skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Though The Post-American World is a rather alarming title, Fareed Zakaria is quick to state that it’s ‘not about the decline of America but rather about the rise of everyone else.’ Essentially, the book details the ways that globalization has resulted in the fundamental shift of political and economic (though not military) power away from American dominance and toward the two fastest growing economies today, China and India.
Unfortunately, none of the date presented here is new, nor is it analyzed in a unique way. Zakaria writes
for Newsweek, and this felt like an extended article from that magazine: more a digest of information than one with much real depth of its own.
But what makes this book worth reading is the call for America to begin to act as an honest power broker between other countries that may one day overtake it. Cue analogy to post-imperial Britain. But what is resounding is the utter absurdity of America’s foreign policy when it comes to emerging nations: nuclear technology isn’t allowed unless you had it before the mid 1960s (unless you are an ally). Use clean technology, even though we don’t, etc. Zakaria wants the next president to bring America’s rules for the world and for itself into alignment. Again not necessarily a new idea, but a sound one.
In my inexpert opinion, I felt that more attention should have been paid to some of the negatives to the end of the Cold War, a viewpoint that no Democrat or Republican has really been ready to take. Two major powers diametrically opposed and controlling virtually the entire world is almost unheard of in history. America’s influence was such that it could literally persuade other nations to do things not in their own best interests because few wanted to shift their alignment to the Soviets. With no clear opposition, countries are now looking to strike deals that are in their interests, regardless of whether said countries have been ‘approved’ by America.
And that is where economic powers like China, who have no problem dealing with countries with human rights issues, like Zimbabwe, come in. The lack of clear opposition has as much to do with the current globalization climate as anything else, and Zakaria would have done well to dedicate a chapter to it in what really isn’t a very long book.
Along with a lot of other people, this book came to my attention when then presidential candidate Obama was photographed carrying it on a runway, finger inserted in the middle to keep his place. Can’t ask for a better blurb than that. But I tend to wonder what the new president really could learn from The Post-American World. It’s well stated, but not new material, or even a new twist on the old. And if it isn’t new to me, it certainly couldn’t have been to him.
One tends to wonder how many photographs showing presidents carrying books are truly presidents carrying props.
When it comes to nonfiction books, I seem to delineate between the ideas contained in the text and the presentation of that text in ways that I fail to with fiction. For instance, I feel the prose in fiction is much more intrinsically bound to meaning than it is in a nonfiction work, with notable exceptions of course. Is this justified? And can one separate the two when reviewing a book that is heavily ideological but not delivered in an engaging manner? Or is rendering a verdict on a work make the conflation necessary? As I continue to study the book review as a fo
rm, these are questions to keep in mind.
As to the subject at hand, I found the ideas in Stephen Breyer’s Active Liberty to be enlightening and thought provoking, but didn’t feel that the presentation lived up to the material. Based on a series of lectures the Associate Justice of the Supreme Court delivered at Harvard in 2004, the ‘book’ is only 135 small pages with generous margins, making it seem more a pamphlet. Essentially, the book serves as a refutation of the ideas of fellow Justice Antonin Scalia, firmly opposed to originalism.
Active Liberty gets its title from the political philosopher Benjamin Constant, who makes a distinction between the ‘liberty of the moderns’ and the ‘liberty of the ancients.’ Modern liberty would be the kind that we think of most often, that associated with the Bill of Rights which gives us the freedom from the government telling us what to believe or where to live. But ancient liberty, Breyer’s active liberty, is the citizens sharing decision making with the government.
Instead of laying out a firm ideological stance, Breyer is more pragmatic in his approach. As I am nearing thirty and now own a home and pay considerable taxes, I am much more pragmatic than I was as impoverished far left college student. But that doesn’t mean I have abandoned my beliefs or backed down, only that for many things (like school performance) I have no real preference other than to know that my tax dollars are being spent wisely and effectively. Breyer’s book is more of an interpretive guide to show judges a way to give more weight to the practical consequences of his or her rulings, and to the structural elements of American democracy that favor citizen participation. He feels this would move the Court back towards the years of Earl Warren, and away from the Rehnquist model. (The book was published in 2005, on the cusp of the Roberts court.)
All this is well and good, but the examples Breyer uses are a bit staid. The best case study is of Grutter v. Bollinger, where the Court ruled on the ability for the University of Michigan’s law school to give preferential treatment to minority applicants. Siding with the university, which prevailed in the case, he gives practical consequences for his decision, claiming that the workforce needs diversity. He uses examples from the military, whose officer corps gives a leg up to minorities, which seems incredibly smart and important when one considers the large number of white officers and the overwhelming numbers of minority enlisted.
