Did C. S. Lewis mean to set That Hideous Strength in the same land as The Lord of the Rings?  Using the name Middle Earth just once is hardly good evidence.  Middle Earth is hardly a name unique to Tolkein.  Mediterranean comes from the Latin for “in the middle of the Earth” and the Chinese name for China is “Middle Country” (though more commonly called the “Middle Kingdom”).  Clearly more evidence is needed, and there is some:

First, C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkein were both members of a literary discussion group known as the Inklings.  We can assume Lewis was familiar with Tolkein’s work.  Of course, this could also just mean that the phrase “Middle Earth” snuck into Lewis’s subconscious and he didn’t intend any connection at all.  But, it’s not just a passing phrase from The Lord of the Rings, it’s mentioned quite a bit.  Lewis being unaware of the coincidence would be like Reagan not knowing about the other Star Wars.

Second, it is possible that Tolkein meant The Lord of the Rings to be a foundation myth, linking the British Empire to its divine ancestors (Aragorn being from a line of men mixed with the immortal elves), similar to myths claiming Greek and Roman heroes as demi-gods.  There’s not a lot of evidence to back this theory up, but the story does fit the form quite well.  If this is what Tolkein intended (or what Lewis thought he did), it would explain why Britain might be called Middle Earth in the Space Trilogy.

Third, in The Lord of the Rings, Sauron is a sort of lesser-god, and the only being of such power that directly interacts with Middle Earth.  The good divinities stay out of it.  In the Space Trilogy, the evil god (presumed to be Lucifer) has cut off Earth’s communication with the good divinities.

Finally, in That Hideous Strength there is an ancient wizard, Merlin who has had some previous interactions with the divine.  Gandalf goes by quite a few names in the Tolkein books: Mithrandir, Olorin, Greybeard, Storm Crow, Greyhame.  Why not one more, Merlin?

Hardly conclusive proof.  Hell, it’s barely anything to go on.  But, the fact that Lewis was probably very familiar with Tolkein’s works means we should be looking for some significance in Lewis’s use of the name Middle Earth.  If anyone has a better theory, I’d like to hear it.

P.S.: Unlike the previous two books of the series, That Hideous Strength doesn’t involve any sort of space travel (and very little of what anyone would today consider Science Fiction), so Gandalf doesn’t actually go in space, as the title of this post suggests.

Jessica, despite being one of the smartest kids in her school and a top athelete, is, as expected, angsty.  Partly because the book opens with her best friend moving to Tennessee, and partly because she’s a teenaged girl and you just can’t write a book about a teenaged girl without her being angsty.  Guess what she’s angsty about.

If you picked her lame friends, lamer parents, school of people who don’t get her, and sexual frustration, you’re right (and you’ve been a kid before).

While the characters aren’t particularly unique and the conflicts have been done before (Catcher in the Rye comes to mind), the writing is delightfully fresh and witty, and some of the characters’ problems are dealt with in interesting, thoughtful ways.  Reading about a teenaged girl’s sexual frustration is a little weird though, and a bit close to the child-pornography line.  Seriously, there’s some stuff about a young girl’s masturbatory tendencies that I really don’t need to read about.

…Without pictures.

At least she’s of legal age in the later books, so it’s a bit less creepy.  And, if you pick up the first book, keep in mind that it was intended to be a series from the start.  Most of the conflicts are left unresolved and are picked up later on.

This is so far the best written chick lit I’ve read, but it’s still not quite a literary masterpiece.  I’m only on the third book of the series (Charmed Thirds, after Second Helpings), and will revisit the series once I’ve completed it (there are currently five books out), but for now: Three stars.

P.S.: McCafferty has a young son.  I wonder how many hours of therapy he’ll need if he reads the series.

Professor Ransom, after wandering around England at night looking for a place to stay, comes across the home of an old classmate, whom he recalls as being a bit of a jackass.  When Ransom shows up, the old classmate and an accomplice are trying to force a local retarded boy into going on a trip in a space ship.  Ransom intervenes, rescues the boy, sends him back home to safety, and then decides to stay and have a nightcap.  Well, I don’t think we can sympathize too much when Dr. Ransom wakes up from being drugged and finds himself on a spaceship headed towards Mars.  I guess philology professors lack street smarts.  Sucks that they’re planning to sacrifice him to appease the local aliens.  Turns out, of course, that the aliens aren’t blood thirsty at all, and this portrayal is just due to white patriarchy’s need to depict other cultures as savage and brutish.  Oh you white devils!

In case it helps, here’s a good way to know you’ll be kidnapped at some point in your life: your name is Ransom.

