Dirt Clod Oven

This just somehow seemed appropriate for my first post since “Mission Accomplished.”

Conspiracy of Fools

Subtitle: “my dad went to Houston and all I got was this crummy crooked “E” hat.”

Just polished off the latest tome on the Enron debacle, by Kurt Eichenwald. I can attest that it is a true story, having lived it for 5 years. If you’re interested in how Enron caused the collapse of the stock market, the restructuring of corporate America, the Spanish Revolution, polio and chronic halitosis, this book is for you. Otherwise, don’t bother. Or, if you’re really into punishing yourself, follow this one up with “The Smartest Guys in the Room.” It’s pretty much the same book. I think there’s also a movie coming out.

Charlotte Simmons Needs a Good, Swift Punch in the Face

I blew through Tom Wolfe’s most recent doorstop in record time, thanks in large part to a scintillating stay in the Carmel (Indiana) Hampton Inn. First, the bottom line advice: read this book. You will not suffer. I was sure I was going to suffer. I didn’t. You won’t either.

First, the good. Wolfe weaves several plot lines together throughout the entire work, which keeps what could otherwise be a fairly mundane story churning. The stories of some of the side characters (especially that of Jojo Johanssen) are actually somewhat more interesting than that of the central character. The Charlotte Simmons story line is severely backwardated, resulting in an “okaaaaaay” ending, but that actually ties in nicely with my main complaint about the book (below).

In terms of setting, all the scuttlebutt has been that Wolfe nailed the college campus life and “scene.” I believe he did, but only to a point. Wolfe tends to wild hyperbole, which gives his vivid and detailed descriptions of campus life at the fictional Dupont University almost a cartoonish character. You know reality is tucked in there somewhere, but its sometimes hard to fish out.

Which actually brings us to the bad. I’m going to need some help here. When I finished, I spent a day thinking about what bothered me so much about this work. Then it occurred to me that, although the title character of this book is a girl (she really can’t be called a woman), there is not one single female character in this 700 page book, Charlotte Simmons included, who has even a shred of a redeeming quality (the only possible exception is Charlotte’s high school friend, Laurie, but she is so far from the central plot it’s really impossible to tell). As may be expected, most if not all characters in the book are archetypes, but none of the female characters represents anything even remotely positive. You have roommate Beverly and her ilk (Spoiled Boarding School Rich Kids), Bettina and her ilk (Jaded Boarding School Rich Kids), Camile (Foul Mouthed Socio-Intellectual Bully), the Chrissy/Nicole/Gloria Axis (Frat Sluts), Mother (Overprotective and Manipulative) and some generally unnamed professors and TAs (Idiots). In terms of side characters, that’s it, but it’s Charlotte who takes home the prize. I spent about half the book thinking we were driving toward some kind of Dagny Taggert-type female catharsis where Charlotte takes her knocks but, by drawing on her internal strength and maintaining her integrity, achieves her own victories Her Way. But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? Instead, Charlotte turns out to be, in my opinion, her own archetype: The Abject Failure. Charlotte apparently (it’s hard to tell because the end literally drives right off the cliff with almost no explanation) tosses away all her intellectual gifts and drive so that she can fit in and be noticed.

Now, contrast all this to the male archetypes in the book, which cover the waterfront. We have, among others, the Rich Successful Frat Boy (Vance), the Rich Blew It Frat Boy (Hoyt), the Geek Who Becomes a Man (Adam), the Redeemed (Jojo). All these dudes have serious flaws but all, except Hoyt, who Gets What He Deserves, have redeeming qualities.

So, what my little brain takes from all of this is the the Guy In The White Suit is either a) a serious misogynist or b) believes that all women want is to fit in and be loved and will do whatever it takes to get there (maybe a) and b) are 2 sides of the same coin). Or maybe I just think to much about fiction.

Anyway, this is bugging me. Can someone smarter me read this thing and set me straight?

