Feral

This book, an extended study on rewilding by veteran environmental activist and journalist George Monbiot, was, even moreso than are most of his books, eye-opening and incredible. I was lucky enough to pick up a pre-release signed copy at a SPERI lecture he gave at my uni last year, browsed through a couple of chapters over summer, and have finished it in a spurt of ecological interest over the last few days.

   It's about our misjudged place in nature: how this has been lost over the past few millennia of human civilisation gradually conquering and flattening the ecosystems it moves into; how this has been forgotten over the enforced retention* of systems that prevent those ecosystems from properly recovering; how this has been distorted by vast industrial processes reaping finite natural stocks and processes as though they were limitless income. Running common to these scenes of destruction and degradation are veins of hope and potential - rewilding, the main topic of the book. Rewilding is basically handing over control of ecosystems to nature; reintroducing missing species that play key ecological roles of predation, habitat manipulation, resource creation and such, helps revitalise the balanced diversity of flora and fauna in those systems.**

   The text resembles a sort of ecosystem of prose in itself: a jumbledly overlapping yet coherent and cogent mix of writing. There are impeccably-researched-and-referenced scrutinies of ecosystem development policy successes and failures, insightful discourses on biological and philosophical perspectives of man's place and part in nature, and enthralling anecdotes of George's personal experiences with people, plants, animals, landscapes that have helped inform and shape his perspectives. You will be bowled over by gorgeous descriptions of sublime natural explorations and encounters, wholeheartedly inspired by introductions to selfless hippy-type individuals involved in rewilding projects, shunted into enlightenment by a chunk of analysis and into astonished outrage or delight by a series of statistics or facts, often all within a page or two of each other. It really is a bizarrely multitudinous reading experience, and make so much the better for it. It strikes the head, the heart and the gut with equal measure, never supplanting reason for emotion but finding the root human passions that lie at the base of all his arguments and laying them together perfectly.

   It's a book that makes one want to re-engage with nature, to do all within one's power to remove human corruption from the ecosystems it has enslaved and despoilt, to hand control back to Mother Gaia. Anyone interested in ecology should read it for enjoyment, anyone interested in social and natural justice should read it to inform their opinions, most people should probably read it to broaden their anthropocentric worldviews and bring about pressure for change. Quality, timely, and deeply important.

* This book might make you rightly despise grouse hunters, fishing trawlers, and especially sheep.

** This book might make you rightly adore beavers, oysters, wolves and dead trees.

Is God anti-gay?

This book, a concise 80-page response to the controversial topics of homosexuality and Christianity by Sam Allberry, was roughly what I expected it would be. It was on a discount bookstall on a christian weekend away (I never can resist those discount bookstalls, but fortunately this time I only bought one book - this - so my wallet remained unbattered), and given its shortness I ran away from one of the ludicrously christian-weekend-away-esque sessions of organised "fun" and read it in a prolonged tea-fuelled sitting.

   Sam's book claims to answer its provocative titular question,* among other questions about homosexuality, the Bible and same-sex attraction. It does so quite well; the author identifies himself as experiencing SSA so clearly he is able to approach the issue in a thoughtful and sensitive way, avoiding the patronising, homophobic assumptiveness which often characterises christian viewpoints on issues of sexuality and gender. His points are strongly-reasoned, biblically grounded and gospel-centred, and though I half-wanted to I couldn't find anything that I disagreed with on theological grounds. His conclusions are positive (the chapter on how we construct our identities is particularly liberating), but one would have to subscribe to christianity to think so - which is where I think the book falls short. It is mainly aimed at christians: both those "struggling" with their sexuality to reaffirm the gospel to their context, and those who need their views on how to deal with the topic more sensitively while retaining a biblical grounding for it. Given these aims I think it's an excellent little resource. Obviously no 80-page book is going to revolutionise christian views on homosexuality, but if accessible enough one may ease the psychological and emotional distress of gay christians, and push other christians into dealing with them in a more reasoned, human, loving way - and I think this book may well do that.

   Returning to its shortfalls, I would've liked more discussion of mission to non-christians and homosexuality. There are many deep issues in how non-christians are to percieve God's commands in relation to the gospel and their [un]acceptance of it, and therefore how christians are to talk to them or relate to their lifestyles. Westborough Baptist-style public condemning of homosexuals who don't know Jesus is utterly useless, unfounded, even evil; it excludes them hatefully and prevents them from ever wanting to know more of the "gospel" that such "christian" groups proclaim. I also would've liked a more critical assessment of some of the biblical passages: fair enough they were already exposited very tactfully and with substantial contextual explanation, but surely a more in-depth analysis or consideration of normative aspects of language, culture, sexual psychology and such and how they might change the way we approach such passages could have shed light on the possibility of some different conclusions. It's only a short book though, so avoiding these deep bogs of meta-ethical and postmodernist-historical argument was probably wise.

   Overall, it's a decent book. If you're a christian who thinks they might not be entirely hetero, this book will assuage some doubts you might be having. If you're a christian whose views on issues of sexuality are lacking, this book will help bring you into a more thoughtful and tactful way to talk about them. If you're a non-christian, this book will probably offend you because its fundamental premise is Gospel-as-core-identity rather than sexuality-as-core-identity: so in the interests of me, a liberal freethinking christian, not wanting you to be put off the gospel by a book you approached with the wrong mindset, I only recommend reading it if you do so understanding that it is aimed at christian readers and certain aspects may grate.

* SPOILER ALERT: no.

The Humans

This book, a contemporary novel by Matt Haig, was entirely different to and better than what I expected. I received it as a 21st birthday present roughly a week ago and have devoured it already (it elbowed aside the other nine books I'm partway through by dint of being more engrossing), finally finishing it on the train to and from Manchester last night. I was expecting it to be a fairly standard funny-sharp-interesting read, but it had a completely unforeseen depth and strength which made it an enormously resonant experience. I guess one has to admit certain aspects of it make it indisputably a sci-fi but its core is a thoroughly feels-heavy drama.

   What's it about? Yikes. So, without giving too much of the plot away... There's a race of hyperintelligent aliens, who have achieved immortality and live in a perfectly logical utilitarian civilisation across the galaxy. They have reduced universal functions of all fields of knowledge - psychology, history, physics, whatever - into mathematics, which forms the basis of their mindset, and the means by which they assess goings-on around the universe, intervening whenever inefficiencies arise. An inefficiency arises: human mathematician Professor Andrew Martin proving the Riemann hypothesis, which has the potential to thrust humanity into a new epoch of technological capability, and humans are not psychologically well-equipped enough to deal with their explosively broadened potential, so the aliens intervene. Martin is killed, his physical form copied exactly and adopted by an alien agent (our compelling nameless narrator), whose purpose is then to remove all trace of the hypothesis's proof from Earth. This mission will entail deleting a few emails and killing a few people, including Martin's wife and son. However, the agent encounters steep learning curves: learning his way around human language and culture, learning his way around Andrew Martin's life, and learning his way around the emotional illogical aspects of humanity that are utterly alien to him. The first of these learning curves he overcomes quickly, albeit with some amusingly painful scenes toward the beginning. The second he blags largely, realising several aspects of the life of the man he's living in were not quite satisfactory (a depressed son, a neglected wife, an ill dog, a lack of appreciation for anything beautiful outside his work, an affair, no real friends, etc) and so in his stranger's assessment of them he makes fundamental character changes to "Andrew Martin" which throws up a variety of personal dramas. The third forms the central thread of the novel, heavily intertwined with the alien's learning to relate to Martin's wife and son, as he begins to experience feeling and see significance separate from blunt logic, even starting to question himself and his mission. All three pull together well, and the weirdness of the events befalling the human characters isn't clouded over by sentiment but are dealt with in ways that feel believable, driving up to a very hard-earned reward at the end.