The basic set up of C. S. Lewis’s universe is interesting though.  Each world is ruled by an angel-like being, similar to the ingelligences that are assigned to guide celestial bodies in Christian mythology.  Earth however, got stuck with an evil being (Lucifer) who has cut off Earth from communication with the other worlds, which is why we’re presently unaware of life on other planets.

The rest is basically what you’d expect from a B-rate daytime SciFi Channel space movie.  Strange creatures, a lot of “did you know we have different cultures?” and an overly preachy, obvious message.  Silent Planet is more description of the fantasy world than the telling of a story set in it.  But, it was the 1930s and the art of science fiction writing was still young and unrefined.  It may have been groundbreaking at the time, but more modern works, such as Dune or I, Robot, blow it away.

The trilogy continues in a trip to Venus in Perelandra and is finished in a showdown on Earth in That Hiddeous Strength.  Spoiler alert: the final battle involves a domesticated bear, an evil cult lead by a disembodied head, and Merlin.  All it’s missing is a talking rat and a donkey dressed up as a lion.

…Mothertrucking Merlin?  Is he kidding?  Throw in some on-the-cheap CGI and this really would be perfect for the SciFi Channel.

I can’t find much redeeming about this book, or the rest of the trilogy, except that you can wow people with useless literary trivia: “Did you know C. S. Lewis wrote a scifi trilogy?”  One star trivia, one star book:

P.S.: Tune in to this Wednesday’s Dumb Lit Facts to find out what other trilogy, by a different author, may share Lewis’s scifi setting.

Fewer people are aware that the movie is based on the 1956 short story by Philip K. Dick.  And even fewer still are aware that the concept of punishing people based on precognition first appeared in fiction 75 years earlier in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There.  In the sequel to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the white chess pieces have a rather unique justice system, based on the the White Queen’s ability to see into the future.  Here, the White Queen has imprisoned Mad Hatter for some unspecified future crime:

“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,” the Queen remarked.

“What sort of things do you remember best?” Alice ventured to ask.

“Oh, things that happened the week after next,” the Queen replied in a careless tone.  “For instance, now,” she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, “there’s the King’s messenger.  He’s in prison now, being punished, and the trial doesn’t even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of all.”

“Suppose he never commits the crime?” said Alice.

“That would be all the better, wouldn’t it?” the Queen said, as she bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.

Of course, there’s a major difference in the Looking-Glass and Minority Report concepts of future law (as it’s sometimes called).  In Minority Report, the precogs are almost always wrong about their predictions.  The visions they have don’t come true.   The police intervene, thus creating a very odd sort of paradox in which people are punished for crimes they didn’t commit.  I suppose noone thought to just charge them with attempted murder and avoid all the problems, but that’s beside the point.

In Looking-Glass though, the crimes do actually happen, because the Queen is not predicting crimes, but rather “remembering” them.  Somehow Carroll has managed to create a less philosophically problematic future law system.

Many law schools have a class on “Law and Literature.”  Looking through several of the syllabi available online reveals what one might expect: Shakespeare, Melville, Dostoyevsky, Kafka, Plato, Sophocles, aka: The Biggies.  I could find none with either Through the Looking-Glass or Minority Report.  It’s almost as though Law and Literature professors are just teaching whatever books were taught when they took the class years ago, just like real literature professors!

P.S.: Like with the transition from book to movie with The Maltese Falcon, the 50 year old fat and balding John Anderton somehow becomes Tom Cruise on the big screen.

1) If the average human life is 72 (let’s ignore gender, race, income, location, etc, just to keep the question simple), how many more years should you expect to live?

2) A test for some disease has a 5% rate of giving false positives (and a 0% chance at a false negative).  The disease occurs in 1 in ever 1000 people, and everyone is tested regardless of whether they show symptoms.  You are tested and the test comes back positive.  What are the odds you have the disease?

(Answers at the end.)  A shockingly high number of people get these questions wrong.  Not just ordinary people, but doctors, statisticians, and other people who really shouldn’t be messing this up.

Fooled by Randomness, The Hidden Role of Chance in Life and in the Markets is not for the feignt of brain.  Taleb explores the role chance plays in our daily lives and in the daily lives of Wall Street traders.  Written in 2004, Fooled by Randomness isn’t just a response to the current financial crisis that looks back on the past with 20-20 vision.  Taleb also isn’t going to give you any advice on what stocks in invest in.

While I found the book extremely fascinating, I’m sure many people won’t.  It’s not just a book on randomness or a book about financial markets.  It’s part economics, part psychology, and part anecdotal story telling.  It’s also part asshole, as Taleb doesn’t come across as the nicest guy to be around, especially with how much he talks about how great he is at embarassing and intimidating people.  (People who brag about such skills typically are insecure about it and not really that good at whatever they claim.  A rich person doesn’t need to tell you he’s rich, a smart person that he’s smart, or a good looking person that he’s good looking.)

