Khan’s story is a three-decade-long cloak-and-dagger saga, one that jumps from Washington, Amsterdam and Johannesburg to Islamabad, Tehran and Timbuktu and drags in corrupt Pakstani generals, unscrupulous European businessmen and dissembling American diplomats. It’s no surprise that there has been a cascade of books on Khan in recent years. But the three newest — “The Nuclear Jihadist” by Douglas Frantz (a former L.A. Times managing editor) and Catherine Collins, “Deception” by Adrian Levy and Catherine Scott-Clark and “America and the Islamic Bomb” by David Armstrong and Joseph Trento — drive home the point that Khan is not the real story here. More important is how and why he was able to flout the nuclear nonproliferation regime for so many years, “ushering in,” as Frantz and Collins put it, “the second nuclear age.” Jonathan Schell, in his new book “The Seventh Decade,” calls this the era of “nuclear anarchy.”
more from the LA Times here.
It is probably the most negative book review ever written. Or if there is a worse one, do let me know. “This book runs the full gamut from the mediocre to the ludicrous to the merely bad,” begins Colin McGinn’s review of On Consciousness by Ted Honderich. “It is painful to read, poorly thought out, and uninformed. It is also radically inconsistent.”
The ending isn’t much better: “Is there anything of merit in On Consciousness? Honderich does occasionally show glimmers of understanding that the problem of consciousness is difficult and that most of our ideas about it fall short of the mark. His instincts, at least, are not always wrong. It is a pity that his own efforts here are so shoddy, inept, and disastrous (to use a term he is fond of applying to the views of others).”
And in the middle, there is nothing to cheer the book’s author. Honderich’s book is, according to McGinn, sly, woefully uninformed, preposterous, easily refuted, unsophisticated, uncomprehending, banal, pointless, excruciating.
more from The Guardian here.
From The Tris McCall Report:
Snoop Dogg — “Sensual Seduction”
Ignore the title, that’s just the radio-approved handle; real fans and bootleggers know it as “Sexual Explosion”. This is Snoop‘s long-awaited tribute to Zapp, which means he’s run his entire vocal through a talkbox. Poppin’, to be sure, but nine out of ten casual listeners will miss the reference and mistake this for yet another digitized T-Pain performance. (Is that the secret to the popularity of the pitch-corrected sound, I wonder?; that it reminds us of Zapp, the Mothership, and the funky vocoder?) Arguably, “More Bounce To The Ounce” and “Computer Love” were the two primary sources for the g-funk sound, and as Nasir the Fussy Archivist pointed out on Hip-Hop Is Dead, Roger Troutman’s name is barely remembered these days. Snoop does his best to resurrect it here, and in the process, he’s given the Westside something new to low-ride to. It’s a neat novelty, but to be honest, when he breaks convention midway through the track and begins to rap, it feels like a happy homecoming.
More here. [Thanks to Asad Raza.]
From The Times:
China, Dubai, Moscow or Kazakhstan apart, there’s a shift among many young architects away from flash, if lucrative, bling buildings and towards, what? The uniconic? The spiritual leader of this not-quite-movement, Swiss architect Peter Zumthor, calls it slow architecture. Like slow food, this is about local produce that tastes good. It’s about that hard-to-define idea, integrity. Architecturally, it means back to basics building: providing beautiful shelter, addressing human needs with architecture which has longevity and presence, undeniably modern but also showing the mark of human hand. Its response to the bombast, fakery and crash-bang-wallop of globalisation is radical in its reactionariness.
In this year’s runners and riders in the AR Awards, for instance, you’ll find not skyscrapers and bling, but a beigel-shaped kindergarten in Tokyo with a huge rooftop playground, Madrid’s beautiful memorial to 2004’s Al Qaida bombings, a low-cost school for South Africa. This is tactile architecture, architecture that speaks of its social, environmental and spiritual obligations.
More here. (For Jaffer).
David Leavitt in The New York Times:
“Henry James: The Mature Master” by Sheldon M. Novick strives to supplant the common view of James as “a passive, fearful man, a detached observer of the life around him” with one of the writer as a gregarious, sometimes heroic, often troubled citizen of the world. Far from a sniffy celibate living comfortably on independent means or a “little boy with his nose pressed against the glass of a shop window,” Novick’s James was an authentic cosmopolite who led a life as emotionally, sexually and financially complex as those of the characters in his fiction.
Does Novick succeed in giving us a new, more “ordinary,” less cerebral Henry James? The answer, for better or worse, is yes. Indeed, the life that he describes (“The Mature Master” begins with the successful 1881 publication of “The Portrait of a Lady” and ends with James’s death in 1916) is one that, for any urban writer, will seem eerily, even tiresomely familiar. Passionately devoted to his craft, James is also burdened by the constant pressure to make money. He suffers from back pain and constipation, and often feels overwhelmed by the amount of writing he has to do: in addition to the novels, many of them published in serial form, there are the short stories, travel articles, reviews and “potboilers” from which he earns his living, not to mention the correspondence with which he feels dutybound to keep up.