What Scalia and the originalists claim is that without sticking precisely to the text of the constitution, a judge is just making up the law as they go. What Breyer attempts here is attempt to give a different method of interpretation that uses a consistent application of legal principles, a more practical argument than impassioned one. He also cringes when courts seem to decide cases based on their own feelings of right and wrong, preferring to judicial restraint.
While I agree greatly with most of Breyer’s assertions, he lacks the passion of Scalia. Despite what one thinks of the man or his opinions, it would be hard to dispute that he is an interesting guy to listen to. I suppose that after coming to really admire Breyer when reading Jeffrey Toobin’s The Nine, I wanted this to be an effective punch thrown against originalism. Instead, Active Liberty seems to only be a glancing blow.
In one of the first of the soon to be ubiquitous Best of 2008 lists, Amazon.com has selected Philip Hensher’s novel, The Northern Clemency, as the best book released this year. People are always quick to criticize these lists, often for good reasons, yet I kind of enjoy them. They expose me to works that I otherwise would never even be aware of, not so much due to my ignorance but more because of the dearth of book reviews being generated by newspapers and the like. I’ve never heard of Hensher or his novel, but it does sound interesting and I may look it up in t
he near future.
Of the 100 Best Books of 2008, I have thus far read nine. That’s actually a better average than I am used to; looking at the New York Times’ Notable Books for 2002 leaves me wondering how it is I have only read six, even with the extra time. Of those nine, I only really have a problem with the inclusion of Philip Roth’s Indignation. I read this book over the summer and was struck at the lack of freshness in theme and prose from one of America’s supposedly leading writers. Perhaps it isn’t that the novel was included that irks me, but there is no way that Roth’s 33rd novel is the 32nd best of the year. More obvious bias toward an established author.
By the way, the best book of 2008 that I have read: Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland. It’s got cricket and crime, not to mention stirring, emotional prose. It’s fifteen on Amazon’s list, and the highest among those I have read (which might mean I should pick up the first fourteen).
Amazon also included a Customer’s Best of 2008 list. But rather than being a list compiled by the opinions of the site’s millions of users, it is in fact merely a Top 100 Bestseller list. Why a company who pioneered the consumer-rating system would print such a list is beyond me. Bestselling in no way means best in quality. I am sure that all books on the Founding Fathers and WW2 sell well, but that is because no one knows what to get their father for Father’s Day. Millions of people watch American Idol, as they do movies with Keanu Reeves. Enough said?
Example: Dan Ariely’s Predictably Irrational, which apparently was the 23rd bestselling book of the year. An exploration of so-called behavioral economics, trying to latch on to the Freakanomics audience, Ariely’s book couldn’t be less interesting or insightful. He points out things that everyone already knows, for instance that I’ll likely help you move your couch for free but not for a dollar, and his prose style is soporific.
Why not have the best reviewed books by customers in 2008? Sure things would be thrown off a bit, with political books dragged down by partisan votes and popular books receiving many votes being at a disadvantage to those that receive but a few. But that would be interesting, and more in line with the way Amazon is trying to sell its Customer List. And it just might get some publicity for the site.
That said, the bestseller list isn’t without interest itself. The bestselling book was the last Twilight book by Stephanie Meyer that I understand involves teen romance and vampires. But this is something anyone who reads the NY Times Book Review would already know. What really is surprising is that the fourth edition of the Dungeons & Dragons Core Rulebook Gift Set was only outsold by 24 other books this year. I had no idea so many 49-sided dice were being rolled out there.
For what it’s worth, the bestselling book on Amazon that I had read is Fareed Zakaria’s The Post-American World, which I finished last week. Expect thoughts on that before the weekend.
As I think more and more about it, the easier it is to understand just why Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint is considered one of his better books, landing on all those Top 100 novels of the 20th Century list. The comical prose, Portnoy’s sexual desire and frustration, and the touches of the self-conscious in the prose all foreshadow what later become so central to all of his work. But on its own, at least in 2008, it just doesn’t really work all that well.
I’m not a person to get offended by bad language; of Carlin’s seven words, I probably use at least three on a daily (if not hourly) basis. Published in 1969, during the sexual revolution (among others), the novel seems to be dated today, likely due to the lack of shock our society has over a lot of the discussed themes and words. While I don’t necessarily hear the word ‘cunt’ all that often, it doesn’t exactly make me flip out.
The novel is narrated in a continuous monologue, by Alexander Portnoy to his psychologist. The narrative jumps all over the history of his life as he relates scenes from throughout, all centering on his central problem: the inability to enjoy all the sexual feelings he experiences, causing him to seek out grater acts of debauchery to satisfy the urges. He frequently uses bawdy and descriptive language to describe these scenes, also hitting on such taboo subjects as incest and prostitution.
The book strikes one as highly autobiographical, which is frequently alluded to by Roth’s alter ego Nathan Zuckerman, and in Zuckerman’s family’s reactions to Carnovsky, the fictional Portnoy’s Complaint. Zuckerman doesn’t understand why no one believes that he just made all of it up, and to an extent I agree with him. Nothing here is beyond the faculties of most people to create on their own.
