A book update! Yay!
At this point it seems, um, unlikely that I will finish 50 books by the end of the year. Still possible, of course, but a successful scenario would have me either quitting my job or starting to count kids' books.
Still, I feel I have somewhat of an obligation to share my progress over the past three months. In short: not good. I've run a low-quantity, high-quality operation.
Book #6 was Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent. Bryson is a travel writer of sorts and is quite humorous. This book is about driving through small town America after he had lived overseas for a while. I managed not to be offended by his repeated libelous remarks about the fine city of Des Moines (where he was born) and enjoyed the quick read, especially since me and A-Dawgg were in the midst of a lengthy road trip ourselves.
Next (book 7) I finished The Brethren by Scott Armstrong and the man some call Booby. This was an interesting one to read during these times we live in, what with the Roberts nomination and now Alito and Woodward being completely coopted by the Washington establishment and people he's supposed to be, you know, journalising. This book was a bit weird because the clerks played huge roles in all the decisionmaking and politicking around the Court, but the authors almost never gave any of their names. It was nice to get a "behind the scenes" look, though Closed Chambers was probably more enjoyable. I'd say this one fits in somewhere between All the President's Men and the hacktacular Bush at War.
Eight (8). City: Urbanism and Its End by Douglas W. Rae. I would not describe this book as a quick read. It's more of a textbook, but I loved it. As the subtitle subtly hints, it covers the rise and fall of urbanism. The case study was New Haven, so there were lots of interesting facts about that sweet little city's history. Rae includes all sorts of very detailed data and studies that show how New Haven grew to be where it is today and how it's changed and such. This is truly a phenomenal book. If you have an interest in Land Use or City Planning or Urban Growth or New Haven, I highly recommend it. If you don't have one of those interests, you may nod off a bit.
After that I read Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner (#9). Perhaps the economists among us could comment more thoughtfully, but I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I had run across some of the Levitt's weird, at times controversial research findings before, but it was good to fly through a whole bunch of them at once. Tip: This book is also useful for choosing baby names and selling houses. For more, read the blog.
Big Book Number Ten (10): Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich. Now, I consider myself a discriminating film watcher. Not of the really good old movies or the artsy-fartsy French ones from the 60s, but when it comes to evaluating the ones that have come out in the past decade-plus, I hold myself in high esteem. Some people have a weakness for action movies or romantic comedies. Not I. However, I do have two blind spots where appreciation of quality comes in second place to pure enjoyment: 1) comedies of the Dumb & Dumber variety and 2) con (not convict) movies. Apparently, I also like con books. Really, the story in this book isn't a true con, but it has many of the same elements and rockin' hijinks. It was a fun, fast read and I can't wait until they turn it into a movie. Rah rah.
What number am I on now (why haven't you stopped reading yet)? Eleven (11). This is a good one to ignore. Good in Bed. Yes, author Weiner also wrote In Her Shoes, which is now a movie. That I just saw last week. I'm just gonna say that neither of them were as bad as they look. And...well, let's leave it at that.
I finally finished A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (12), which I had been reading for months. It's one of those books you have to be in the mood to read. Sure, it won a Pulitzer and it has one of the hugest, most absurd characters ever and some delightfully inspired dialogue, but I had a hard time getting really engaged with the characters for some reason. I'll sum it up like this: it's an excellent but frustrating novel. And it was set in New Orleans, yo.
Yesterday I wrapped up Stephen G. Bloom's Postville (13), which I liked (I tend to pre-screen my books pretty well...usually...disregard #11). Bloom is a big-city journalist who moved to Iowa City and learned about this Orthodox Jewish community who bought a kosher meatpacking plant in Postville, Iowa. As the subtitle states, it was quite a culture clash! As you can imagine! Heh! Anyway, Bloom injects himself in the "reporting" a lot, which some readers might not like. I, however, did enjoy the parts with him dealing with reconciling his urban sensibilities and new rural life. Good times. Interesting story. Whee.
11.20.2005
11.08.2005
Baseball is a slow burn
[Continued from comments on previous post] As for the baseball/basketball argument, I agree that basketball is more fluid and athletic (although you don’t think playing 150 games at catcher requires some serious endurance?). Whether that corresponds to basketball being a better sport is another question. Certainly it is silly just to name two sports which emphasize different skills sets and appeal to different types of viewers, and try to decide which is "better." This is clearly a matter of preference.
However, I think the appeal of both sports can be communicated. Not to take anything away from the frenetic pace and short-attention span appeal of basketball, which can of course be glorious, baseball is a sport that requires patience and diligence to reap its many benefits.