I found this book to be not quite as dense as Taleb’s The Black Swan, which deals with pretty much the exact same issues.  There are a lot of interesting stories and anecdotes to keep it moving, but at times it seems like Taleb would rather write drama than write about randomness, or that he just needed something to fill up the pages.  Taleb probably could have gotten all his points across in 50 pages, instead of 260 (not counting end notes and index).

In Fooled by Randomness you’ll learn about the errors in reasoning you make, but unfortunately probably won’t learn what to do about it.  In many examples Taleb shows how people who specialize in avoiding these mistakes professionally end up making them all the time in their personal lives, just like how a celebrity can fly in a personal jet on the way to giving a speech about reducing carbon footprints.

While I enjoyed Fooled by Randomness, it was a bit too scatterbrained and lacking in a conciseness that would make it easily consumed, and I think ease of consumption is a big factor in a book about how to avoid really common (and seriously costly) mistakes.  Three stars:

Answers:

1) Take 72 and substract your age.  You answer should be MORE than that number.  Why?  You’ve survived up to the age you are now, while some people have not.  If you are 50 years old, your odds of making it to 80 are more than someone who is 10 years old.  If you’re 80 your odds of getting to 72 are even better than the 50 year old’s.  Think about that the next time you make a decision regarding your retirement planning.

2) Odds you have the disease are just under 2%.  If we test 1000 people, only 1 will have the disease (and will test positive).  But, with a 5% false positive rate, another 50 people will also test positive, for a total of 51 positive tests.  Odds you’re not a false positive are 1/51, or just under 2%.  Thank God we tend to only see the doctor when we have symptoms (which of course increases the odds that the test is correct and not just a false positive, because a disease is far more common in people with symptoms than the general population).

P.S.: Next time you meet a trader, ask them if they believe in the efficient market theory.  If so, ask them what the hell their job is.

The event was filmed by CSPAN and will air sometime in the future.  I didn’t think to find out when.

It’s unfortunate that with this type of book you don’t need to know much to point out errors, but need to know a whole lot to explain why something is correct.  So, my critique is going to have to be limited to some negative comments:

First, a couple of the “lies” aren’t things that anyone, aside from a few cranks and nutters, have claimed.  The statements would be untrue, sure, but for them to be lies, someone actually has to be claiming it.

7.  Free-market capitalism works best with no regulation and no interference from government.

I doubt anyone really thinks we should dispatch with the FDA, disallow law suits for malfunctioning circular saws, or let anyone with the cash buy a tank.  Not even Reagan thought we needed literally no regulation.  Sure, some people want much less regulation, and the rhetoric is sometimes oversimplified to this degree, but no one really thinks we need zero regulation.  We all want our doctors to have some sort of licensing procedure; we all want exotic security offerings to be subject to anti-fraud regulations.

10. Capitalism works equally well in all industries.

Show me someone who thinks free-market capitalism works well for highways, nuclear energy, the military, or law enforcement, and I’ll show you someone who’s yanking your chain.

79. Hedge funds should remain unregulated, because only sophisticated, knowledgeable investors can invest.

Talbott mentions several times that hedge funds are unregulated.  Not quite the case, and the proof is right there in the name he gives the lie.  If only sophisticated, knowledgeable investors can buy into hedge funds, that’s a regulation.  What Talbott means is that they are not registered and are not reporting to the SEC.  Reasonable minds can argue over whether there should be more or different regulations for hedge funds, but it’s simply inaccurate to say they are unregulated.

86. Excessive regulation is not needed in the financial markets because anyone who is harmed can seek redress in the courts.

Two problems with this one.  First, “excessive” regulation is never needed.  If you think it is needed, you obviously don’t know what “excessive” means.  The amount of regulation we need is, by definition, not excessive, it’s appropriate.  No one thinks appropriate regulation is unnecessary.  Second, I’ve yet to even hear of anyone who thinks the courts always provide adequate remedies.

I also had some issues with two comments Talbott made during his talk.

The first is that you won’t see anti-corporate messages out in mainstream media, because the media are owned by big corporations.  Well, Barnes and Noble has almost 800 stores in the country, employs 40,000 people and has an annual income over 5 billion dollars.  It’s a pretty big corporation and certainly could choose to not let Talbott talk, but I just don’t think most big corporations are going to edit media content to that degree.  Viacom isn’t going to pull the plug on Jon Stewart even if he openly criticizes Viacom.

I think the explanation for why is pretty simple: Jon Stewart brings in more money than would be lost by even the most radical of messages he could deliver.  Same thing with Barnes and Noble not just stocking Talbott’s book, but inviting him to talk in their stores.  So long as a message is popular enough to be profitable, companies will put it out there, even if the message is critical of the company.