In his autobiography The Facts, Roth describes the genesis of the novel being a dinner table comedy routine he performed for friends. More than anything, this feels like a sort of routine gone too long. The joke wears thin long before the book is even half over. Critics have compared the narrative to those performed by Lenny Bruce, which is interesting though I am unfamiliar with Bruce’s work.
One interesting note: the theme of indignation is addressed here by quoting the national anthem of China. This forms a central component to his latest novel, Indignation, and I am sure there is a paper there for someone to write.
Portnoy’s Complaint may be essential reading for those trying to understand Roth, for it does mark a turning point in his fiction. However, for one just wanting to enjoy a novel by the man, I’d start with The Ghost Writer. Read out of context, it wouldn’t surprise me if more people of my generation found the novel unsatisfying because we’ve already become inured to its shock value.
Ever since The Empire Strikes Back, the middle story in a trilogy almost always seems to end with our heroes facing seemingly unconquerable odds that we know they will find a way to overcome. Actually, it’s probably been around a lot longer, but I am a man of my generation. Anyway, it comes as no surprise at the end of Mere Mortals when the shit has hit the fan and the whole future of the known ST universe seems in doubt.
While this general principle doesn’t spell disaster for a storyline on its own, I can’t imagine how David M
ack’s Destiny trilogy is going to have a satisfying conclusion. Incorporating elements from every television series as well as a handful of the novels, he has constructed a plot that actually is able to sustain it all. Unfortunately, there are visible seams where he’s sewn it together.
Nothing much happens in this book. Of the three basic storylines, only Captain Hernandez’s long history with the Caeliar has any real movement, and essentially that’s just to catch the reader up to the present day, so the final book can wrap everything up. The Enterprise and Aventine are at the explosion site of Erigol, which has spawned a cluster of hyperdimensional portals, one of which the Borg is using to launch their attacks on the Federation. Their mission: find out which pathway and collapse it. Of course, it’s not that simple; there has to be a third book. Titan is trapped at New Erigol in the same manner that Columbia was in the last book.
At the conclusion, as anyone with half a brain cold have predicted, the Borg haven’t been stopped but are in the process of launching a massive attack on known Federation and Allied space. Yawn.
The worst part of the whole scenario is that with Hernandez’s powers via the Caeliar, it seems probable that she will be instrumental in defeating the Borg. Our heroes are going to essentially sit back and watch helplessly. To anyone reading the first two books, it is obvious that the Caeliar and Borg share an origin, and with the stated power of the Caeliar to displace entire civilizations, it is all but certain that the Borg will be displaced to another galaxy.
Mack’s juvenile sensibilities are on display again, too. Hernandez has a mishap with a musical instrument, playing a note so low it causes her to shit her pants. Ha ha. It amazes me that he was able to resist prison-style lesbianism as the four women are trapped together without men for decades. But even in a meaningless fight between the crews of Enterprise and Aventine with the Hirogen, Mack is able to write compelling hand-to-hand fight scenes. This is his real strength, but unfortunately something better suited to a visual medium.
The astropolitical ramifications of events are a refreshing change as well. Too often it seems that events happen in a vacuum, but here we see manipulation and bartering that make up the best of politics in any realm. Though I am not a huge fan of aping The West Wing, Mack stayed away from that with President Bacco, and she seems like her own character for the first time here.
There are a bunch of little things to nitpick. One, even the grunts on Enterprise are officers. Why Starfleet never has infantry makes no sense, especially in wartime. Hernandez doesn’t sound like the actress who portrayed her at all, though that may be the one-dimensional writing of the television show than a fault of Mack.
But what really stands out, as in the last book, is why Ezri Dax is captain of a cutting edge ship. There is technology on Aventine so secret that not even Geordi has clearance to know about it. Surely Starfleet didn’t just build one of these. If these new ships are so powerful, where are the rest of them? It’s blindingly obvious that for plot purposes Mack needed a ship that could do all sorts of things an average ship couldn’t. So he invents this new ship to fill that need, even though ramifications of the new class’s construction aren’t considered.
So we have a largely plot based story that is massive, yet it would be easy to sit down and graph the outline that was probably used. And since one is able to do this before the third book has even been released, it doesn’t seem likely that there will be any surprises when Lost Souls comes out. Perhaps Destiny is going to change the ST universe forever, but it seems to me that mot of the changes won’t really affect our characters all that much.
Damn shame.
If you are a fan of Nick Hornby, you’ll enjoy his young adult novel Slam. The same charm and wit that made About a Boy so good from both perspectives is available here, and while this novel isn’t among his best, it is an enjoyable ride.