I like two things primarily about baseball (not including the incredible nostalgia involved in things like the voice of Vin Scully). The first thing I learned to love about baseball was the numbers. When you follow entire games on a scorecard, you quickly grasp how everything can be quantified. Yes, there are numbers in every sport, but in baseball every position on the field has a number, every play can be reduced to numbers, and every interaction between ball and bat has a statistic. Every year that goes by some nerd comes up with a new number that is supposed to be the end-all for judging performance. I like the accumulation of statistics over the entire season (and equally, over entire careers)- home run races, batting averages, strikeouts – much more than I like the individual games (at least until the playoffs).
And there is no doubt that individual, regular season baseball games are less important than basketball games. This is inevitable when the teams play twice as many games over a half-year. Each game is much less important than the slow accumulation of wins over a season. But this is another reason that baseball is glorious. In baseball failure is emphasized (and normalized) over individual achievement. The human element in victory is diminished. A good hitter gets retired 7 out of 10 times; a three-run lead is generally very difficult to overcome; you can only use your best pitcher 1 out of every 5 games; weather can cancel your game at most ballparks; a batter hits the same pitch with the same force two times and it’s a home run in one stadium and a fly-out in another; a great team can win 85% of basketball games – no more than 65% for a great baseball team.
The reason this appeals to me is twofold – to a pessimist, baseball looks a lot more like life; and when individual achievement does occur, it is spectacular and unusual (how many planets had to align for Albert Pujols to hit his game winning three-run homer in the NLCS this year? – how much more often does Kobe have an opportunity to win a game with a jumper?)
Also, although money always has the potential to ruin baseball (see: NY Yankees), this season proved that the highest payroll can’t guarantee victory every year. And a baseball game is still affordable for a family of five.
But again, these are all matters of preference. The things I like about baseball are subtle. A baseball game is like a Hitchcock movie, and a basketball game is like a Wes Craven flick. Of course Wes will make you scream louder at first, but sometimes the Hitchcock will keep you up at night.
However, I think the appeal of both sports can be communicated. Not to take anything away from the frenetic pace and short-attention span appeal of basketball, which can of course be glorious, baseball is a sport that requires patience and diligence to reap its many benefits.
I like two things primarily about baseball (not including the incredible nostalgia involved in things like the voice of Vin Scully). The first thing I learned to love about baseball was the numbers. When you follow entire games on a scorecard, you quickly grasp how everything can be quantified. Yes, there are numbers in every sport, but in baseball every position on the field has a number, every play can be reduced to numbers, and every interaction between ball and bat has a statistic. Every year that goes by some nerd comes up with a new number that is supposed to be the end-all for judging performance. I like the accumulation of statistics over the entire season (and equally, over entire careers)- home run races, batting averages, strikeouts – much more than I like the individual games (at least until the playoffs).
And there is no doubt that individual, regular season baseball games are less important than basketball games. This is inevitable when the teams play twice as many games over a half-year. Each game is much less important than the slow accumulation of wins over a season. But this is another reason that baseball is glorious. In baseball failure is emphasized (and normalized) over individual achievement. The human element in victory is diminished. A good hitter gets retired 7 out of 10 times; a three-run lead is generally very difficult to overcome; you can only use your best pitcher 1 out of every 5 games; weather can cancel your game at most ballparks; a batter hits the same pitch with the same force two times and it’s a home run in one stadium and a fly-out in another; a great team can win 85% of basketball games – no more than 65% for a great baseball team.
The reason this appeals to me is twofold – to a pessimist, baseball looks a lot more like life; and when individual achievement does occur, it is spectacular and unusual (how many planets had to align for Albert Pujols to hit his game winning three-run homer in the NLCS this year? – how much more often does Kobe have an opportunity to win a game with a jumper?)
Also, although money always has the potential to ruin baseball (see: NY Yankees), this season proved that the highest payroll can’t guarantee victory every year. And a baseball game is still affordable for a family of five.
But again, these are all matters of preference. The things I like about baseball are subtle. A baseball game is like a Hitchcock movie, and a basketball game is like a Wes Craven flick. Of course Wes will make you scream louder at first, but sometimes the Hitchcock will keep you up at night.
11.07.2005
11.05.2005
Let's get this party re-re-started...
Right?
Sure this post is discouragingly short, but it's what I like to call "a start." Comment away (especially you spammers).
Paul Krugman (usually sequestered behind the expensive TimesSelect wall) has a great column here. Note especially Howard Dean's role in the parable. Who wouldn't want a President Dean now?
Sure this post is discouragingly short, but it's what I like to call "a start." Comment away (especially you spammers).
Paul Krugman (usually sequestered behind the expensive TimesSelect wall) has a great column here. Note especially Howard Dean's role in the parable. Who wouldn't want a President Dean now?
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