We are living in a culture of fear. We have fetishized our fears, trepidations and anxieties to such a monstrous degree they have consumed us. Fear eliminates options. Fear stifles creativity. Fear paralyzes. Fear poisons. Fear murders the reasoned ability to act. Our fear thrusts us into one of two courses of action: fight or flight. And when our fears encompass the painful consequences of fighting, we are left with one choice—which is not a choice at all. We run.
Fear is a compelling motivator. And fear is not necessarily an irrational response to certain stimuli. When faced with very real danger, fear reminds us—sometimes not so gently—that there is a preferable alternative. In that respect fear is a good thing. Arbitrary death and injuries—be they physical, mental, emotional, financial or familial—are wasteful tragedies. They should be avoided—prevented if possible.
But our culture has transcended this simple approach to danger. And in so doing has made us more isolated, less tolerant, more prone to selfish bouts of anger, rage and conflict. Perhaps these are fleeting reactions to a perceived lack of control over our own destinies. That saddens me.
James McManus writes about sex, drugs, murder, Amarillo Slim, the history of cards, and the psychology of gambling. He does all of this using the vocabulary of no-limit Texas hold’em. Mick recommended this non-fiction book to me; I am quite grateful that he did. It does not hurt any that he is a White Sox fan— McManus, that is. Mick is a Cubs fan. I do not hold that against him.
A collection of first person accounts of backpacking through Europe. It has been fifteen years since my poor treks through southern and central Europe. This book takes me back to that time. I forged friendships through a multi-language political debate on a nighttime ferry crossing of the Aegean during the Perseid meteor shower– among many other fond and whimsical adventures.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s Nobel Prize winning novel is this spring’s selection for the Chicago Public Library’s “One Book, One Chicago” program. Fierce, uncompromising and haunting– a relentless indictment of political oppression.
“You shouldn’t read it if you cannot take a punch.” – Ernest Hemingway on Nelson Algren’s writing. This twelve thousand word prose poem is Chicago’s magnum opus.
Dan Brown’s thriller marries an international murder to curious esoteria culled from centuries of Western history. It reminds me of Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum— in that this is precisely the sort of book Eco satirized so well. Promise me you will remember it is a common work of fiction.
Part Two of Dan Simmons’ literary diptych: start with the recipe for Ilium, but bake for 704 pages to higher degree of literary allusion. Garnish with Virgil and serve with a nice novel of later Heinlein.
Part One of Dan Simmons’ literary diptych: mix one part Homer with one part Shakespeare and one part Proust in a bowl of high-concept speculative fiction– add a dash of Nabokov to taste.
Beta|Erinyes 