   To pull off such a deep-relationship-feeling theme with such a weird-science-fiction premise is an undertaking of immense skill and sapience, and Matt Haig has done it pretty much bang on. The narration is as confusedly translucent as one would expect from a hyperintelligent being stuck learning his way about a human life; the dialogue feels natural and the characters are well-drawn; there is a rawness to the emotional aspects that is geniunely heart-tugging at points; and there is wisdom in spades. Not the motivational-poster contemporary-novel apothegms of it that we're so often hit with nowadays, but fully poignant nuggets of reasoned insightful wisdom that sound like exactly the kinds of things a hyperintelligent alien being would come out with once it had started reading Emily Dickinson and grown the ability to love.

   I'd like to go into detail with things it made me think about, but there were far too many, so expansive is the book's coverage of topics and yet contained its themes. Science and space and aliens, dogs' relationship to humans, technology's relationship to biology, peanut butter sandwiches, why poetry and music and wine are worth it, why clothes might not be and suicide certainly not so, fatherhood and matrimony and fidelity and the indefinable strings of semi-rationality that bind them in what we call "love", the links between logic and duty and emotion and how we define rightness based on them, how all subjects are effectively mathematics except the most important one which is living happily. There is much to provoke thought in this novel. 

   It's a very memorable book, written with equally warm intensity of head and heart and soul, very alien aspects melded into very human parts in an impressive and engaging character development. Even if sci-fi or drama isn't your thing, I recommend checking it out.

Generous Justice

This book, yep, another one by Tim Keller (what can I say? he writes excellent books), was also great. I think it's probably one of the most important christian books currently in existence. I'd kind of skim-read it a couple of years ago, but recently we've been trying to get more christian students at Sheffield uni involved with social justice campaigns, and so I reread it more thoroughly to refresh my theological motivation for Jesus-style activism. Having just finished it I feel very convicted and challenged and encouraged and joyously grateful for God's grace and goodness, so I guess that implies that to that end my rereading the book worked somewhat. We'll see over the coming months and years how truly I stick my life to it though (hopefully very). I'm also doing a philosophy module this semester about moral obligation, and christian ethics has a lot of interesting stuff to say on the matter (not least from everyone's favourite Danish existentialist with an "ø" in his name).

   The book itself is easy to explain. It's an instrument for kickstarting christians who aren't actively concerned with justice, and spurring onward those who are. Strong biblical foundations (from both old and new testaments) and theological bases are laid for a vision of justice that we should be striving toward. The reasons why we should be striving as such are given with Keller's usual calm clarity that drives home enormous truths warmly, comprehensibly, and in a way which forces you to reassess your attitudes and habits. Methods in which we could strive as such are explained broadly but helpfully. Powerful challenges are drilled down through the question of "who is my neighbour" through and extended analysis of the Good Samaritan, and powerful encouragements similarly offered through consideration of God's intentions, plans and character.
   We are to care about justice as Jesus did: serving and embracing and loving the marginalised poor. Doing so, argues Keller compellingly, is the true mark of the Spirit's work in one's heart.
   My reception, as a relatively-left-wing ethically-concerned liberal young christian aspiring-economist-and-philosopher, was as you may predict wholeheartedly positive. I don't think there was anything in the entire book which I disagreed with in any meaningful way (there was a certain aspect I thought maybe could have been good but I'll discuss later why I think its exclusion was probably a good thing). I sincerely hope and pray that this book is read and absorbed extremely widely across the world, especially in America (as God knows there's far too many "christian" bestsellers over there that turn out to be as heretical as they are badly-written and generally wrong). Much of what discourages non-christians from engaging properly with the gospel is the elitism, materialism, and general hypocritical evil which so many "christians" espouse. Such likely-to-upset-Jesus folk in the extreme form are fortunately quite rare, with a pseudo-theological preacher of prosperity here and an entire political party bent on remoulding christianity into neoliberalism there, but the vaguer attitudes of individualism and not-caring-about-the-poor have seeped into the wider christian community. This hasn't been too difficult given the overwhelmingly middle-class status of most western christians. Anyway, the prevalence of these hypocrisies make christianity unappealing, laughable, false in the eyes of observers who can very easy read Jesus' words about feeding the hungry and watch a churchful of his supposed followers do their utmost to ignore the homeless man sat in the doorway near where they parked their SUV. More christian involvement in active development of social justice would be as excellent for alleviating human suffering as it would excellent for creating opportunities to share the gospel by actually living its implications and demands out properly.
   The one gripe-that-isn't-really-a-gripe I had with it, as I mentioned earlier, was that Keller steered away from engaging with christian involvement in politics. The methods he outlined as ways in which to work towards God's justice in society were all to do with altering personal habits, reinvigorating communities, collectively solving problems - which is all very well and good, but I think if we have a moral responsibility from God to care for the vulnerable then that must influence whether/how we vote, protest, campaign and act politically. Keller avoided having to discuss this by allowing some flexibility in his readers' definitions of justice (especially economically), to cater to liberal and conservative readers, though I'm sure that thought through properly, his arguments strongly imply that a conservative position is simply contrary to Jesus' position.*
   However, he didn't include an extended discussion of how christians should engage with the political sphere: why? Because the book is a motivation-changer for all christians. In keeping his arguments as theological as possible without straying too far from political neutrality, he doesn't automatically alienate and so lose the readership (and potential to motivate into action) of more conservative christians. I therefore think it's reasonable for him to exclude such a section, but also I prayerfully hope that conservative christians, having read the book, will have their attitudes reshaped, and give serious thought to the implications Christ's ethics have on their politics.
   Anyway. Should you read this book? Well, as a general all-round, yes. If you're a christian who's actively concerned with social justice, it'll give you enormous boosts of motivation and plenty of theological grounding for your actions that will aid evangelism alongside it. If you're a christian who's not that actively concerned, it might start making you one. If you're not a christian, it may give you a radically new understanding of the character and purposes of God and the world and our place in it, which may provoke you to rethink your stance on them.
   Praise God for his glory as the Father's sovereignty, his grace in Jesus' death, his goodness in the Spirit's ongoing work - and for giving us Tim Keller as a popular, intelligent signpost towards his Kingdom!


* Yes, this is genuinely my position. I think that someone who both holds the gospel to be true and holds a neoliberal (or similar) political stance has either not given enough thought to the relationship between their faith and their ethics, or is just an unrepentant hypocrite stubbornly trying to force camels through needle-eyes.

Veganomicon

This book, an American vegan cookbook by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero, will not be done justice in this post due to haphazardity of circumstance, which will also be discussed but likewise probably not done justice in this post.

