Friday, October 25, 2024
Fons Van Dyck - De Toekomst Is Terug (Pelckmans, 2024) ***½
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Noel B. Gerson - Queen of Caprice - A Biography of Kristina of Sweden (Sapere, 1962) ***½
"Professor Stiernhielm brought the microscope and the burning glass home from his travels, and in his classroom he demonstrated their marvels. He showed his students a flea under the microscope, and in a dramatic demonstration of the power of the glass, burned the long beard of a peasant. He was arrested, thrown into prison, and tried before a provincial court. The peasant declared that he was a sorcerer, and a pastor who had been present when the flea had been exhibited under the microscope, testified that the professor was an atheist. Stiernhielm was sentenced to burn at the stake. The case was called to Kristina's attention, and she hastily reversed the order, restored the professor to his former position and rebuked the court. But a few months later, Stiernhielm's life again was threatened. He made the statement in a lecture that Hebrew was an older language than Swedish, and this startling pronouncement so infuriated his students that they rioted. A detachment of royal cavalry saved the professor's life and escorted him to Stockholm, where Kristina expressed her opinion in terms that no one could misunderstand: she made Stiernhielm a noble and expelled the rioters from the university." (p. 82)
Despite her being very catholic, and asking any support possible from the Vatican to help her with her situation, she was still - as usual - very critical of the Church at the same time/
In one of her letters: "In all candor, however, I am compelled to observe that the Church must certainly be governed by the Holy Spirit, for since I have been in Rome I have seen four popes, and I swear that not one of them had common sense" (p. 263)
She was also a social non-conformist, and even when young she enjoyed horse-riding and sword-fighting for which male clothing was more comfortable. She did not care about what other people thought or said about this. If she wanted to wear trousers, she would wear trousers. At the same time she was very conscious of her femininity. She also liked to be confrontational and expose hypocrisy.
"A new law caused her to revolt. The Pope issued a stern decree in which he said that the dress of ladies was shocking and extravagant; even those who could afford to buy costly gowns should find other, worthier ways to spend their money, and he deplored current styles, which featured low-cut dresses and bare arms. Kristina made no protest, but invited the Pope to call on her at his convenience. When he arrived at her palace, she received him in a shapeless, ragged, long-sleeved dress that she had bought from a peasant woman. She had expanded her court in recent years to include several ladies, and all of them made their obeisances similarly attired." (p. 276)
She was an unusual character with an unusual personality. This makes her biography interesting and fun reading. The book is well written and nicely documented with diary notes and correspondence by the queen herself or by her long-time servant Mathilde. It offers plenty of anecdotes about her interaction with the highest nobility and royalty of Europe, while at the same time about her almost boyish sense of rebellion. You marvel at her single-mindedness, her broad-mindedness, her cultural and scientific curiosity and the constant counterforces in her that undermine most of her grand scale endeavours.
Dan Goodley - Disability and Other Human Questions (Emerald, 2021) ***
"What I am suggesting is that disability opens up possibilities for rethinking desire and, in particular, the desire for connection. Like belonging, connection acknowledges our need for others and others' need for us. Disabled people have magnified the importance of these interconnections through their political movements, their arts, their culture and their history. Take these connectivities that are commonly found in the world of disability: human-animal (in the case of guide or service dogs), human-machine (when one considers the use of wheelchairs and other prosthetics) and human-human (in the case of personal assistance or support workers). These exemplify what Barbara Gibson (2006) calls 'disability connectivities'. The centrality of connectivity, care and support in the lives of many disabled people has emphasised the human gains of partnership, community building and interdependence. This latter term, Solveig Reindall (1999) has argued, recognises that we are all situated and embedded in a host of communities. And to pursue interdependence unveils new kinds of desire. 'Desire itself', Margrit Shildrick (2007, p. 242) writes, 'is no longer figured in terms of lack but is always directed outwards' to establish ever renewed zones of connection. Our capacities as human beings- the things we can and cannot do-are always contextual and relational". (p. 50)
Inspirational and valuable.