More here.
Hitchens in The Weekly Standard:
“How’s your drink?” was, apparently, the cordial question asked of his guests by Frank Sinatra, who didn’t like to think of anyone going short. “How’s your glass?” was the equivalent question (and, later, book title) in the case of Kingsley Amis, whose domestic strategy later boiled down to telling his more favored friends that if they didn’t have a full drink in their hands, it was their own bloody fault for not refilling without waiting to be asked.
That book was actually a quiz book, in which you could be asked “From what does Scotch receive its color?” or “What happens to a vintage port before and after bottling?” The answers were helpfully included at the end, often with a cheery wealth of extra detail, so the volume doubled as a guide and general adviser as well. But Amis also wrote two other drinkers-companion efforts, entitled Every Day Drinking and On Drink. (Interest declared: All these will soon be reissued in a handy single volume by Bloomsbury, with an introduction by your humble servant.)
Eric Felten doesn’t write as well as Kingsley Amis, which is no disgrace (he is a jazz musician, an occupation for which Amis had a high regard) but he does have a feel for literature as it relates to booze, and he has been out there on our behalf and done an awful lot of homework. His book, which is a distillation, if I may put it like that, of his celebrated Wall Street Journal column of the same name, is by far the wittiest and the most comprehensive study of the subject since the author of Lucky Jim laid down his pen.
More here.
Hugo Lindgren in the New York Times Book Review:
The comics collected in this book range fairly far and wide, but the strong center of gravity is plaintive tales of everyday life, set in the present, and usually about the social groups that comic artists themselves belong to. The appeal of such work is its emotional directness — in this age of highly branded, executive-produced cultural output, comics promise a more resonant and unadulterated link between creator and reader.
When the connection works, the reading experience can be deeply satisfying. Consider the excerpt here from Alison Bechdel’s “Fun Home.” Even if you’re not too familiar with comics, you may know of Bechdel. In a watershed moment for the entire field, this graphic-novel autobiography was chosen as the best book of 2006 by Time magazine. As stories go, there’s little unusual about “Fun Home”: it’s about a lonely girl in a small town, trying to come to terms with secrets her family kept by, in part, learning to write and draw. But it’s wonderfully executed. With terse prose and fluid shifts in scale and perspective, Bechdel puts adolescence in its pure form right on the page — the jagged feelings of inadequacy, the growing sense of distance from others, the slow realization that life is difficult and thorny and that you have to figure out some way to help yourself because nobody else is going to. Bechdel conveys all this without ever seeming maudlin or self-pitying. She’s also really funny.
More here.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Mark Fenn looks at a Thai worker-owned cooperative brothel, in the Asia Sentinel:
When the words “bar” and “sex” are put together in Thailand, one doesn’t usually think about progressive labor relations or stuff like profit sharing. But in at least one small corner of the country’s huge sex industry, a few women are trying to get a better deal for themselves out of giving pleasure for money.
At the small Can Do bar in the northern city of Chiang Mai, sex workers are using their brains as well as their bodies in an experiment aimed at tackling exploitation. The bar is owned and managed by a collective of women from the Empower Foundation, a support group for sex workers known for its “sex positive” stance on prostitution.
The country’s first so called experitainment bar aims to provide working girls with a safe and fair working environment.
The bar, which complies fully with Thai labor laws, has just celebrated its first birthday and is proving successful on both “a political and an economic level,” said Liz Hilton, who works with Empower. The bar has won acceptance, Hilton says, for providing decent working conditions for the women who work there.
Phil Berardelli in ScienceNOW Daily News:
Even though orbiters have eyed it from space and landers have rumbled across its surface, Mars still has more secrets to reveal. Two findings emerged this week: the possibility of a n active glacier far from the planet’s poles and evidence that sulfur–not carbon–was the element driving the planet’s warmer climate long ago. Both discoveries could force some rethinking about martian evolution and dynamics–and maybe even provide insights about Earth’s past.
The glacier discovery was announced Wednesday by the European Space Agency (ESA). A high-resolution stereo camera aboard ESA’s Mars Express spacecraft spotted the feature in a region called Deuteronilus Mensae, located in the mid-north latitudes of the planet. The Mars Express science team drew the preliminary conclusion that the material in the feature is water ice and that it accumulated as recently as 10,000 years ago, probably from an underground source. Other deposits of water ice have been mapped at the martian poles, but they’re much bigger and are millions of years old. The find is a surprise because the prevailing view is that any water reaching the martian surface from underground quickly evaporates and eventually drifts into space. Yet all of the physical characteristics of the feature are “consistent with that of a glacier,” says geologist and team member Ronald Greeley of Arizona State University in Tempe.