Talbott also lays much of the blame for our current problems at the feet of high-powered Washington lobbyists.  I had the opportunity to ask him if it was unfair to place so much blame on lobbyists, when at the end of the day none of them get a vote.  I was not impressed with his answer: that lobbyists (and their massive corporate bankrolls) have too strong a hold on politicians for them to resist, and too much an influence in elections for us to vote out the bums who won’t stand up to them.

Well, if a lobbyist offered a senator millions of dollars to rob an innocent old lady would we say there’s no way the senator could possibly resist?  Hell no, we’d vote the bum out of office.*  We’ve done so for far smaller transgressions.  To quote the Godfather, “I believe in America.”  The day horse heads show up in congressional beds is the day we can say it’s alright for them to cave.  Until then we should have higher standards for our leaders.  I’m not saying the lobbyists aren’t also to blame, but that much of the blame must also be placed on the people actually passing (or not passing) regulations, and on the voters who don’t do something about it.

*Unless that bum is a Kennedy.

P.S.: The biggest lie on Wall Street is the shrimp cocktail at Ulysses.  $10 for 4 medium shrimp?  Bollocks!

Welcome to the first in a series of weekly literary trivia, tidbits, and useless factoids.  A lot of people have either seen or read The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett, but I think even more probably just recognize the name as one of those classics they’re supposed to be embarrassed about being unfamiliar with.

The novel opens with a physical description of the protagonist, Sam Spade:

“Samuel Spade’s jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth.  His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller v.  His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal.  The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grew down–from high flat temples–in a point on his forehead.  He looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan.”

Sam is played by Humphrey Bogart.  The resemblance is extraordinarily lacking.  But, that’s Hollywood.  There isn’t an endless supply of actors with v-themed faces running around, and Bogart does a fantastic job in the movie.

Well, I don’t read any of those authors.  But, that’s why there’s a difference between “if” and “only if.”  With a name like The Dirty Secrets Club, the book had better deliver, and it does.

San Francisco is plagued with a string of high profile, intensely bizarre suicides, such as a popular fashion designer killing his lover and setting himself on fire, or a U.S. attorney driving off a bridge, killing herself and a number of others.  So how does the SFPD respond?

Well, normally there wouldn’t be much of a response at all.  The perp is dead.  You can have serial murderers, but not serial murder-suiciders.  That’s sort of a one shot deal.

But, when all the deaths become linked to the mysterious Dirty Secrets Club, they do what any good police department would do, they call in a forensic psychologist!  Why not?  Enter Jo Beckett, a specialist in creating psychological profiles of the dead to answer just why they ended up that way.

How convenient for her that there’s suddenly a practical use for her job.  I bet it was getting tough to pay the bills.  But, it’s well worth accepting the fantasy element and suspending disbelief to get drawn into the fantastically original thrillride Gardiner has created.

Before writing, Gardiner was a lawyer in a small commercial litigation firm, and then taught legal writing at Stanford.  She has had a successful writing career in the UK, but only more recently got her break in the US.  The story goes like this: Stephen King was going on a trip and wanted a book to read on the plane, so Penguin sent him a box of some of their new releases, and he picked up one of Gardiner’s novels and was instantly hooked.  But why did he choose hers in the first place, out of so many other choices, any number of which were probably quite excellent?  To what does Meg Gardiner owe this lucky break?

The font was easier to read.

Yeup, that’s what got her the endorsement of one of the world’s most popular writers.

But, in any font, The Dirty Secrets Club is a winner.  I’m giving it four stars:

P.S.  I met Meg Gardiner at an event at the Tribeca Barnes and Noble.  She noticed that something about me seemed sad and lifeless.  I told her I was there taking a break from studying for the bar exam.  It’s almost as if she could sense it.

There’s some hippies, and witches and shit.  And of course, some really awkward sexing.

This isn’t Palahniuk’s best work.  Repetition is a common theme in his novels, such as repeating paragraphs used earlier in the book, or having a character go to support group meetings for conditions he doesn’t have in both Fight Club and Choke.  In Lullaby, Palahniuk has a line about how laugh tracks were all recorded so long ago that almost everyone you hear in them is probably dead now.  I know I’ve seen him use that before.

Get some new material, please.  Or a better editor who will catch this type of thing.

Lullaby has some very good moments, and the premise is solid.  Solid enough to have carried a much better book.  Instead of offering an ending that pulls everything together, this one just falls apart, and not in a meaningful way.  It really felt like Palahniuk was just getting lazy.

If you haven’t read Fight Club, skip Lullaby and start there.  If you’ve already read Fight Club, I’d suggest reading it again before picking up this one.

But, it could have been a lot worse.  Two stars:

P.S. The culling song, coming out of African tradition, would probably have been passed down orally.  I’ll let you figure out the problem there.