Monday, October 21, 2024
Carlos Manuel Álvarez - The Tribe (Fitzcarraldo Editions, 2022) ****½
"A throng of brothers, cousins, nephews and neighbours are waiting for the homecoming of the prodigal son. Also waiting for him is a lechona - a fifteen pound suckling pig - transformed by the carver's art to create perniles, masas, brigade, rabo, cabeza, pork stew and a mountain of crispy chicharrohnes" (p.34)
The story of elderly Candida:
"In 1996, Hurricane Lili destroyed Candida's house. She received a government grant for reconstruction materials, but they never showed up. She stayed in the house, which was almost a complete ruin, until someone in the neighbourhood emigrated to the United States. Before the government could confiscate their property, Candida made it her own. "I'm a force to be reckoned with. I take life on and I'm not afraid, that's how God intends it. I went up onto the roof, got into the little patio, broke the seal and snuck into the apartment where I live today." When the Housing Department tried to get her out, the neighbours protested. Candida deserved a decent home. She didn't know whether or not she deserved it, but what she did know, as she stood there, machete in hand, was that nobody was going to kick her out. She denounced the police, went to the Party and the government, insulted any and every official they put before her, and in the end she won the battle." (p. 198)
A paragraph on the sordid fate of the Cubans who eventually manage to stay in the United States:
"People who have never learned to ride a bicycle will have to buy a car and learn to drive within the week, to negotiate the broad expressways that zigzag through the city, to negotiate with dealers, to work ten hours or more a day, pay rent and taxes they barely understand, adjust to the gruelling habit of punctuality, of obeying superiors, of applying for debit and credit cards, and other things about which they know nothing. And they will thrive, because they carry within them a memory of the place they came from, a country that sadly had little to offer them, but it won't be a piece of cake. There are almost no documented cases of Cubans who legally travelled to Miami later deciding that they made the wrong decision. Fewer still for these people, who have burned their bridges. " (p.243)
Or on his disappointment with the Castro family regime:
"It is a personal defeat, whereas we are talking about the defeat of a people. And that's something sacred, it's a tragedy. Cuba is a patchwork of capitalism and socialism that is worse than useless. Go try to buy some food. You won't find any. Just look at the prices. Is the blockade to blame? It's fucking ridiculous. It's just not serious. Does our food come from London? Do yams come from Paris? No. Life is constantly in motion and it's like a game of chess. With every move, the board changes. You can't stay still. Things are the way they are because Fidel and Raul are in a standoff with the United States. And the whole thing is a barefaced lie. Raul says: "We can hold out for another fifty years." Well, yes, obviously, you can hold out. But the people can't hold out" (p. 247)
He describes the situation in a neighbourhood of Havana when there is suddenly again a delivery of eggs to the shop of the butcher who is called Fidel:
"This explains why, on the day the eggs reach their points of sale - small markets, grocery stores, cafes - there are genuine pitched battles between shoppers. Today is one of those days in this Cardenas neighbourhood. There is a horse cab stand just on the corner of Fidel's shop, and half-starved horses are constantly trotting down the road, wearing down the tarmac with their hooves. Spurred on by necessity, residents from every rung of the ladder hurry out. Word has spread. The neighbourhood is a chaotic hive. A long, restless and disgruntled queue of thirty people gathers halfway down the block from the shopfront. It's early in the morning, and it's always the same clients arguing over the eggs on free sale - generally housewives, punctilious grandmothers and retired old men. It's a picturesque local scene, touching somehow. Fidel knows every one of them and they all know Fidel. The queue unfurls and at certain points gets tangled up in knots of three or four, or it curves and curls around itself, like a boa digesting on the pavement. People's fabric bags are hanging from their forearms and their disposable bags are scrunched up in their fists or in their back trouser pockets" (p. 269)
Carlos Manuel Álvarez tells us about the lives of famous and less famous Cubans. The personal story is always the starting point: a baseball player, a musician, a gay man, an elderly lady, ... presented with a strong sense of empathy and respect for these people who sometimes manage to break out of the political and geographic shackles, sometimes not, but every personal story is about human nature, its resilience, its inventiveness, its capacity for creative solutions in the face of adversity and political regulations, and then again to lift it a level higher to a general criticism of the Cuban regime.
You get nineteen stories, nineteen captivating stories that are more literary than journalism, more factual than literature, and written with a great sense of composition and wording.
I also want to congratulate the publishing company, Fitzcarraldo, for their effort to translate the best of international literature into English. I bought the book because I trusted the publishing company. And they did not disappoint me yet.
Anne Applebaum - Autocracy, Inc. (Allen Lane, 2024) ****
Daniel Kahneman, Olivier Sibony & Cass R. Sunstein - Noise - A Flaw in Human Judgment (William Collins, 2022) ****
Saturday, October 19, 2024
Jim Crace - Eden (Picador, 2022) ****
"So this awkward and unnerving day subsides, although briefly on a calmer note. The masters can't have helped but smell the unease in the air - for everyone, not just the orchardman - since Tabi disappeared. The ground beneath even the angels' feet has quaked with the shock and disrespect of her departure and the fear of having to explain it all to the garden's lord when they next dare to visit him. They understand their workers, now fewer than fifty, are bereaved and must be reassured at once, before the imp of disobedience takes hold like some fastgrowing tare; and first one, then another, then a crowd grow bold enough to think that, possibly, the world is more enticing than eternity. Then what of eden?· Those tares will multiply. Those fields and gardens will grow wild. The masters cannot tend them on their own. Those walls and barns and sacred roosts will age and crack like trees, weighed down by ivy, moss and vines, brought down by wind and time. And what of angels? Where will they take wing? (p. 16)
Tabi has other opinions. She reflects upon her fate and situation. She challenges the other humans with her blasphemic thoughts. Unless you experience it yourself, you will never know. You just accept the narrative of somebody else.