   I found the book on an evil monopolistic tax-dodging online store (which I shall not name) while searching for vegan cookbooks. It seemed like the best one, so I bought it from elsewhere. I've finished reading through it already since it arrived yesterday morning - not even cooking from it yet, just reading through for drool-inducing interest and getting a familiarity-feel for animal-product-free kitchen-work. Perhaps a cookbook is an odd choice for casual reading, but perhaps a bean is an odd choice for primary protein sourcing, and besides, I read lots of not-so-odd things recreationally too, so shush. I will continue to abuse hyphenation and thereby make up lots of words in this post, sorry. It is very early in the morning as I write. The main stint of reading was done last night, as all my housemates and most of our shared friends were going to fun, and I wasn't, so I hid in my room reading this cookbook to minimise my feelings-of-missing-out during predrinks; regrettably the numerous so-delicious-in-my-imagination-that-reading-them-became-genuinely-gripping recipes and my atrocious sleeping pattern conspired together such that I was still awake when the gang arrived home, and since I have work to do for uni tomorrow anyway it seemed wasteful to go to sleep. I finished the book, chilled with the others briefly, made a cafetiere of coffee and am writing this at around 6am. Once finished with this I'm going to make a start on a chunky problem sheet for a tutorial about economic inequality and poverty.

   Yes. Anyway, the book, apologies.

   It's great. Notsomuch for normal recreational reading (unless you get easily stimulated by descriptions of food and explanations of how to make it), but as a vegan cookbook, heck, even just as a cookbook, it's fabulous. There are brilliant helpful sections on really basic things that everyone kind of knows but a bit of expert advice shines new light on doing them well - like getting to know your kitchen implements, and preparing vegetables, grains and beans in certain ways. If our communal student kitchen were wholly my own I would likely go out tomorrow and fill it with quinoa, kale, squash, avocados, chickpeas and all the other glorious stereotypically-hipsterish eatable-plant-bits, but as I share it with three other young adult males of similar messiness to myself, doing so might cause cupboard-space-havoc. You know. The book's written really accessibly* and even amusingly, the recipe instructions are clear (especially given the helpful introductory chapters on how to prepare basics and use tools), the ingredients nutritionally diverse and relatively easy to find. I actually can't wait to start cooking some of them.

   What was that? Because it's a vegan cookbook you expect me to start trying to proselytise for a vegan lifestyle?** I shouldn't, because [a] strangers' life choices, unless morally detrimental, shouldn't be any of your business to question, and therefore I'm under no obligation to justify a legitimate choice to others, [b] I'll end up getting carried away and doing a huge rant about it, [c] even responding to these hypothetical clamours for explanation will no doubt result in accusations of my own preachiness, and most importantly [d] I really do need to start that tutorial sheet. But regardless, okay then mate, I will (briefly), because people who genuinely believe that a cause is important shouldn't be afraid of proselytising for it, and guess what, veganism is important.
   So basically, I went vegetarian a couple of months before starting uni because I'm proactively terrified of the prospects of climate change. The animal product industry is one of the worst global culprits in emissions, and consumer habits can and do change social trends - so I decided to aim for a meatless diet. I've since gained a growing sympathetic support for animal rights and even learned a fair bit about health benefits of being veggie, but the environmental case still forms the core of my dietary-choice-motivations. Veganism, in cutting out dairy as well as meat from one's intake, further substantially reduces your food's carbon footprint, so it was the logical next step. See the double-asterisk-footnote if you want more on the topic.

   Well, that's me done, hope you enjoyed what's been a considerably-sarkier-than-usual and less-actually-about-a-book-than-usual post. I'm going to go to the library to apply algebraic models to poor people (economics is a weird subject).

* Except for its being American; but while inserting u's into "color" and translating "zucchini" to "courgette" in my head aren't too tricky, converting medieval °F and ounces into sensible °C and grams was. Fortunately there was a conversion table in the back, which unfortunately I found after scrawling my own guides to converting everything in the back of the intro chapter. Ah well.

** Cards on the table, I'm not a hardline dogmatist when it comes to this. My shoes and satchel and wallet and belts, which (vegan friends reading this please note) I bought before going herbivore, are leather. Since taking the plunge into trying to become a citizen of plant-food-world, I've eaten things with dairy products in them from time to time out of convenience, and even the cooked flesh of dead creatures (mostly either in politeness when given food from friends from other cultures, or fried chicken after West Street Live). Nobody's adherence to their own ideal lifestyle is perfect, and I count myself as normal in that regard: consider my veganism more of a guideline I follow as much as expectable. However, these deviances are rare, and increasingly rarer, and so while I'll maybe never be self-disciplined enough to gain full vegan powers, my diet has got healthier, more ethical and much more sustainable, so who's complaining?

Neverwhere

This book, the stunningly cunningly twistily mistily delightful first novel from storyteller extraordinaire Neil Gaiman, was (you can probably tell from the parts of this sentence you've already read) very enjoyable indeed. I picked it up second-hand years ago, and in this last week of my abhorrently long student summer, ploughed through it in a couple of days. I loved it.*
   To explain what the book is about would basically require a full synopsis, which I cannot be bothered to write and you shouldn't be bothered to read. You should just read the book. It's brilliant. The basic premise though is that another London exists, under and inbetween the gaps and forgotten areas of England's capital; this London Below (as it is called) is populated by weird conglomerations of cultures and peoples left behind in time and reality, by stern indefatigable warriors and people who idolise rats and immortal hitmen (Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar are hilarious and terrifying in equal measure) and medieval courts based on the Underground and black tea-drinking monks and dark life-sucking temptresses and some fantastically pompous dude called the Marquis de Carabas and even an angel called Islington. By accident, Richard Mayhew (a man with the stereotypical yuppie lifestyle and an appropriate unease at it) finds himself inextricably sucked into this world, and caught up in the murder plot of Door, the last surviving daughter from a noble family with the magical powers of opening anything. Richard, dragged along by Door, the Marquis and Hunter (a bodyguard with a penchant for slaying giant beasts), must come to terms with the weird new magical London he finds himself stuck in, and if possible return to his old life - all the while accompanying the others on their increasingly-dangerous quest to avenge Door's family.
   In terms of deeper thoughts and reflections on the content and themes and such of what I've read (which is what this blog's meant to be about) - well, I don't have any. Sorry. This book doesn't probe at concepts, it's not philosophical, it has no real agenda and makes no real points**, and I actually really enjoyed that about it. Sometimes it's nicer for a novel not to have one. It's only a story, but that doesn't diminish it, as in fully embracing what it is, it's a superb one. Neil Gaiman is probably one of the most genuinely imaginative writers alive. The world created is so unique, so inventive in odd yet comprehensible ways, so filled with characters real enough to care about (even the bad ones); the prose is intelligent and witty and deliciously descriptive; the plot is tight and neat and winds at the perfect pace to a fully satisfying resolution. It's punky and ethereal and postmodern and easily-accessible and wondrously entertaining.
   If you like great stories, read this book.

* A few days later, I acquired the 1996 TV-miniseries that Neil Gaiman originally wrote Neverwhere as (the novel was an extended in-depth adaptation of his previous work), only to be thoroughly disappointed. DO NOT WATCH THE MINISERIES. Almost everything about it is horrendous, except the writing (obviously) and the fact that Johnson from Peep Show plays the Marquis de Carabas and Malcolm Tucker plays the Angel Islington.