Fifteen-year-old Sam is Hornby’s narrator, a skater in London who lives with his mom. They aren’t rich, but they are making it. Sam’s mom had him when she was sixteen, so S
am has heard time and again how important it is not to get someone pregnant at a young age. So of course when Sam meets Alicia, they quickly fall in love and she ends up pregnant. Before they find out though, the relationship—as those between teenagers often do—cools when the freshness is gone.
But rather than some typical ‘boy has to grow up and be a man’ narrative, Hornby deals with the stress and fear of telling parents and worrying about the future in a bit of a satirical way. Already some kids at their school have children, the school even has a new program in place to help teenage parents, and so it is somewhat happy to be able to try it out.
Alicia’s parents are college professors, while Sam’s dad is a plumber. I was surprised at how well the class disparity was used; Alicia’s parents don’t understand why ‘you people’ can’t ever control your kids. Hornby doesn’t let this disparity take center stage, but it is an undercurrent demonstrating how the world looks at teenagers from different classes, if not races. It also subtly reflects how so often we never get farther than our parents did, no matter who we are; those with affluence stay there, those who grew up in a trailer park usually stay there too.
Some of the plot devices just don’t work. Sam talks to a poster of Tony Hawk who often responds with quotes from his autobiography. He also whooshes Sam forward twice so he can see his own future. These trips seemed to do little for him or me; sure we get a flash-forward to see what’s going on then, but no one really seems to learn anything. And Hornby ends the novel with a Q&A between Sam and the reader that neatly ties up loose plot ends. That’s a device that almost never works (and it doesn't here).
Yet I found the book oddly moving. Teenage pregnancy is dealt with in a reasonably real way, especially with regards to the relationship between Sam and Alicia. They live together in her parent’s house after the baby is born, but that doesn’t last. Yet they still find a way to be happy, even in a nontraditional sense, something that I wish was more prevalent with the people I grew up with.
For a novel targeted primarily at teens, there is a message underlying everything: be careful, don’t get pregnant. But if you do, neither of your lives will be over, just different. You can still be happy. How much easier would it be on teens in this situation if that were how they really felt their families and friends would receive them?
Changing subjects: those of you who know me are aware of my interest in the design of books, both their out
ward appearance and the interior writing space. The above cover is from the paperback version of the novel that has just been released. I think it works well on a number of levels: the stork kind of depicts the contents, and the design is reminiscent of Hornby’s other novels. It’s simple, it helps orient the reader with a style familiar with a big author like Hornby, and it reflects the narrative.
But the second cover here is from last year’s hardcover. Hornby’s name is prominently displayed, but the style doesn’t remind me of his other works nor does it give any real insight into the book. All I can tell is that a kid likes to jump around. I guess it may reflect the narrative, but it's so vague that no one would have any idea what it was about.
Clearly I have a preference for the paperback, but for more than one reason. I understand that a lot of books are being marketed as young adult fiction because it is more profitable for the publishing company. If you can tie in to even a small percentage of the Harry Potter market, you can build a new story onto your house.
But with a book like this, by a name author who has written a text that is equally accessible to teen and adult audiences, it might be a better option to go with the cover that reflects his adult works. Were I Barnes & Noble, I’d slide a few copies into the adult section and maybe on a table somewhere up front. You can cross-market these novels in an effective way, but not if their covers are telegraphing that ‘young adult’ label.
This analogy has never been more true: procrastination is just like masturbation; at first it feels great, but then you realize you're just fucking yourself. Despite the October 27th due date for my thesis proposal, I have yet to actually sit down and write a single word. Most of it is plotted in my head, but I can't seem to find the stamina to sit down and get it on paper. However, my academic writing comes in powerful bursts after long periods of inaction, so I am expecting to be able to type a few thousand words tomorrow afternoon so I don't look horrible in front of my thesis chair.
Among other things, casual reading has provided a means of distraction, one that I am unsure I will ever be able to do without. The common wisdom is that has no time for personal reading when in grad school, but I have found a way to balance both. Perhaps my program is easier than some, perhaps my ability to write polished first drafts keeps my grades artificially high. No matter the case, I need to develop better habits in academic writing or the professorial career I am pursuing my be much more unpleasant than I am expecting.
Anyway, while I was avoiding reading scholarly works on semiotics, I managed to finish 15 books and graphic novels:
I also am making slow progress through Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives, which at times I feel is a masterpiece and at others terribly bored by the glacial progress. I did write a response to Bacevich's book on the US as an imperial power, but felt it was much too personal to post here. I hope to use it later when writing a broader piece. If you haven't read the book, Bill Moyers did a fascinating interview with Bacevich on PBS.
I'll also have so thoughts on Hornby's Slam in the next day or so.
Your questions and comments, as always, are appreciated.
for Newsweek, and this felt like an extended article from that magazine: more a digest of information than one with much real depth of its own.