OT: Announcing New Hardware

A Turdfecta

3 newbies to report here, today, now. Sorry, but though I enjoyed all 3, I can’t in good conscience recommend any to anyone without the precise, narrow, geeky interests of me, my ego and my half dozen or so other personalities. Anyway, here goes…

1: I finally polished off Joseph Campbell’s Myths to Live By. It made me tired.

Plot: none. Not even close. It’s a series of lectures Joe gave in the 60’s on the value of myth–generally as the precursor and necessary alternative to organized religion–from the beginning of time throughout the world (he tries to include the Moon, but I think he fails miserably on that stretch). So it’s temporally and geographically broad, enough to make my head hurt. OK, ‘nough complaining.

What I Learned: That organized religion blows. A lot. Especially Western organized religion: “we (westerners) have been bred into one of the most brutal war mythologies of all time.” As Joe seems to see it, it is our hard wired mythologies (e.g. the struggle against common enemy, nature) that historically resulted in epic tales of internal and external odyssies and that are the cement that holds our various societies together. These mythologies spawned organized religion–all of them–as a way to express their lessons. Eastern religions historically have remained pretty true to their mythological base, but western religions have for the most part completely bollocksed it up in favor of more mundane pursuits (mainly money, societal control and killing people). Relatively deep stuff for a dummy like me.

B. Keeping with the Joe theme, and wanting to rest my noggin, I picked up James Prosek’s Joe and Me. It made me nostalgic.

Plot: Old man befriends young man (author) and teaches him how and where to fish in rural Connecticut. Elvismith keeps waiting for old man’s hand to slide across the front bench seat of the old pickup and land on authors knee, and is sorely disappointed.

What I Learned: Fishing is fun!

III. Keeping with the “things that live under water” theme, I next polished off a heapin helpin (with drawn butter) of The Secret Life of Lobsters (don’t miss the lobster blog!), by Trevor Corson. It made me hungry.

Now this one is, I guess, pretty non-fictional, if Mr. Corson can be trusted on his lobster facts and the descriptions of the lives and loves of the lobstermen and scientists who obsess over our favorite red bug day and night.

Plot: The typical: boy meets lobster, boy marries lobster, lobster leaves boy for a neurologist, boy writes country song.

What I Learned: Lobsters are just like us, because they like the nasty. Lobsters are not like us because they can breathe under water and females have complete control over the mating ritual.

Hey, Rube

Screw Joe Campbell

OK, that was harsh. But, dammit, Joe and I needed a bit of a break from each other. He was making my head hurt and my chest feel like there was a balloon blowing up inside it (which is a simile, not a metaphor. Why is this relevant? Read on).

So with Myths to Live By safely set aside, and me on an existing 3 day tour through the 410 and the 317, I decided to pick up the curious incident of the dog in the night-time by esteemed Brit Mark Haddon. I had heard about this book back in the ‘03, when you Smart People who got As (the best grade) on your maths A-level probably read it. A fine choice indeed.

Picture a more lucid Benji solving (”detecting”) the mystery of a murdered dog with all of the neato little asides and digressions of Vonnegut’s best work and you will kinda get the drift. The thing I found the most interesting is, being inside the head of this clearly autistic kid (though the lable appears not once in the book), it is clear that the distinct functional differences between the workings of his mind and those of a “normal” person are really quite subtle. Plus, I got to revist quadratic equations and Mrs. Finnan’s turkey neck waddle.

While there ain’t much mystery, all in all, this is an excellent, fast and fascinating read.

Now, back to Joe . . . . . .

Quit Yer Cryin’

OK, OK, OK. I’m here. I’m new to this blogging thing. I’m not even sure this internet thing has legs.

As for the books, I’ve a serious problem,. For my first number I have launched into a tome of psychobabble/pseudo religious comparative philosophy/mythology redux called The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell. Blame the wife. Nonetheless, here we are on day 17 of month 1 of year 1 of my intellectual rebirth and I’m slogging through 2 1/2 pages a night before the drooling begins in earnest. But I will finish. See you in July.

And how in the heck do I get MY picture into this thing for the world to see??