"It's possible, she likes to tell her brothers and her sisters, who all must have thought the same a thousand times but never dared to say so, that life beyond the palisades is paradise. And eden is a lesser place! The sermons teach the labourers inside to think that their estate is measureless contentment and the outside world is little more than famine, pestilence and suffering. Great is their sorrow and fathomless their pain. But who's to say, unless they find out for themselves? Who's to say, indeed, that there is even death out there unless you are prepared, just once, to chance the moment and the toe? No, maybe death is a just a falsehood the lord has invented for fear of losing his labourers, she says. It's even possible his angels made it up themselves without his guidance. And what a fine deceit! If no one fears the world beyond the wall, everyone will leave. And then what will the angels do for sustenance and care? Angels are as helpless as a bush whose berries won't be picked and cooked except by human hands. A wing has never grasped a spade or worked a piece of dough or carried water from the well. They can't even lay an egg, can they? she asks, to shocked silence and then to laughter. What can an angel do without a little help, except expect to be obeyed? It's also possible, she finishes, that there is no lord above - Has anybody looked him in the face? - but only angels saying that there is. They claim to fly up to his firmament to tell him how his garden and his servants fare, when actually they only hide· behind a cloud and then return with lies to tell and further orders for us to obey. We're pinned down in our orchards and our fields, she says, for fear of someone who's not real. (p. 176-177)
"No, Jamin detests the go-between. It's not angelic, but he does. And he would like to see his fall from grace. He can imagine a not too distant day when the man, no longer anybody's eyes and ears, is just a common labourer, a digger in the mud, a beast of burden in the fields, a toiler in the moil, another pair of hands who'll work his bully fingers to the bone and have to spend a so-called day of rest and recovery at the stock pond under Jamin's command. 0 how the gentle angel will torment him then. How hard he'll make him work amongst the mud and weed. He'll have him clearing stones from the deepest parts. He'll have him picking out the duckweed with his fingertips. The go-between will be as damp and lowly as a worm. It is meanly satisfying to imagine him, dangling from a master's beak, as supper for the fish" (p. 38)
Tabi's friend Ebon wants her back, then decides to go and save her, a risky endeavour for him too, to leave the garden of eden. But the interest is ignited on the other side too, among the mortals, whose curiosity is increasing with the sudden arrival and the visibility of the angel. One of the mortals climbs on the ramparts of the garden of eden.
"What now? His family and neighbours are asking him to describe what he can see. They've no idea what to expect; but, now that they have somebody - their very first, their pioneer - up on the wall and within sight and smell and hearing of the truth, they're hoping that there is nothing they should fear. All the stories they have told themselves when they have gathered round their fires and heard the night wind beating on the barbican and shaking its great gates have never truly been believed but have nevertheless always had a tighter hold on them in the darkness than any daylight logic ever could. A yarn that's spun and woven out of midnight flames is always stronger than the silks of day. But standing in the shadow of the wall this morning they have their fingers crossed that fireside stories don't come true and that the world beyond the wall will turn out to be not so very different from their own. Something dull and unremarkable would not be a surprise. After all, the great trees that reach out across the rampart are no different from the branches that reach in. The birds that come and go across the wall - the pies, the jacks, the peckers and the tits, the rooks and starlings, and the doves - are all familiar. As are the plumes of smoke when winter fires are lit." (p. 217).
Peter Godfrey-Smith - Living On Earth (Harper Collins, 2024) ***
Michael Cunningham - Day (4th Estate, 2024) **
I have not read everything by Michael Cunningham, but most of his novels: "A Home at the End of the World" (1990), "Flesh and Blood" (1995), "The Hours" (1998), "Specimen Days" (2005), "By Nightfall" (2010), "The Snow Queen" (2014), "A Wild Swan and Other Tales" (2015). His latest novel, "Day", comes nine years after the previous one, and it's possibly the least memorable of all.
Aglaja Veteranyi - Waarom Het Kind In De Polenta Kookt (Oevers, 2024) ***½
Jhumpa Lahiri - Roman Stories (Picador, 2023) **
John Banville - The Singularities (Swift Press, 2023) ****
"True, he was as fascinated as everyone else when the Godley Interference Effect arising from the field equations of the Brahma theory - that Effect the reality of which is even still hotly contested by the determinists, the priests, and the simple-minded, as we all know all too well - showed that every increase in our knowledge of the nature of reality acts directly upon that reality, and that each glowing new discovery we make brings about an equal and opposite darkening, the punching of a hole in the wall of the great sphere that is time and space and all besides." (p.90)
"As he went under the stone arch-the low, weather-worn gate had a rusted bolt but no lock-he experienced an odd effect. It was a shiver, or a kind of shimmer, as if he were not he but his own reflection passing through a flaw in a windowpane, or better say rippling over a crack in a full-length mirror. And stranger still, what emerged at the other side was not quite him, or was him but changed, being both less and more than he had been, at once diminished and at the same time somehow added to. The thing took no time at all, was over in the space of the blinking of an eye, yet the effect was palpable, and profound. Something had touched him, and left its indelible mark" (p.21)
The physical, psychological and phenomenological world are all one, and interact in mysterious ways.