** Other than arguably a slight comment about individualism leading to antisociality, isolation and lack of interpersonal compassion in modern urban culture; the contrasts between London Below and London portrayed paint a picture of our normal world as one in which it becomes supremely easy to ignore everything and everyone outside one's own neat little life, which makes us both boring and complacent to others' ills. This isn't a central theme, though it is interesting and well-put (if somewhat socioeconomicoculturally (is that a word? I'm having that as a word) outdated, as a post-2008-recession reader).

Economics: The User's Guide

This book, a swift but penetrating introduction to the social science of economics from the veritable iconoclast Ha-Joon Chang, should be compulsory reading for voters and politicians and students and probably most other people. Chang is of the [excellent] opinion that economics, being as it is the shady force that drives global human society, is too important to be left to dubious academics. Widespread public understanding of the principles, arguments, theories and difficulties of economics is essential to a healthy democracy; our daily lives are shaped by economics and the policy decisions informed by it - how can we assent to government actions that we don't even vaguely comprehend for ourselves? In the prologue he puts forward a compelling case for even those who haven't touched a supply/demand diagram* with a bargepole to engage with the dismal science - 95% of which he says is common sense, and which is of course too important to be left to economists.

   His purpose in place, Chang then dives in to explain, in subject-divided chapters covering broad topics:

• a critical look at what economics actually is
• and an overview of how it has changed with the economies it studies, from Adam Smith in 1776 to current day
• followed by a brief history of the world's [mainly] capitalist economy
• then an open-minded insight into the varying methodologies, core theories and models of economics
• and of the economic actors' characteristics, behaviours, and interactions

[then an interlude]

• overview of issues in output, income and happiness
• overview of issues in economic production
• overview of issues in money and financial systems
• overview of issues in inequality and poverty
• overview of issues in work and unemployment
• overview of issues and debates in the role of the state
• final summative look at how we can use economics to improve the world

   The first half is an excellent orientation to economics as a thing, placing it in context of how we understand changing systems and providing insights from which one can begin to question and consider economists' points of view. The second half is an excellent introduction to some of the most hotly-contested-in-the-media important social concerns stemming from economics, which will allow a lay-reader to better engage with debate in such issues.

   The entire book is both a superbly educative primer for someone who has never properly encountered economics before, and a thought-provoking stir-from-ignorance for students of economics who have never been taught or shown (leastways, not in their course) how the subject should really be working. There are many schools of thought, and looking through a different lens or ten every so often is a great way of seeing complex issues more clearly - so why do economics departments (such as mine) focus their curriculum almost exclusively onto Neoclassical? The rational self-interest of economic actors is called into question by a host of empirical findings, but this is still taught as fact - why? How come economic policy is still taught as if it were the scientific deductions from infallible theoretical models, despite dozens of historical examples showing that the world doesn't work quite so neatly? These are questions Chang raises, curiosities he arouses in those both currently engaged with economics and those not; he intends to create a stir of educated shrewdness toward those who would otherwise blindside us with jargon and statistics. And I applaud him for it.**

   One (the only one I can think of without being overly pedantic) criticism I do have is of Chang's style of explanation. Not so much his actual explanatory sections - he writes with a clarity, levity and sensitivity to jargon and numbers; in plain English that makes the whole thing a breeze to read. He does have a habit though of peppering his descriptions with largely-irrelevant pop-culture references which themselves he then over-explains. Once or twice these actually do add to the point he's making or make a concept easier to grasp, but mostly they just seem to be there as unnecessary layman-accessibility window-dressing. I got used to them quickly, as they fit in with his relaxed tone, but it's still an irritating distraction whenever a paragraph-long explanation of a film pops up so he can employ a single short quote that he could have just said in his own words.

   Anyway.

   If you are, were, or will be an economics student; read this book. It won't teach you anything new about the content of your subject, but will teach you a huge amount about its context; it will help you weigh up your maybe-beloved-maybe-behated subject more objectively and healthily. If, as is more likely, you aren't, weren't and won't be an economics student - read it anyway. It's not at all academic so don't be scared off (it really is more of a "user's guide" than an introductory textbook, it's designed for laypeople), and will broaden your understanding of the world immensely, better equipping you to discerningly engage with political, social and business problems.

* The introductory reader will be pleased to hear there are no diagrams in the whole book. There's a few tables and numbers, but all very easily comprehensible in context. Chang is an excellent layman's explainer.

** For those interested in how current campaigns to reform economics syllabuses to something that better reflects a more humbly inquisitive subject, something less  insistent on diagrams as truth and more willing to accept pluralist schools of thought in critical debate - well, here's the facebook group for the Alternative Thinking for Economics Society at Sheffield University (where I be), and the website for Rethinking Economics, an international network of such student groups. They can probably put you in touch with an academic campaigning group near you.

Every Good Endeavour

This book, a treatise on work from super-reasonable super-accessible theologian Tim Keller, was a cracker indeed. Yet another bargain from last year's Forum bookstall, I'd been taking occasional strides through a chapter at a time for pretty much the year since, which worked out nicely as the chapters are self-contained enough to make potent points on their own and yet reinforce enough of the general theme to continue building the wider perspective of the book in an easily-retained way.
   The topic is, of course, work. In our modern western economies, "work" has become something very dissimilar to God's biblical plan for it, argues Keller. With his piercing gospel-centred biblically-grounded insights and characteristic clarity of argument, he outlines God's original intentions for the design of human work, as dignified, diligent, and delightful, taking joy in serving together and cultivating the natural, social and cultural elements of creation. Then he explains why we have problems in our relationship with work, as it all too often becomes selfish, fruitless or pointless; and these shortcoming are rooted in our idolatrous heart, which in striving to immerse our lives in self-service and sin lead us to approach all things, including work, wrongly. Our working lives can lay bare those disjointed attitudes and idols; be they prestige in posterity, a stable family, material security, raw power, whatever - the way we approach our work reflects our heart's priorities, and if we've put something other than God in top place then problems will arise in our relationship with the world (including work). Finally he brings the gospel to bear on our relationship with work and shows the liberating power it has on it; by rooting our attitude to work in the framework of God's plan for creation, our adoption into Christ, and the Spirit's influence in us, we as working christians can embrace work as something both humble and dignified, to take pride in doing but not root our value in, to strive for loving practice to the wider world both in our conduct and choice of workplace, to commit to excellence in service yet recognise the importance of rest. The new perspective offered is starkly different to how our world treats work, and is far more appealing with the christian worldview taken into account.
   I found this book really helpful. As per the stereotype of humanities students, even though I love my degree subjects and am passionate about other projects I'm involved with, I'm not prone to the best work ethic. Reading through Keller's book though made me think through a lot more thoroughly about the meaning and motivation of the work I do, finding purpose in its outcome and joyful service in actually doing it, by showing how my work and other people's work fits into God's bigger work - which is a good work. I'm trying to prayerfully reshape my attitudes to work to do it not for the salary, prestige, feelings of self-fulfilment, pride at social betterment, or even ethical outcomes themselves; but for the glory and spread of the kingdom of God. Old attitudes and habits die hard though, and having the truth laid bare in very lucid terms applicable to most working lives helps show us where to start. So, if you're a christian I strongly recommend this book to give you a solid grounding of practical theological applications of the gospel to the work that you do, and how it relates to the work that God's doing.

