Day: January 2, 2005

I read Folksonomies – Cooperative Classification and Communication Through Shared Metadata after seeing a link from Peter Merholz, and then I read Clay Shirky’s Notes from ITP: Flickr-as-web-services edition. Nothing here is formally peer-reviewed, in the academic sense, but all of it gets reviewed publicly all the same. By the way, I’d choose between “tagonomy” or “social tagging” to describe the categorization process embodied in Flickr.

I was also interested to see Mappr, since it’s a manifestation of an idea I was talking to a colleague about before the holidays. Maps are metaphors everyone understands for navigation. Whether it’s the right metaphor or not depends, but it passes the instant “I get it” test.

While in New York City last week, rambling around on my own for an afternoon, I went over to the New York Public Library. I feel confident I’ve been there before, but it felt like the first time all the same. I had no specific ideas in mind beyond checking out the reading room and seeing what else might be on display. I was in luck. A featured exhibit is The Newtonian Moment: Science and the Making of Modern Culture, where original versions of Newton’s famous works and many supporting materials are displayed and put in context. After reading The Baroque Cycle, I’m much more interested in the history of the scientific explosion of the 17th century. Like the Mozart-Salieri rivalry popularized by the movie Amadeus, the Newton-Liebniz rivalry over “the calculus” is fascinating. Perhaps Stephenson made it more interesting than it was, but human jealousies are more palpable than actual mathematics since my high-school calculus is long-forgotten.

I had two quibbles with the exhibit. First, it was dark. I’m all for dramatic lighting, but this was dim. Perhaps the curators wanted to avoid damaging the rare books with harsh lighting, but I’d wish for a middle ground. Second, for my taste, the diversions on the French popularization of his work/ideas and the rise of women’s interest in science, were a bit much. Newton’s life and work are compelling on their own, so I would have preferred a tighter focus.

The live exhibit will be at the NYPL through February 5, so if you find a free moment near Grand Central Station (two blocks away), wander over. The website is quite strong, too.

I also glanced through the hallway exhibit of the art of James Gillray, a popular caricaturist from England’s “golden age of caricature.” Gillray lived from 1756-1815, so he certainly enjoyed interesting times. The visual blogs of their day, these caricatures are not subtle… our age’s political cartoons, even the pointed ones, are usually more polite. Once again, the website for the exhibit is solid, with several examples of the artwork. Take a look. The Plumb-pudding in danger; – or – State Epicures taking un Petit Souper. from February 26, 1805. This one is a graphic reminder that at the time Britain owned the waves and France owned Europe. This exhibit runs through January 29, 2005.

I really need to start living in the present, don’t I? Anyway, a worthwhile couple of hours in New York City, at no monetary cost, in pleasant surroundings.

I’ve docked my O’Brian ship, as noted. Yet, I’m still reading about the Napoleonic wars from the British side, but this time on land. Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe books are probably almost as well known as the Aubrey-Maturin books, so I thought I’d give them a try. My first entry is Sharpe’s Tiger. I had a hard time figuring out which was the first book to start with, since there are a score or so, and Cornwell isn’t done. But, after puzzling over it for a bit, I picked up Tiger, as it’s set in 1799, the earliest of the series, though it was written recently.

I can see why these books have earned an audience. The Tiger story is focused: a British army in India is laying seige to a Muslim ruler, the Tippoo, in Mysore. Sharpe, a private, avoids being flogged to death on a trumped-up charge from his sergeant by agreeing to be part of a dangerous mission. He enters the city masquerading as a deserter in an attempt to extract intelligence about the city from a captured spy. As you might guess, he carries it all off better than anyone expected, and Sharpe is promoted to Sergeant at the end of the successful siege. It seems there is little Sharpe can’t do — while imprisoned in a dungeon, he begins to learn to read (his background, from what we’re told, is that of a house burglar). By the end of the book, you find yourself understanding the comparison to James Bond in the Philadelphia Inquirer blurb on the back cover of the paperback I bought. I like Bond, and I like historical fiction, and I am unrepentently happy to read about the world of 200 years ago, all while enjoying modern conveniences. I have Sharpe’s Triumph waiting. That’s also set in India, four years later. I’ll be curious to see how Cornwell handled the success of his novels. O’Brian ran out of historical time for his characters, and had to get a bit inventive. The first one Cornwell wrote, Sharpe’s Eagle, was set in 1809, so I now understand why later books dove into the prior career of our hero.

Last night, we watched Sharpe’s Rifles, a BBC television version of one of the books, set in northern Spain in 1809. It felt much like the A&E Hornblower movies, and it was fine… except for the terrible music! One oddity: in Tiger, Sharpe meets a young Arthur Wellesley. Though he would later be the Duke of Wellington, Wellesley here is a Colonel. All well and good… the real soldier did serve in India. What’s odd is that in the television version of Rifles, Sharpe distinguishes himself right at the beginning by saving Wellesley from French scouts, and Wellesley doesn’t recognize him. Details, details. Only other point of note is that Rifles was, per Cornwell, written with TV in mind: “The book was written at the request of the producers of the TV series who wanted a Spanish hero to share the honours with Sharpe.” Hmmm. Anyway, I’ll read the rest before I rent any more of the television versions from Netflix.