In the old house, the wife of Adam Godley is still alive, living alone in her bedroom, in the presence of her dog. It is unclear whether she suffers from memory loss, dementia or other ailments, but in any case the inspiration for wonderful lyrical paragraphs such as this one.
"So here they are, woman and dog, the two of them, sharing the vast stillness in which the dog pants softly the way car engines used to pant, pant and shudder, when they still ran on petrol, when she was still a girl. It is as if everything everywhere has stopped, as if the earth has been abandoned. She tries to say the dog's name aloud and some sound comes out, some strangled sound that he seems to recognise, and slowly he lifts his big square head and looks at her, with a calm and disenchanted eye, telling her in a silence more eloquent than any words how it is with him, with her, with all the abounding world." (p.65)
The points of view alternate between Mordaunt and Jaybee, both presented with their respective arrogant and disrespectful view on life, harsh, selfish, with caustic thoughts written in a scathing and judgmental language. There are love affairs, there is theft, there are mysteries and documents hidden in secret cupboards. There is tension all around between the characters, their feelings and their actions.
But be that as it may, the Brahma theory still acts on all characters, and especially on Mordaunt, as if his prison sentence had only been a kind of interval between two states in the free world, but also as a kind of hard to grasp mystical experience.
"On that other side, everything had been different, no, everything had been nothing, everything including himself. Nothing. The experience had been, he realised, not an experience in life, and not in death, either, but an absence, an interval, a caesura, whatever to call it, such that the minutest particles fall into, fall out of, when they perform that famously impossible leap from one go-round to another, the riddle of which was solved and so simply by Adam Godley's interference equation. And a mark had been left on him, the indelible mark of Lazarus. The life that up to that moment had been a matter of sprawling possibilities had come suddenly to seem as narrow as the chiselled notch between the two bleak dates on a gravestone, an instant of an instant. He had died, and had lived. Impossible, and yet it had happened" (p. 241)
At the end of the novel, the couple living on the estate invite all their friends and neighbours and acquaintances to a big garden party. Mordaunt's and Jaybee's relative alienation increases. Even if both are completely different characters, they occupy some kind of mirror image of each other, different yet ressemblant. Mordaunt reflects on the guests at the party:
"And yet how nebulous these people were, not like people at all, really, even though he was familiar with at least some of them. The high full clouds imparted to the air a silvery shine, and the figures moving in it moved vestigially, like wraiths, or like the figures crowding in the background of a dream. Their voices too sounded frail in all that space, and instead of speaking they seemed to make a kind of twittering, as a flock of birds will make, settling upon the darkling trees at eventide. Yes, the day moves on, the sunlight comes and goes, the clouds make their stately, indifferent rearrangements, and the world wanes. (p. 298)
Banville creates a very complex narrative and compositional structure, with absolutely brilliant stylistic mastery of the language, deadly in his observations of human nature, and lifting the 'murder' story to a different level, one in which philosphy and the deeper nature of world also find a place. The main character's psychological distance to his world, his sociopathy, is also the main weakness of the novel. It's hard to have any emotional connection as a reader with the characters. It's all interesting to watch, interesting to read, and you want to know how all things will unfold, yet it's hard to even care what will eventually happen to the people in the novel. Distance is both the subject of the book and its hurdle.
Olga Tokarczuk - The Empusium (Fitzcarraldo, 2024) *****
The book ends with this "Author's Note":
"All the misogynistic views on the topic of women and their place in the world are paraphrased from texts by the following authors:Augustine of Hippo, Bernard of Cluny, William S. Burroughs, Cato, Joseph Conrad, Charles Darwin, Emile Durkheim, Henry Fielding, Sigmund Freud, H. Rider Haggard, Hesiod, Jack Kerouac, D.H. Lawrence, Cesare Lombroso, W Somerset Maugham, John Milton, Friedrich Nietzsche, Ovid, Plato, Ezra Pound, Jean Racine, Frarnçois de La Rochefoucauld, Jean-Paul Sartre, Arthur Schopenhauer, William Shakespeare, August Strindberg, Jonathan Swift, Algernon Charles Swinburne, Semonides of Amorgos, Tertullian, Thomas Aquinas, Richard Wagner, Frank Wedekind, John Webster, Otto Weininger and William Butler Yeats."
This novel is Tokarczuk's literary game with male supremacy, toying with it, exposing it, but in her usual non-conflictual way, with a deep respect for the opponent, and even sympathy. The main character is a young Polish man, who goes to Germany to be treated for lung problems (tuberculosis), like all the other characters in the novel, to a sanatorium in Görbersdorf, now called Sokołowsko, and located in Poland, the place which inspired Thomas Mann one hundred years ago (in November 2024) to write "The Magic Mountain". Like in Mann's novel, the protagonist meets a set of characters who all represent one or the other ideology of the moment, allowing for lengthy discussions about politics and philosophy.