Stoner

<disclaimer>Before you think it, no, it has nothing to do with Bob Marley or Michael Phelps or Seth Rogen or Zach Galifianakis or Snoop Dogg or marijuana at all.</disclaimer>

This book, a forgotten gem of 1965 by John Williams (that became a 2013 bestseller because Vintage dug it up from somewhere and printed a load of new ones and everyone unexpectedly realised it should probably be counted among 20th century classics), was one of the most absorbingly melancholic truly perfect novels I have ever encountered. I somehow avoided the phenomena when it was sweeping British reading-circles, but my literature-fiend housemate left a copy here after he shuttled off to Wolverhampton so I decided to see what the fuss was about, borrowed it (thanks Chris) and went on to endure 288 pages of glorious heartbreak. The prose is so engrossing that I had to read it in three or four long bursts, finishing the entire second half throughout last night.
   I'm going to break my rule about minimising spoilers for this post, because plot isn't the main driver or worth of this book, style and mood are, and though I can't really fully replicate those in a shortish blog, a rough overview of his life's trajectory is key to them. Anyway, here goes [SPOILER ALERT].
   William Stoner, the eponymous protagonist biographied by the novel, is born into a traditional midwestern farming family in 1891. He enters the University of Missouri to study agriculture at the behest of his parents, but under the influence of literature professor Archer Sloane, falls in love with English and secretly swaps courses. He befriends two fellow students called Gordon Finch and Dave Masters, and finishes his degree while his disappointed parents age and die. World War One breaks out; Dave enlists and dies while William and Gordon stay on as teachers. He meets and takes a liking to a young woman called Edith Bostwick; while her protective upbringing and privileged parentage make her overly proper, she reciprocates and the two soon enter what he soon realises is a lifeless loveless marriage. William withdraws into his work, publishing a book on his beloved field of expertise, and slowly rising in his standing as a teacher, until Archer Sloane dies and Hollis Lomax, his replacement, takes up an indomitable grudge against William over a minor squabble concerning a blagging student. Soon the Depression strikes, and Edith's legally-dubious-banker father commits suicide and her mother dies shortly afterward. She becomes more assertive in her prim meaninglessness, and decides they need a child, which a year later they do have - a daughter called Amber. The few precious genuine moments William has with his daughter are snatched away by the properness and delicate education bestowed upon Amber by Edith, and his family continue almost unknown by his cohabitation. He sparks up an affair with research student Katherine Driscoll, which alongside his work becomes the only truly-loved pleasure in his life, until they are suspected too broadly by the University and must end, under threat of Lomax and now-Dean Gordon. He retreats into continuity of a subdued life, almost passive as Lomax shunts him from his passion subjects into introductory classes and as his wife maintains a household of quiet impersonality and as his daughter grows into a young woman as emotionally stunted and psychologically damaged as one would expect from her environment. Eventually Amber becomes pregnant, a distraught Edith forces her into marriage with the impregnator, who shortly thereafter ships out during the outbreak of World War Two and is killed, though Amber stays to live with his parents as the Stoner house is too broken. Her son becomes effectively adopted by her in-laws and she turns to alcoholism, for which William is grateful, as at least she can find some comfort there. He embarks upon another book but falls ill, is diagnosed with cancer, and steadily declines; having enough fight left to retrieve his own classes back from Lomax, be promoted to full professorship by Gordon, and see Katherine's research come to fruition in a book dedicated to him. He looks back on the events of his life as his mind finally gives, and contented, holding his book, watching trespassing students playing in his garden, he dies.
   William Stoner's life is little remembered. The few who knew him well probably didn't miss much, and those who knew him less well likely didn't at all, and his mark left on the world was little. But the emotional core of the novel, while embracing this grim perspective, shows that there is still significance is the things that happen to us: the minor victories we can win by whatever determination and bravery are relevant to our struggles; the beauties and joys that we can hold in relationships, be they closely or at an arm's length; the passionate commitment to work in something we find meaning in - these matter. John Williams' writing style is hypnotic in its stark walk through the deepest feelings, motivations, character and relational traits of the people in his novel that they seem fully human: human enough to be broken and whole in equal measure as their meaningful choices (which are few and far between) can lead them into working enlightenedly, false security, marital stagnation, joyful infidelity, petty rivalries, lifelong friendships, and so on.
   The people and things we have in our lives cannot be guaranteed to remain, or remain good, at any stretch; but if we have had good things remain good and we have reasonably strived to preserve them as such, then their loss does not make them insignificant, it merely makes them memory. Dave Masters' wisecracking cynical friendship is a token of this: though he dies early in the novel, his happy ghost remains to bond Finch and Stoner, cropping up in conversation decades afterward and influencing William's actions, attitudes and responses. Likewise his affair with Katherine, short and ill-fated as it was, remains as something full of genuine pleasure and love that could not be lost. Again as with Stoner's first realisation of his love for English literature that led him to drop agriculture and set the path for the rest of his lifelong career; when Lomax leaves him in dull freshman composition classes he reaffirms his love for the subject by resolutely ignoring his orders and teaching what he delights in teaching. These relationships, moments, events, achievements, that lend significance to William Stoner are sparse but beautiful, and build up to make what is an otherwise depressing novel into something life-affirmingly common and great.
   The prose is perfectly crafted to carry you along this walk through Stoner's life; peering into the depths of emotion and memory and character that shape its resulting choices with a poignant clarity that has the power to halt the readers' breath with a well-placed sentence or an unexpected adverb. There is tragedy here, yes - plentifully and existentially so - but it's wrapped in beauty and good intentions that carries it far beyond sadness. It really does pull you in and the longer you read in one sitting the better, as the words pile up on each other and you begin to inhabit the biography of William Stoner, to see better the flickers of meaning hidden in an unassumingly averagely disappointing life.
   Just read it. It's among the best novels I've ever read. But be aware that reading it requires a commitment, of time and feeling - it is best read in as few sittings as possible (I want to reread it some time in one go) and with as few expectations as possible. It is not a novel to consume. It's a novel to live in for the duration.

Why Cats Paint

This book is a fantastic (though somewhat dated as my edition was from 1994) introduction to the fascinating world of cat art, with a specific focus on questioning the root motivational causes for feline aesthetic inclinations. The authors are among the best people to have written such a book; Heather Busch has been on the International Council for the Curation of Feline Art since its inception, and Burton Silver was a founder of the Australasian League of Feline Art Critics - and needless to say both are widely-recognised authorities on critiquing and exhibiting top-standard artworks by cats of all nations.

   The book firstly provides an historical overview of recorded cat art; from ancient Egypt where the revered felines' wall daubings were seen as messages of the gods to Victorian England where a cat skilled at painting became famous as Mrs Broadmoore's show cat Mattisa, where live "pawtraits" were painted of audience members, much to their delighted surprise. The next chapter examines various theories of why exactly cats do paint; and from psychic energy fields to aesthetic rebuttals to dullard biologists' notions of behaviourism, this chapter provides a superb overview of the current theories. The final chapter demonstrates the variety of non-painted cat art currently in experimental circulation.
   However, the highlight of the book is of course the central chapter, which in turn spotlights twelve of the most influentially groundbreaking cat artists in the world, showcasing their work and describing their methods, with quality commentary on the character of the artists and how this affects their work. I was deeply struck by the technical skill and poignant insights of the art by Tiger, a spontaneous reductionist and a middle-aged tabby - his 1991 mural Breakfast stirred things in me unfelt since I visited the Stedelijk modern art gallery. Undoubtedly though the height of artistic credit in contemporary feline circles must go to the collaborative works of Wong Wong and Lu Lu, who despite being so different (a young black female and old white male respectively) have so well-adjusted to duo painting that their 1993 work best exemplifying joint efforts was titled WongLu and auctioned for a record-breaking (in cat art) $19000.

