Author: John Roberts

Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom was Cory Doctorow’s first novel. More famous (to me) for being given away for free in many digital formats, Down and Out appeared to me in physical form, as a paperback I picked up off a neighborhood book table this fall.

Imaginative story, more of a novella than a novel, this story — like most science fiction — depends on its readers being willing to extrapolate in a few different ways from where we are today. In a down economy, we can only dream of a world where Whuffie (akin to egoboo) is the scorecard instead of money and material needs. Doctorow’s world is that dream, but he demonstrates it’s not all pleasant musing. A reasonable read, if not a classic.

(This is part of my end-of-the-year rush to capture my major media consumption before the year actually comes to a close.)

I should be ashamed to admit that I read Ted Bell’s Pirate. And I am, mildly. Still, I bounce around in my reading, and candy has its place among the food groups, too (or something like that). If I’m going to record the books I’ve read, I want to capture all of it. I certainly don’t want to make the mistake of reading this one again. A weak James Bond wannabe tale, Pirate doesn’t have much beyond the clichés. Oh well. I won’t pick up any of Bell’s other single-word titles.

(This is part of my end-of-the-year rush to capture my major media consumption before the year actually comes to a close.)

I read the excerpt of Grant Wahl’s article in Sports Illustrated first. After that appetizer, I was grateful to my brother for providing the full book of The Beckham Experiment.

Not much to add here, so many months after the fact, except that I’m amazed the Galaxy played so well this season, with Beckham and Donovan finding a way to play the game and put the previous year — with all its now-public dirty laundry — behind them. True professionals, after all.

(This is part of my end-of-the-year rush to capture my major media consumption before the year actually comes to a close.)

This business book was a freebie, and I got little more than what I paid for it. Waiting for Your Cat to Bark? Persuading Customers When They Ignore Marketing just isn’t new stuff after a decade-plus of different people (notably Seth Godin) telling us how marketing is changing.

I suppose the lessons and anecdotes presented are not obvious to all readers.

But I’ve been playing close attention and living in this world for too long to learn much from this book by Bryan and Jeffrey Eisenberg. That disappointed me, because I am interested, personally and professionally. Also, I wasn’t impressed that cattobark.com, the book’s website, responds with a Windows server error right now. That doesn’t quite match the internet expert persona put forth in their 2006 book.

(This is part of my end-of-the-year rush to capture my major media consumption before the year actually comes to a close.)

Sitting on the shelf at a quiet moment this summer, Assembling California by John McPhee beckoned once again. (My first read was before I started clock.) McPhee’s quiet, steady gaze at a topic feeds a similar curiosity in the reader, even about topics previously unconsidered. This story is how California arrived at its current physical state, through plate tectonics and other geologic theories writ large.

McPhee’s “drive” through the geology of Route 80 is one I’ve made many times, in both directions. Having his eyes on the side of the road, where mine rarely stray, teases out the cause and effect in a process moving too slowly to witness. Because McPhee knows that people may be more engaging than rocks (!), we learn much about Eldridge Moores, the geologist who guides the author and readers through the evidence and the evolving story of what the rocks tell us about the state’s formation. The impact of the earthquake isn’t forgotten, but it’s just the surface expression of the larger forces, however important the “surface” is to those of us living in harm’s way.

On the physical book

The front of the hardcover, beneath the dust-jacket, carries an indelible outline image. This filled lined drawing demonstrates the coastal range, the pool-table flatness of the Central Valley, and the jutting slab of the Sierra Nevada — all in almost iconic form. But it’s not the dust-jacket image so easily found on McPhee’s website or in every other presentation of the book, so it’s not as well-known as it should be. If I had a scanner here, I’d add it.

The frontispiece, I notice this morning, crops from Raven Maps: Landform and Drainage of the 48 States. I own their large map of California, but not this starker, broader representation. I recommend their maps to anyone, and have given some as gifts.

(Note: I’m six months late in starting to catch up with my reading this past summer. Every journey starts with a single step, and all that. I started this post in June.)

Eighteen months after seeing the movie, I read Atonement with interest. The book drenched me in gloom, but in such a way that the pages kept turning. Ian McEwan colors his words with ominous anticipation. Some of that, certainly, owes to my knowledge of the story, but hardly all.

The writing displays sheer pleasure in authorship, which fits the story on many levels. While reading, I flagged a few passages.

I love the direct transmission of human experience envisioned here, but the sly wink from McEwan, using an unreliable narrator who also happens to be an author, makes it all the more delicious.

A story was direct and simple, allowing nothing to come between herself and her reader–no intermediaries with their private ambitions or incompetence, no pressures of time, no limits on resources. … It seemed so obvious now that it was too late: a story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader’s. [page 35]

I also bookmarked pages 138-139 while reading. Upon re-reading several months later, more than one passage grabs me, but I’ll share this one, pulled from the thoughts of Emily, the matron.