But of course there is more going on. The book has many layers. It is a "horror story" as its subtitle suggests, and many other things are taking place, things that fall beyond the discussions among the men. Both cosmic events take place, as well as brutal primitive events.
"By a twist of circumstance, as Frau Opitz's body was descending on ropes into the open grave, the exact autumn equinox took place, and the ecliptic was aligned in such a special way that it counterbalanced the vibration of the Earth. Naturally, nobody noticed this - people have more important things on their minds. But we know it." (p. 82)
Every so often, yet sparingly, the "we" appear in the novel, described in the Cast of Characters at the beginning as the "Nameless inhabitants of the walls, floors and ceilings", beings that observe, that blend in with the background, yet are always present. The other aspect that is beyond control is brutal human nature: in the woods (outside civilisation) live the coal burners, who have made female puppets of natural materials that they can use as sex dolls.
The main character, Mieczyslaw Wojnicz, feels uncomfortable in this entire bizarre context. He is the odd one out, the neutral person all the other characters want to talk to, to convince him of their opinions, and yet he is also not what he seems. They mystery will not be revealed here, but he sheds a completely new light on the narrative. He engages with the other men, listens to them, talks to them, yet somehow feels alien to their world.
"The funeral was brief, devoid of unnecessary words, as if it were impossible to say more about this terrible, macabre event that should be forgotten as quickly as possible. And that was what Wojnicz did - he forgot. As they were driving back to the guesthouse, perversely, or mischievously perhaps, he asked Lukas and August if they believed in the immortal soul and what happened to it after death, and thus prompted a veritable pandemonium of ideas, arguments and counterarguments, quotations and references, so by the time the carriage was passing the nursing home at the start of their village, he did not know what his companions were talking about, and his only thought was of lying down in bed." (p. 82)
Women are almost absent in the novel, with a few exceptions. They are not subjects with a voice or a plot.
"'Woman represents a bygone, inferior stage of evolution, so writes Darwin, and he of all people has something to say on the matter. Woman is like .. .' - here he sought the right word - 'an evolutionary laggard. While man has gone on ahead and acquired new capabilities, woman has stayed in her old place and does not develop. That is why a woman is often socially handicapped, incapable of coping on her own, and must always be reliant on a man. She has to make an impression on him - by manipulation, by smiling. The Mona Lisa's smile symbolizes a woman's entire evolutionary strategy for coping with life. Which is to seduce and manipulate.' (p. 94)
The men are having a great time bouncing off abstract ideas and opinions, arguing with broad philosophical and ideological concepts, but Wojnicz is beyond this. He lives in another world, one that is not delineated by clear rules, categorisations, definitions and constraints. Here he remembers playing chess with his father when a kid.
"Little Mieczyslaw Wojnicz understood the rules (of chess) and could foresee a lot, but to tell the truth, the game did not interest him. Making moves according to the rules and aiming to defeat your opponent seemed to him just one of the possible ways to use the pawns. He preferred to daydream, and to see the chessboard as a space where the fates of the unfortunate pawns and other pieces were played out; he cast them as characters weaving complex webs of intrigue, either with or against each other, and linked by all sorts of relationships. He thought it a waste to limit their activity to the checkered board, to leave them to the mercy of a formal game played according to strict rules. So as soon as his father lost interest and went off to see to more important matters, Mieczys would move the chess pieces onto the steppes of the rug and the mountains of the armchair, where they saw to their own business, set off on journeys, and furnished their kitchens, houses and palaces. Finally his father's ashtray became a boat, and the pen holders were rafters' oars, while the space underneath a chair turned into a cathedral where the wedding of the two queens, black and white, was taking place." (p. 162)
Tokarczuk herself is a majestic player with language, with character, props, sub-plots and scenes. She is the one to colour outside the lines, to use her wonderful imagination to create a special carefully constructed edifice, that you can approach from many different angles and be suprised and perplexed by the wealth of ideas and possibilities for interpretation. Wojnich's closest friend Thilo is a fan of the paintings of Herri Met de Bles, a 16th Century Flemish landscape painter, who is known for the many levels of his work.