   Okay, I'll be honest - this book is a joke. Not in a bad way; the book was intended as a satirical jibe* at both the helicopter-parenting-esque culture of ambitious cat owners and the pretentious pomp of art criticism. I was made aware of its existence during a boredom-induced inane Buzzfeed ramble, googled it out of curiousity and realised it was an actual book, was intrigued enough to read the Amazon description, had £3 left of a giftcard anyway and there was a second-hand one for that so I plumped for "why not this looks like an interesting laugh" and it arrived six days later and I read it immediately in one sitting while my tea went cold and my entire leg was replaced with pins and/or needles.
   During that sitting, whilst reading, I was half laughing intermittently at how bizarre the whole thing was, and half desperately wondering whether the book was genuinely seriously actually real. Turned out it wasn't, but it's still hilarious. Would make a great gift for someone whose opinions of cats, art, or especially both, are a tad high. Though read it yourself too, because it's properly funny.

* I only just found this out. While reading the book I was in a constant state of bafflement as to whether it was actually serious or not, and the more I read the more convinced I was that it was in fact seriously a book about a genuine thing that actually happens in the real world (i.e. cat art) but nay, having finished it and sat upon the internet to write this post, my curiousity took hold and I googled it, and it is in fact a hoax book. The whole thing about psychic energy fields should've tipped me off, but at the time I just put that down to the authors probably being typically weird cat people**. It genuinely really upset me that the book was a hoax. It's still hilarious, so big props to the authors, for being committed to superlative comedy instead of brilliantly obscure animal art academia.

** I am a cat person, sort of, so no offence intended. Cats are great. I just have residual connotations in my mind with people who obsess over cats and people who probably don't find "psychic energy fields" an unlikely explanation for impromptu pet-paintings.

Wild at Heart

This book, by enthusiastically-masculine church founder John Eldredge, is terrible, for so many reasons. As a pre-explanation justification for why I read it, it was at a swap shop (basically unwanted-item-bartering; the majority of items being blouses, cutlery or picture books) and I figured a book aimed at christian men was more interesting than the alternatives. So I took it, started reading it in April, hated it, got angered and depressed by it but determined myself to finish it despite it gradually driving a significant negative wedge in my active attitude to christian life, and eventually finished it, read a couple of articles from prominent pastors supporting my problems with the book (here's the best one), tore the book apart* and put it in the blue recycling box thing for waste paper.

   Eldredge's general premise is that men in modern society have become domesticated, stifled by boredom and the effeminate demands of a post-1945 world, and for christian men, this has meant we've lost touch with who God means us to be, and thus also with God. To reclaim our identity in ourselves and our faith, we need to look deeper into our manly hearts and bring forth the innate adventurous risk-loving desires of "being the hero, of beating the bad guys, of doing daring feats and rescuing the damsel in distress" (quote taken from the blurb, but the text inside reeks of just as much repressed childhood). I had a biggish problem with what he had to say about gender roles, and several other biggish-to-enormous problems with the way he wrote, argued, and handled his points through what was supposedly christian theology applied to manhood.

   To get it out of the way though, I'll state what I do agree with him on: masculinity in men is becoming less prevalent, even in christian circles, as a result of cultural and social trends.** I'm also very much supportive of his opinion that The Great Escape is a great movie.

   Now then for my quarrels with John Eldredge as regards his book's content, methods, and implications. This could run into an entire blog post of its own but this one's already relatively long for a book I disliked so I'll try to keep it brief. These can be boiled down into roughly five points of contention:

1. Unhealthy, unhelpful, unrealistic discussion of gender roles. This is to be expected in my response to pretty much any christian book's treatment of gender issues, as I still have some serious questions regarding those attitudes, but nevertheless John Eldredge's book brings them to the fore in new infuriating ways. He paints gross caricatures: ideal men as strong, unruly, brave, delighting in wilderness and beards and meat and potential violence; ideal women as pretty much not doing anything independent but being pretty and feeling really good about the fact that this ideal man is providing and caring and loving her. My sensibilities vomited as I read some of his descriptions. I'm a feminist and strong supporter of LGBT+ rights and I'm aware that much of those ideas will not be taken on board by christianity any time soon, but surely there must be some middle ground between fully liberal gender attitudes and such hopelessly primitive portraits as the men and women of John Eldredge's bleak binary imagination? Dunno. Anyway, the manhood he extols has its merits, but should by no means be allowably stamped as being central to our identities. I get the feeling that were I to meet him and honestly disclose that I have no interest in taming horses or mountain climbing or white-water-rafting, he would put down his shotgun, shove aside his steak, lay a tanned arm on my shoulder and offer to pray for what he perceived to be my struggles with homosexuality. (Hey, if he's allowed to caricature literally everyone of both genders, I'm allowed to caricature him).
2. Weak, structureless, and frequently ridiculous methods of argument, designed to garner mass-persuasion rather than reasonable conclusions. Unbecoming of a christian author and/or someone with the use of rational thought, (a) most of his points are very hazily drawn out and founded on very shaky assumptions (some of which turn out to be heresies, yippee), and (b) most of the evidence he turns to in support of these points turns out not to be scriptural or theological but cherry-picked out of an unusual selection of proverbial butts. Anecdotes about his friends, wife, children, himself, his adventures in the wilderness; lengthy explanations and quotes from action films; lengthy expositions of the lives and actions of great manly men (I  half-jestingly reckon William Wallace comes off as a stronger role model than Jesus from sheer quantity of mentions); absurd, maybe even ignorant generalisations about personal variables of sex (there's not even the slightest examination of gender psychology, probably because empiricism would destroy his premise), character, spirituality and worldview; quotes from a book he doesn't give (can't remember?) the name of and from many others he does, but with the same gravitas as Bible verses. Instead of realising a reasonable conclusion through searching scripture, philosophy, theology, etcetera, and pathing the way to it soundly referencing his research sources as support, he ploughs toward an unjustified conclusion using vague handfuls of irrelevant unreliable spewage to prop up his points. It relies on the strongly empathetic emotive content of much of his "evidence" overriding readers' propensity for realising that what they're being told is almost nonsense.
3. Distortion of biblical scripture to suit arguments. That is, when he actually uses scripture, instead of the much-more-frequently-employed tactics described above. The same article linked in the intro highlights some of the main examples. 
4. First actual heresy - strongly implies that God is less than sovereign, omnipotent, omniscient and independent. He somewhat humanises God, making him out to be (a) a lover of risk and uncertainty (which one cannot be unless there are things one doesn't know or control) and (b) at least partially dependent on human love to justify his existent character. This contradicts all solid theology on the matter. The linked article again highlights some of points where this is clear.
5. Second actual heresy - strongly implies, assumes, and argues that the human heart, other than being a dark well of sinful nature and selfishness, is something intrinsically good, to be trusted and relied upon in informing our thoughts/words/deeds/relationships, and that in better knowing and living from the depths of our own hearts we can better engage with the characteristics that God implanted in them to bring us to fulfilment. This is directly contrary to all actual theology of human nature and sin, and isn't just a mistaken casual aside-point but is the central assumption to his entire book. Again, that article highlights some of the main examples where the assumption surfaces, though very obvious threads following it run throughout.

