myself to myself, in much the same way that I used to keep a journal. So far as I know, nobody reads this blog except me!