"How is it that from tiny strokes of a brush dipped in paint an entire world with many depths comes into being? De Bles's painting seemed fathomless - when he magnified it, he saw even more details, minute spots of paint, very light brushstrokes, indistinct patches and mysterious flaws. As he wandered about the clouds, supple, rounded lines emerged from them, resembling figures, faces or wings. But when he moved down towards the vegetation, among the leaves he saw eyes and noses, bits of hands and feet, elusive bodies that existed fleetingly, only when his vision brushed against them for a single, unrepeatable moment. In the aerial castle windows, he spied the corners of chambers, and semi-transparent creatures inside them, each connected with a tragedy, a regret. Maybe Abraham's sacrifice was being performed there too, but in slightly different configurations and with different actors? De Bles's canvas seemed to be full of messages, like a detailed map using a language of simple signs that carry branching meanings, a world that proves infinite once one goes deep inside, where one keeps discovering new things" (p. 259)
You can look at the trees and the details, but you can look at it from a further distance, and you will see something else entirely. This is Tokarczuk at play: inventive, creative, challenging the reader, throwing little hints and pieces of half-formed information, real elements (including pictures of the village and sanatorium) and wild fantasies. She is a true master, writing an entire novel with primarily male characters, yet in truth it's all about women, it's rational in the philosphical discussions, yet in truth it's about the in-between worlds that defy categorisation, that cannot be captured in words even, the world of the senses, a world that is as elusive as the narrator. It's a comedy on the surface, but a deep tragedy at the same time, a horror story. Her language is straightforward, as is her style - indeed Thomas Mann comes to mind - yet its clarity is in stark contrast with the darkness of the novel. The men all have the answers to the problems of the world, the men all believe they are in control, yet they are all ill, weak and brought together in a sanatorium in a desperate and more often than not futile attempt to make them healthy again. You can only appreciate the irony, while outside the sanatorium darkness reigns.
Brilliant!
Jenny Erpenbeck - Kairos (Granta, 2024) **
Miranda July - All Fours (Canongate, 2024) *
I'm sorry. I truly did not like this novel. The writing is bland, the plot puerile, the emotions shallow. It's about the mid-life crisis of a woman who wants to drive from the West Coast to New York on her own, in order to get some 'me-time', leaving her husband and child for a few weeks. She never gets past the next town, where she books a motel room and starts a relationship with a much younger married man. It's uninteresting, none of the characters resonate with me - yes, I am not a woman in her fourties, but still ... It all seems so fake, so programmatic, so self-absorbed. It puzzles me why anyone would write such a novel. So, good luck with it. You might have a different opinion.
Thursday, July 18, 2024
Douglas R. Hofstadter - Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid (Basic Books, 1979) *****
"The following sentence is falseThe preceding sentence is true"
"Here one runs up against a seeming paradox. Computers by their very nature are the most inflexible, desireless, rule-following of beasts. Fast though they may be, they are nonetheless the epitome of unconsciousness. How, then, can intelligent behavior be programmed? Isn't this the most blatant of contradictions in terms? One of the major theses of this book is that it is not a contradiction at all. One of the major purposes of this book is to urge each reader to confront the apparent contradiction head on, to savor it, to turn it over, to take it apart, to wallow in it, so that in the end the reader might emerge with new insights into the seemingly unbreachable gulf between the formal and the informal, the animate and the inanimate, the flexible and the inflexible. This is what Artificial Intelligence (AI) research is all about." (p.26)
or:
"No one knows where the borderline between non-intelligent behavior and intelligent behavior lies; in fact, to suggest that a sharp borderline exists is probably silly. But essential abilities for intelligence are certainly:
- to respond to situations very flexibly;
- to take advantage of fortuitous circumstances;
- to make sense out of ambiguous or contradictory messages;
- to recognize the relative importance of different elements of a situation;
- to find similarities between situations despite differences which may separate them;
- to draw distinctions between situations despite similarities which may link them;
- to synthesize new concepts by taking old concepts and putting them together in new ways;
- to come up with ideas which are novel. "
"This little debate shows the difficulty of trying to use logic and reasoning to defend themselves. At some point, you reach rock bottom, and there is no defense except loudly shouting, "I know I'm right!" Once again, we are up against the issue which Lewis Carroll so sharply set forth in his Dialogue: you can't go on defending your patterns of reasoning forever. There comes a point where faith takes over." (p. 192)
On the origin of life:
"A natural and fundamental question to ask, on learning of these incredibly intricately interlocking pieces of software and hardware is: "How did ever get started in the first place?" It is truly a baffling thing. One has to imagine some sort of a bootstrap process occurring, somewhat like that which is used in the development of new computer languages - but bootstrap from simple molecules to entire cells is almost beyond our power to imagine. There are various theories on the origin of life. The run aground on this most central of all central questions: "How did Genetic Code, along with the mechanisms for its translation (ribosome_ tRNA molecules), originate?" For the moment, we will have to content ourselves with a sense of wonder and awe, rather than with an answer and perhaps experiencing that sense of wonder and awe is more satisfying than having an answer-at least for a while". (p. 548)
Or using nice examples to make the reading easier to digest:
"Here is a well-known children's joke which illustrates the open-endedness of real-life situations:
- A man took a ride in an airplane.
- Unfortunately, he fell out.
- Fortunately, he had a parachute on.
- Unfortunately, it didn't work.
- Fortunately, there was a haystack below him.
- Unfortunately, there was a pitchfork sticking out of it. Fortunately, he missed the pitchfork.
- Unfortunately, he missed the haystack.
It can be extended indefinitely. To represent this silly story in a framebased system would be extremely complex, involving jointly activating frames for the concepts of man, airplane, exit, parachute, falling, etc., etc." (p. 675)
His ultimate endeavour is to link the world of abstract logic with the physical reality we live in, and of course especially our brain and its capacity to for abstract thought, to cross the levels set by scientific disciplines and to come to an more holistic understanding of the interactions.