Oover at Project Syndicate (via Political Theory Daily Review):
Critics of the Stern Review don’t think serious action to limit CO2 emissions is justified, because there remains substantial uncertainty about the extent of the costs of global climate change, and because these costs will be incurred far in the future. However, I believe that Stern’s fundamental conclusion is justified: we are much better off reducing CO2 emissions substantially than risking the consequences of failing to act, even if, unlike Stern, one heavily discounts uncertainty and the future.
Two factors differentiate global climate change from other environmental problems. First, whereas most environmental insults – for example, water pollution, acid rain, or sulfur dioxide emissions – are mitigated promptly or in fairly short order when the source is cleaned up, emissions of CO2 and other trace gases remain in the atmosphere for centuries. So reducing emissions today is very valuable to humanity in the distant future.
Second, the externality is truly global in scale, because greenhouse gases travel around the world in a few days. As a result, the nation-state and its subsidiaries, the typical loci for internalizing externalities, are limited in their remedial capacity. (However, since the United States contributes about 25% of the world’s CO2 emissions, its own policy could make a large difference.)
Thus, global climate change is a public good (bad) par excellence.
Tucked in among the many gems—culinary, historical, literary, religious, and otherwise—stashed throughout Gillian Riley’s new Oxford Companion to Italian Food is “The Pope’s Kitchen,” a luscious, whimsical sonnet by the nineteenth-century Roman poet Gioachino Giuseppe Belli, which I cannot bear to include here in anything but its entirety:
The cook wanted to show me,
this morning, all the stuff he bought
for the most holy kitchen. Kitchen?
Some kitchen! You’d think it was a sea-port.
Piles of things, pots and pans and cauldrons,
haunches of veal and beef,
chickens, eggs, milk, fish, veg, pork,
game and all kinds of choice cuts.
So I says: “Your Holy Father does himself all right!”
He says: “You’ve not seen the sideboard,
where praise be there’s as much again.”
I says: “Pardon me, mate!
There must be someone grand for dinner then?”
“Come off it,” he says, “the Pope always eats on his own.”
more from Bookforum here.
From the Spring 1940 issue of The Scholar
So far, then, the archetypal romantic would be a pragmatist and pluralist, and so he actually was in earthly things. Spiritually, the human desire for a transcendent resolution found satisfaction in a many-sided religious revival. It was Catholic, Protestant, pantheistic, mystical and materialistic by turns, and passionate through and through. Like Lucretius, the materialists loved their universe of matter, and compared with them the classical Deists were palely Stoical. The pantheists, idealists and transcendentalists, far from deadening nature into uniformity, throve on inconsistencies for the sake of which they were prepared to find hidden compensations. The Neo-Catholics fed their artistic impulse as they worshipped, and merged the romantic sense of misery with the Christian doctrine of original sin. And all of them, including the new disciples of Oriental philosophies, recognized as basic the romantic (as well as Christian and democratic) notion of the equal worth of every living soul. Romanticism was full of disbelievers in every kind of creed, but it numbered hardly a single unbeliever. Fervor in search for God the Infinite was the complement of despair; and given man’s greatness as a thinking reed willing to wager his soul, man could find the light shining through the works of nature and her poets, through the geometry of Spinoza or through the counterpoint of Bach.
more from The American Scholar here.
On the morning of July 8, 1980, Raymond Carver wrote an impassioned letter to Gordon Lish, his friend and editor at Alfred A. Knopf, begging his forgiveness but insisting that Lish “stop production” of Carver’s forthcoming collection of stories, “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” Carver had been up all night reviewing Lish’s severe editorial cuts––two stories had been slashed by nearly seventy per cent, many by almost half; many descriptions and digressions were gone; endings had been truncated or rewritten––and he was unnerved to the point of desperation. A recovering alcoholic and a fragile spirit, Carver wrote that he was “confused, tired, paranoid, and afraid.” He feared exposure before his friends, who had read many of the stories in their earlier versions. If the book went forward, he said, he feared he might never write again; if he stopped it, he feared losing Lish’s love and friendship. And he feared, above all, a return to “those dark days,” not long before, when he was broken, defeated. “I’ll tell you the truth, my very sanity is on the line here,” he wrote to Lish.
more from The New Yorker here, with the original letters between Lish and Carver here, Lish’s edited version of “Beginners” here, and Carver’s original version here.