   The first, I can intellectually forgive because I'm quite liberal in my theological approach to gender, and I realise that the gender roles he discusses are not overly dissimilar to a majority of christian opinion. This still annoys me because I think it's flawed but that's separate to deconstructing this awful book.

   The second, I absolutely cannot intellectually forgive because it shows clear signs of either laziness, stupidity or manipulative populism in thought about actually quite serious matters, especially when the conclusions he draws are so downright sketcky.

   The third, fourth and fifth, I intellectually object to and as a christian strongly object to. Misrepresenting the truth of God in ways that John Eldredge has done in this book is the sign of either (a) deliberately false preacher whose contra-orthodox theological teachings have no place in a published christian book, let alone the pulpit of a megachurch, or (b) accidentally ignorant preacher whose complete lack of understanding of basic theological concepts have no place in a published christian book, let alone the pulpit of a megachurch. John Eldredge, in promoting our independence upon knowing ourselves, has glorified the heart of man and humbled the person of God; exactly the opposite of sound christian advice. Daryl Wingerd wrote this long but excellent article (same link as before) critically analysing the book, which I strongly recommend if you've read the book and are seeking wisdom to affirm everything you may or may not have thought was wrong with it. I'm genuinely concerned for the spiritual wellbeing of the people who listen to macho-man's sermons every Sunday (given recent controversies surrounding Mark Driscoll also, something in me wonders if questionable leadership and overemphasis on manliness are correlated... probably), and moreso concerned for the upwards-of-two-million people who have contributed to this book's sales success. Such wobbly wrong messages do not deserve to be so widely disseminated. If you are a christian, I urge you not to read this book (or if you do, have loads of salt ready to sprinkle a pinch onto each page). This other book is an excellent gender-neutral alternative, full of legitimate gospel-centred biblically-grounded teaching about how to reclaim our identity in relationship with God.

   I think this is my longest post so far on this blog. Fitting, for the book I've despised most since I started blogging each one. I had a few more things to say about the responsibilities of reason and wisdom in authorship but never mind.

* A staunch bibliophile, I usually detest causing damage to books, but the sheer dungliness of this one drove me to ensure that at least my own copy could never be inflicted upon a human brain again - though over two million copies have sold worldwide, which is a bummer.

** Being objective here. He goes on to blame this for all manner of spiritually-stultifying evils, whereas I'm not at all sure it's that bad of a thing, but yeh, he nonetheless made the objective point, and I agreed with him on it.

Logic: A Graphic Introduction

This book, part of The Guardian's series of free little graphic introductions to complex ideas or isms (this one by Dan Cryan, Sharron Shatil and Bill Mayblin), was surprisingly good. I salvaged it from the room of my brother who recently moved out and read it because I had nothing better to do and it's quite short and logic is quite a fascinating thing really. As a philosophy student, logic is something that I'm not unfamiliar with, but it's still an alien field that I could likely explore for months without being able to provide much insight beyond mere understanding - this is a field of study only meaningfully advanced once or twice a century by the keenest dedicated minds. The book, written in laymans' English replete with vaguely amusing illustrations demonstrating points, ideas and thinkers, gives an excellent introductory overview of logic: its roots in argumental structures, moving onto its relations to algebraic thought, the foundations of mathematics, ways of thinking about science and computing, how it deals with problems such as paradoxes and proofs, and how concepts such as truth and possibility fit in. In terms of critical content there wasn't much to grapple with here (hence why this post is only one paragraph), but it did make me zone out a few times in sheer overwhelmed wonder as to how some of the deeper "discoveries" could have been made - in logic there is nothing to observe, test for, experiment on or respond to, just pure thought structures analysed in abstraction to see how watertight they are; which doesn't sound like an easy task. Still, thinking about thinking and how similar it is to arithmetic or code or electronic systems or whatever, is quite interesting. As far as graphic introductory overviews go, this is pretty good, but for people genuinely interested in logic, there are sure to be easily accessible books out there that are way better at providing an academic entry to understanding.

Areopagus

This book, arguably more of a booklet, is a great little work by evangelist Roger Carswell. It's only about fifty pages long and very speedy-easy to read, being as it is designed for mass dissemination by christian students to their friends who they want to give more thought about the gospel. I had a stack of a dozen of them from somewhere, quickly read through it to get the gist, and hopefully will disperse them throughout the next year.

   Anyway, it's centred around Paul's missional speech at the Areopagus in Athens (see actual passage): basically he's alone in the city for a few days, and notices idols strewn about to multitudinous gods - which provokes him to start speaking to everyone there about the one true God and the grace shown by him in the person of Jesus. Ancient Greece was, of course, a fantastic place for bandying about philosophies at the time; critical intellectual debate was a pretty common public pastime, but when Paul's message of the gospel is heard, it's strikingly different to any other current ideas in Athens - and people engage. They invite him to the Areopagus, formerly a court but turned into a public debating arena, where new ideas are presented for critical reception. Here Paul lays out starkly the gospel, emphasising especially Jesus' exclusivity in truth and salvation. Carswell discusses the passage to show how Paul's message speaks deeply to a key focus in modern evangelism; worldview pluralism. Just as Athens' streets were lined with many gods, some even without name, representing many differing conflicting interpretations of truth and rightness; so too in postmodernism-laden 21st-century England are people's worldviews various beyond apparent necessity. However, unlike then, public critical debate of the ideas and values one lives by is not a social norm: many people hold worldviews out of convenience rather than intellectual assent; it's not that they think they know best how to live, but that they like living how they are doing and so would prefer not to bother thinking too much about the reasons, values and motives underlying it. Which makes evangelism bloody difficult, speaking from experience (hello christian philosophy students everywhere).

   So, as to this book, it's not one to buy to read yourself (unless you're an interested non-christian, in which case, maybe do and get stuck into critical thought). It was designed to be bought en-masse by christians and given to friends, and for that purpose it's good I think, though not just by itself. As a starter to probe ideas, fine, but accompany it with slatherings of prayer, and if your friend is genuinely digging their intellect into gospel, then suggest to them Tim Keller's The Reason For God or similar excellent titles to smooth out apologetic issues, or even critically going through scripture together. Anyway, this is meant to be about Roger's book, not general how-to-do-evangelism spewage from a definite amateur, sorry - but yes, as a buy-twenty-to-prayerfully-give-away kind of little book, it's a good one.

I Am A Cat

This book, Sōseki Natsume's classic of Japanese literature and hilarious philosophical ramble, is narrated by, yet almost nothing to do with, a cat. I bought it last year in Oxfam literally for the sole reason that the title made me chortle, and read it while on travels in Europe for the last two weeks. It was much more appropriate as a holiday-book than the other which I took along.
   Anyway. The eponymous furry hero has no name, and the novel, having originally been published as a series of ten magazine installments, has little in the way of plot or development. But no matter, as this work is more of a collection of lengthy quirky snapshots than it is an actual story, and at being what it is, it's fantastically entertaining.