"My belief is that the explanations of "emergent" phenomena in our brains-for instance, ideas, hopes, images, analogies, and finally consciousness and free will-are based on a kind of Strange Loop, an interaction between levels in which the top level reaches back down towards the bottom level and influences it, while at the same time being itself determined by the bottom level. In other words, a self-reinforcing "resonance" between different levels-quite like the Henkin sentence which, by merely asserting its own provability, actually becomes provable. The self comes into being at the moment it has the power to reflect itself.
This should not be taken as an antireductionist position. It just implies that a reductionistic explanation of a mind, in order to be comprehensible, must ring in "soft" concepts such as levels, mappings, and meanings. In principle, I have no doubt that a totally reductionistic but incomprehensible explanation of the brain exists; the problem is how to translate it into a language we ourselves can fathom. Surely we don't want a description in terms of positions and momenta of particles; we want a description which relates neural activity to "signals" (intermediate-level phenomena)-and which relates signals, in turn, to "symbols" and "subsystems", including the presumed-to-exist "self-symbol". This act of translation from low-level physical hardware to high-level psychological software is analogous to the translation of number-theoretical statements into metamathematical statements. Recall that the level-crossing which takes place at this exact translajon point is what creates Gödel's incompleteness and the self-proving character of Henkin's sentence. I postulate that a similar level-crossing is what creates our nearly unanalyzable feelings of self. In order to deal with the full richness of the brain/mind system, we will have to be able to slip between levels comfortably. Moreover, we will have to admit various types of "causality": ways in which an event at one level of description can "cause" events at other levels to happen. Sometimes event A will be said to "cause" event B simply for the reason that the one is a translation, on another level of description, of the other. Sometimes 'cause" will have its usual meaning: physical causality. Both types of causality-and perhaps some more-will have to be admitted in any explanation of mind, for we will have to admit causes that propagate both upwards and downwards" (p. 709)
"One way to gain some perspective on the free-will question is to replace it by what I believe is an equivalent question, but one which involves less loaded terms. Instead of asking, "Does system X have free will?" we ask "Does system X make choices?" By carefully groping for what we really mean when we choose to describe a system - mechanical or biological - as being capable of making "choices", I think we can shed much light on free will." (p. 711)
Ignaas Devisch - Een Kleine Filosofie Van Grote Emoties (Pelckmans, 2023) ***
"Een gesprek met een journalist of een bekende persoon gaat al gauw over de mens achter de functie en hoe die in het leven staat, welke donkere periodes die heeft meegemaakt en wat hem of haar drijft. Niet hoe de wereld is staat centraal, maar hoe we die ervaren en met die ervaring naar buiten komen. En het is maar de vraag of we hier niet doorslaan en stilaan terecht zijn gekomen in een opbod aan getuigenissen." (blz 31)
Of nog:
"De Nederlandse filosoof Theo de Wit het stelt kan slachtofferschap een aantrekkelijke manier worden om jezelf op de kaart te zetten en aandacht te eisen, maar gaat die aandacht gepaard met een ranzig kantje. Zeker 'in een postideologische wereld waar 'waarheid' vooral gevoelsmatig beleefde waarheid aan het worden is. Respect voor anderen is dan vooral respect voor andermans beleving van de waarheid. De kritische vraag naar de feiten achter die beleving kan dan als uiterst ongewenst worden ervaren; over gevoelens is het namelijk moeilijk discussieren.' Wanneer emoties een wapen worden om ons gedrag niet langer ter discussie voor te willen leggen, wordt het lastig om met elkaar samen te leven. Zoals Plato dacht dat je emoties kan uitschakelen om goed te kunnen nadenken, zo probeert men hier het omgekeerde: de gevoelens worden aan het gesprek of het debat onttrokken zodat ze de status van vastliggende waarheid verkrijgen en anderen er geen toegang of zelfs geen verhouding tot hebben." (blz 73)
"Wie daarentegen met mensen omgaat - denk aan artsen die patiënten ontmoeten - heeft wel degelijk andere kennis nodig dan alleen klinische gegevens. Weten hoe iemand eraan toe is en wat een ingreep met hem of haar doet, is allemaal bijzonder relevant en noodzakelijk voor een goeie omgang met elkaar. Dan gaat het vaak om ervaringskennis waar emoties een grote rol in spelen, en minder het louter cijfermatige of in formules om te zetten data. " (blz 56)
Niet alle emoties komen evenveel aan bod, en misschien is emotie als drijfveer tot handelen misschien de grootste misbedeelde in dit overzicht. We doen wat we doen omdat we ergens door gepassioneerd zijn, nieuwsgierig zijn, moreel geschokt zijn. Deze diepe emotie dat de wereld beter kan zijn, lukt enkel dankzij de energie die deze emoties tot stand brengen. Als Plato zijn figuurlijke paarden met de ratio in bedwang denkt te houden en de emoties naar de achtergrond wil brengen, dan stopt hij ook het draaien van onze wereld. Zelfs de grootste wetenschapper - die uiteraard geen persoonlijke gevoelens in haar methode toelaat - doet haar onderzoek gedreven door een diepe persoonlijke overtuiging en emotie.