Dana Stevens in Slate:
Tom Hanks plays “Good Time” Charlie Wilson, a go-along-to-get-along Democratic congressman from a rural district in Texas. A hard-drinking womanizer with a sharp eye for foreign affairs, Charlie sits on the congressional committee responsible for funding covert military actions abroad. One debauched evening in 1980, soaking in a Vegas hot tub with a gaggle of coke-snorting strippers, he watches Dan Rather on TV covering the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Soon after, a fervently anti-Communist Houston socialite, Joanne Herring (Julia Roberts), invites Charlie to a fund-raiser for the cause of the mujahideen. The two skip out of the party for some (off-screen) Texas lovin’, and by way of pillow talk, Joanne convinces Charlie to take a meeting she’s arranged with the president of Pakistan, Zia ul-Haq (Om Puri).
Converted to the freedom fighters’ cause—or maybe just in love with the idea of bringing down the Red Army on his own—Charlie mobilizes a clandestine campaign to funnel resources and weapons to the Afghan rebels. With one well-placed phone call, he manages to double the appropriations budget, but even $10 million is a paltry sum when it comes to shooting down Soviet helicopters.
More here.
From Scientific American:
A couple of million years ago or so, our hominid ancestors began exchanging their lowbrow looks for forehead prominence. The trigger for the large, calorie-hungry brains of ours is cooking, argues Richard W. Wrangham, the Ruth B. Moore Professor of Biological Anthropology at Harvard University’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. He hit on his theory after decades of study of our closest cousin, the chimpanzee. For the Insights story “Cooking Bigger Brains,” appearing in the January 2008 Scientific American, Rachael Moeller Gorman talked with Wrangham about chimps, food, fire, human evolution and the evidence for his controversial theory. Here is an expanded interview.
More here.
From Science:
The breakthrough of this year has to do with humans, genomes, and genetics. But it is not about THE human genome (as if there were only one!). Instead, it is about your particular genome, or mine, and what it can tell us about our backgrounds and the quality of our futures. A number of studies in the past year have led to a new appreciation of human genetic diversity. As soon as genomes are looked at individually, important differences appear: Different single-nucleotide polymorphisms are scattered throughout, and singular combinations of particular genes forming haplotypes emerge. A flood of scans for these variations across the genome has pointed to genes involved in behavioral traits as well as to those that may foretell deferred disease liability. And more extensive structural variations, such as additions, deletions, repeat sequences, and stretches of “backwards” DNA, turn out to be more prevalent than had been recognized. These too are increasingly being associated with disease risks.
High-throughput sequencing techniques are bringing the cost of genomics down. The few “celebrity genomes” (e.g., Watson’s and Venter’s) will soon be followed by others, we hope in an order not determined by wealth but by scientific need or personal medical circumstance. Our natural interest in personal genealogy, accompanied by worries about our health, will create an incentive structure that even now is creating a sometimes dubious niche market for having one’s genome “done.”
More here.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Edmonton
From the plane into Edmonton International, I could see the city to the north, this treasure chest metropolis sprung up in the middle of nowhere. I was flying in with a four-year plan. Big skies, big bucks, live simple, get out. A job with Sirius Gas. Maybe you know it. A little travel, not much. Calgary mostly. Fort McMurray. Basically a desk operation downtown paying two and a half times what I was worth. I liked the people. I find it refreshing working with straight arrows. The problem was, at the end of the day they went home to their families in suburbs called Spruce Grove or Sherwood Park and I went back to my bachelor suite on Sask Drive. Not that my building didn’t live up to its motto: A Nice Place for Nice People. I’ll fit right in, I thought. That was before I got so lonely I was ready to slit my wrists. Before a madman became my best friend. Before I found out how good a pretty blonde can look in a strap-on.
more from The Walrus here.
This exhibition of late paintings of Jules Olitski, who died earlier this year at age 84, is subtitled “A Celebration” — an apt name for such festive and colorful paintings. But these works equally bring to mind volcanic eruptions or intergalactic collisions. Worked with impasto so intense that the encrusted surfaces appear to belong as much to bas relief as to paint on canvas, they emulate geological formation both in physical fact and suggested scenes. Even if the world ends with a whimper, Jules Olitski departed with a bang.
The subtitle is also apropos for a gentle giant of an abstractionist who adopted as his personal, anti-entitlement motto: “expect nothing, do your work, and celebrate.” “Bathsheba Reverie — Yellow and Black” (2001), like all works here in acrylic paint on canvas, has at its base a disintegrating orb in fiery yellow, which dominates the composition, and is cracking, seemingly under the sheer weight of its drying pigment. It inhabits a rich but ambiguous pocket of space that is itself contained by a monochrome purple ground just spied around its edges. Roughly an oval shape, this space looks like a puddle still in formation, perhaps about to submerge the entirety of the purple ground: Lush and painterly, it has an atmospheric quality that recalls a sky by Constable or Turner.
more from the NY Sun here.