Even being lied to constantly, though hardly like love, was sustained attention; he must care about her to fabricate so elaborately and over such a long stretch of time. His deceit was a form of tribute to the importance of her marriage. [page 139]

More broadly, the movie and book told the same story, which always surprises me when done well. Some stories need to change more dramatically for the screen. (Emily’s point of view, for instance, disappears from the movie, but that’s a limited edit.) Two main differences occur to me. First, the movie’s flashbacks helped “deceive” the viewer into considering a more positive outcome. Second, when reading the book, I found the author’s presence was palpable.

Still, one final accord between novel and film: the green dress I so vividly remember from the movie springs straight from the page (91, to be exact).

Not planned, but found myself doing anything and everything but updating the blog this summer. More than a dozen books and a handful of movies await a capsule review, or at least an aside. School starts for the kids today, and the education from our adhesive customers is in the near future. Oh, and a move… just to keep things lively around here. More soon. Or later.

I spent a recent Tuesday evening watching Star Trek, the new movie with the old name. The Batman refresh opened doors for this movie. Adding in J.J. Abrams as director, at the height of his powers (and clout), gave Star Trek a great platform to go where we’ve all gone before, gladly.

My immediate reaction?

finally caught Star Trek. Fun, but needed some Klingons instead of deranged Romulan miner as foil for Kirk, Spock and crew. Red matter?!?

With a bit more reflection, and space, I appreciate the restart of once-compelling franchise. Handling the aging of Shatner, Nimoy, and crew was getting to be beyond awkward. Rewinding to the never-before-shown beginning of their “careers” gives the well-known characters additional years to tell new & different tales without apologizing or hiding their age.

In this movie, the scenes on planets (Earth and otherwise) are more compelling than the starship moments. Time travel plays too large a part, but I’ll forgive the trick as long as subsequent films take advantage of the wide open vistas of storytelling space generated by this gimmick.

Metacritic calculates an 83. I date myself by preferring Wrath of Khan still.

My high school coaches impressed upon me very clearly the importance of getting a good night’s sleep the night before the night before a race or competition. The theory — which I subscribe to — is that nerves and anticipation may disrupt your sleep on the eve of the event. Accept that, and don’t worry about it… you’ll just toss and turn a few extra times if you do.

But, if you can, get some extra sleep two nights prior. Rest is an edge, and once you’ve put in the work preparing to compete, you’d be foolish to give up such an easy advantage.

On Sunday, after two nights’ sleep, I’ll jump into San Francisco Bay to race in the 2009 edition of the Escape from Alcatraz triathlon. My training this year has been better documented than in the past, but I’ve made different choices, too, so not sure about comparables.

In 2005, my only previous Alcatraz race, I finished 181st among the amateurs, with a time of 2:52:45. The links in that old post are dead, sadly, but I have a printout of the 2005 results. 49:52 for the swim, 6:51 for the first transition (which includes a run of a half-mile or so), 56:29 for the 18 mile bike ride, 1:41 for the second transition, and 57:56 for the 8 mile run, including the sand steps/ladder in 2:17.

Thinking ahead to Sunday, I don’t expect much better for the swim, which put me in 655th place then. Again this year, I did enough in the pool to know I can finish it…but not much more. Realistically, I’ll come out of the water with plenty of people to chase.

I’ve been racing on the bike this year, which is new to me. Consider my 2005 words:

I wonder what’s it like to just race on the bike… it was fun to pour on the pedals with the streets closed to cars.

That’s what led to my starting bike racing last year, actually.

I commute on my road bike over much of the bike course quite regularly, so I have no excuses not to have a great ride, and I expect to. Still, not sure how much more time I can gain over my 2005 split, which was 63rd among amateurs that year.

I’ve been running a bit less, with fewer dedicated hill repeats this year. Several of my tempo runs have been excellent, though, so I’m hoping to gain a little time there, too. Not sure I can better my 115th place run from four years ago, but the pace is doable.

I was conservative in my 2005 predictions. I don’t think I’m being too aggressive now in saying I believe I can do better than last time, but Sunday will tell the story.

Rudo y Cursi was an unknown quantity when I entered the theater. A Mexican film (with subtitles) about two soccer-playing brothers, Rudo y Cursi mimics an earthier, adult Hoop Dreams. But it’s not a documentary: too raw and real to be anything but fiction.

This simple film delights in the very human flaws of the two brothers and their extended family. They support each other, fight each other, and end up facing each other on the field with their futures on the line. While soccer is the thread, not much action is on screen…and that works. However, the ending cycles back to an earlier scene in a knowing way, with a nod to the harshness of the game.

67 from MetaCritic falls short of my rating, though I wouldn’t go as high as the user rating of 90. We saw this film two weeks ago, and besides Up and Star Trek, I’m not sure what else worth seeing is out there right now.