Maar ik kan het iedereen aanraden. Denken over emoties met Devisch als gids, biedt veel inzichten en stof tot nadenken. Het is geen wetenschappelijk werk uiteraard, maar een persoonlijke mijmering die zeer laagdrempelig en zelfs een tikje persoonlijk.
John Glassie - A Man Of Misconceptions (Riverhead Books, 2012) ****
"Clavius envisioned an elite corps of mathematician priests "distributed in various nations and kingdoms like sparkling gems," serving as "a source of great fear to all enemies" and as "an incredible incitement to make young people flock to us from all the parts of the world." Many of his proposals were put in place. And so while he was rigorously and rather inflexibly educated in Aristotelian and Thomist doctrines, Kircher also received private instruction in the very discipline that was beginning to undermine them." (p.34)
Although already at that time, the role of the jesuits was often mocked, and Kircher clearly did not match the description of the ideal jesuit:
"Recall that for the Jesuits, the path toward Christ was predicated on an effort to achieve humility. It's unclear how well or how often Kircher took a good look at his apparent lack in that regard. But given that hypocrisy is almost requisitely present in human beings, and common among religious, political, and philosophical practices, he surely wasn't the only vain or selfinterested member of the Society of Jesus. As the satirizing sermon by a monk from another order in Rome went, the Jesuits "are the best Men that Live on the Earth. They are as Modest as Angels. They never open their eyes to cast a Look upon the Ladies at Church. They are such great Lovers of Restraint, that you never see them in the Streets. They are so in Love with Poverty, that they Despise and trample upon all the Riches in the World. They never come near Dying Persons or Widows, to importune them to be Remember' d in their last Wills .... They never go among Courts, or mind State Affairs." (p.209)
Kircher claimed that he could decipher hieroglyphs, and because nobody else had any clue, he was believed in this matter. When a heavy fallen obelisk was found, Kircher even gave the translation of the side that had not been revealed yet because it was still lying on the ground.
""They in turn marveled at my boldness," Kircher claimed, "and perhaps my lack of temerity, but several decreed that the truth of the matter must be determined by the original on the obelisk itself' After the obelisk had finally been rolled, they compared Kircher's scheme with the newly revealed side. "And when they had discovered that soundly and without error all of my markings were composed as on the original," he recalled, "they were utterly stupefied, those same men who were formerly mocking my interpretations as merely pure conjecture." This left "certain individuals saying that this knowledge had been inspired by the power of God, while several, not without calumny, even asserted that the knowledge had been acquired by some illicit pact with a demon. Some, finally, judged that this type of knowledge, attained by many years of study, was able to be acquired by the strength of a singular intellect." (p.204)
Kircher collected automata and made some himself, such as this wonderful tool that could do almost anything:
"What is known about Kircher's device comes from an instructional guide he wrote titled Specula Melitensis (Maltese Observatory), which, as one historian says, mostly conveyed Kircher's "enthusiastic capacity for fatiguing detail." The apparatus had "the form and figure of an observatory," or watchtower, hence its name, and it evidently employed the Llullian discs. Beyond that, it's hard to say precisely what this instrument looked like or how it worked. A "universal chronoscope" was on "the first cubical side." A "cosmographic mirror" was on the second. A "physico-mathematical mirror" was on the third, and the fourth cubical side was used for "medical-mathematical" purposes. The top of the structure was a pyramid. In all, the device had one hundred twenty-five functions. Among other things, it could be used to determine:
- the "amount of dusk"
- the "flux and reflux of the seas"
- the astrological houses of the planets
- the signs of disease and "simple medicines for healing"
- the best times to go fishing and to give birth" (p.90)
He was fascinated by everything, often boastful, less competent and scientific than he presented himself, but like with Leibniz, his unbridled interest in everything, and his incredibly productive output on so many topics raised the interest among other, possibly better scientists, to also start investigating the same topics with more success.
"Peiresc put it very mildly when he said that Kircher's ambitions were "a little grander than the ordinary goals of his colleagues." This led to a lack of restraint as well as other problems, including a certain flexibility with the truth. But for Kircher there were greater truths and lesser ones; there were different measures of truth, metaphors, and-multiple meanings, things for which fact-based modern science has no place. Progress required another kind of split, between the literal and the literary. But that was not a split Kircher ever would have been able to abide. And it makes sense that as his scientific reputation diminished, his work continued to capture and to fuel the creative imagination. (p. 269)
This biography is well-documented, well-written and offers a fascinating view on the century when science was still in its early infancy. That some did not make great inventions such as Kircher, is inevitable. His broad interests, his assured self-confidence and his deliberate fabrications make this a wonderful read.