   Narrating a rather long novel from a cat's point of view in a way intelligible to human readers would get very boring very soon if it were just a rationalised account of that cat's activity (though his short-lived love-interest with neighbouring Tortoiseshell, his attempts to catch a rat, and his consorts with disreputable cat Rickshaw Blacky alone provide for this aspect of the book), and so craftily Natsume spun together a cast of lovably weird characters who habituate the cat's owner's home, each providing anecdotes, jokes, tales and arguments aplenty. There's Mr Sneaze, who unlovingly and absent-mindedly owns the cat itself; he's a crackpot lazy grump teacher with stomach problems and academic pretensions about western literature. Mrs Sneaze, his condescending critic of a wife, the three young Sneaze children, and the threatening housekeeper O-san all pose further irritations and/or amusements to the cat. Then Sneaze's friends and acquaintances who regularly visit the house are indispensable as aids to the flow of random conversation: the slimy businessman Suzuki; the zen-obsessive thinker Singleman; the happy-go-lucky poet Beauchamp Blowlamp; the sarcastic maybe-lovestruck-but-probably-just-utterly-blasé science student Coldmoon; and of course the unforgettably irreverent fount of blunt interjections and verbose pointless wisecracks, Waverhouse.

   The majority of the book sees the cat sitting in on the conversation of various selections of these other characters, and quietly lending its supercilious feline judgement on them as they speak. Topics range from the cause of selfishness in modern humans to the size of the nose of Mrs Goldfield to prolonged confusion over whom her daughter is actually meant to be getting engaged to; there are lengthy diatribes against snake soup, schoolchildren, baldness, Waverhouse's trolling habits, and Coldmoon's inability to finish an anecdote about the time he wanted to buy a violin. Though wordy and long, all of these are hilarious, and display a deep penetrating insight into changing social philosophies at the time. Natsume was well-learned in ancient Chinese, Japanese and Western philosophy and literature, and at the time of his writing this Japanese culture was embarking on an upheaval of values as it became more open to the alien west, and many of the doubts and concerns and issues swirling the cultural mindset of early 19th century Japan are encapsulated and discussed (light-heartedly but deep-mindedly) by the characters who sit in Sneaze's study within earshot of the wise narrator Cat; and yet it never loses its levity until the end (I won't say why, because the end is sad).

   The tendency of the book to be more about the humans' conversation and attitudes rather than the cat made me think about the interesting link between narration in fiction and explanation in non-fiction. A lot of the time, the cat is just providing an open window onto the page for a splash of social commentary (though sometimes these are delightfully cut short by the cat getting bored and wandering outside). To what extent can a book do that before it ceases to be a novel and becomes a self-responsive dialogue of thought? Obviously a book can express values, but how far can it openly discuss them in character speech before they take the place of underlying prose and become what the book's about? Natsume avoided such a ptifall by lending the conversations over to the cat's inattentiveness or judgemental responses, or simply by the sardonic boredom of Coldmoon, Sneaze or Waverhouse. A minor but interesting point. 

   A final hat-tip to the translators, Aiko Ito and Graeme Wilson, is definitely in order too: English and Japanese are very different languages each with great depths of nuance in formality and tone, but they seem to have been transposed perfectly. Metaphors, similes, idioms and even puns have been carried across into English in a way that reads naturally and makes sense and still carries the humour, and though I can't read the original Japanese to double-check, obviously this must've taken a huge amount of cross-linguo-cultural skill, so, cheers.

   Anyway, this is a great book. Truly a work of a great comical and philosophical mind, and absolutely worth a read if you like funny interesting classics. Or cats.

You Are Not A Gadget

This book, a manifesto from veritable guru Jaron Lanier, was one of the most thought-provoking and relevant things I've read in years. I acquired it out of sheer curiosity a few months ago and read it during the quiet lapses while I've been travelling across western Europe for the last two weeks.
   Content-wise, there's not much I'll say about it because there would be far too much to say beyond a rough overview of the topic and points. Jaron Lanier has been one of the most influential people in Silicon Valley for decades, primarily researching into virtual reality and human relationships with digital systems, and as such he has a huge amount of very worthwhile things to say about those relationships. Basically, in the last decade or so, the trends of technology and the internet have started taking that relationship down a road that he's uncomfortable with, and this book is his cry to call attention before it's too late for us to steer our increasingly-internet-dependent societies in a better direction.
   The problems he sees are many and varied and extraordinarily well-articulated, and if you're interested in the internet and its effect on people and potential dangers or hopes for change then I can only point you to his book and exhort you to read it. Seriously, he knows his stuff and presses some challenging but difficult to contend conclusions. At the core of Jaron's argument is that digital systems innovated this century, especially in spheres such as social networks, crowd cooperatives, and cloud-sourcing media, dehumanise their users and devalue their content. This is largely to do with confusions about what constitutes personhood and identity; the difference between an individual and a profile or between information and knowledge; the problem of anonymity in usership lending no obligations to respectful behaviour; the problem of monopolisation in distributors of creative services; and many others.
   Like I said, the book touches on dozens of deep intriguing problems centred around our ties to the digital world - I'm barely scratching the surface. Each topic is very in-depth and poses further questions to the reader, and since this blog is supposedly about my thoughts in reaction to a book rather than just a plain book review, I may as well go over some of my main thoughts, though in keeping with what I've been saying I'll try to focus on my responses instead of summarising his arguments that I responded to. The chapter on creative media struck me; it's currently very difficult for independent entertainment producers to make money through their work. Outside of a handful of unrepresentatively lucky examples, mainstream success requires huge corporate backing investment, cloud streaming services give a pittance to the artists, physical sales are tough as digital availability is so easy (either pirated or by download from giant firms big enough to subsidise them), and even being paid for "real" things like live performances is hard to come by without an strong artist profile, which one can't really get without being able to succeed in visibility, which given the other factors, a lot can't. My response? I've stopped downloading music (my iPod's full enough anyway that I can survive off newly-bought CD's or the occasional gig), and started feeling guilty about certain dependencies. Ah well. What else did I have an interesting reaction to? Seemed like at least once every two pages I pulled a face in confused mindblown suspicion as I wrestled with obscure phrases ("Bachelardian neoteny" was my favourite of these) or compellingly weird points (he argues towards the end, in a spur of slightly-irrelevant genius, that if octupuses had childhoods they'd be the dominant species, which was delightful I thought), but most of the book is so far wound into a particular topic that unscrewing one's train of thought from what it was at time of reading without having to reread is proving difficult. It didn't help that we were travelling through Europe while I was reading this, so there were distractions aplenty - in fact the day I finished it, we went to a giant beergarden in Munich and made friends with a Texan socialist over several litres of German lager so tasty that the prospect of leaving for France the next day made us teary. Anyway, I digress.
   This is a great book. Be warned: though his writing style is comfortable enough, once he's introduced a particular term for a concept up for discussion he will casually reuse it and mash it together with existing or priorly-invented terms to aid the flow of his argument and somewhat confuse the less involved reader. It's quite intellectually strenuous, many of his chapters delving not only into relatively advanced computer science but also psychology and philosophy of mind. A bit of a challenge to read, and challenging ideas-wise too, but if mankind's relationship with the increasingly-independent internet interests you, look no further.

Unreached

This book, another from the helpful and prolific Tim Chester, is an excellent compilation of practical insights into planting and growing church communities in deprived working-class parts of the United Kingdom. I got the book in response to a UCCF mission trip to Grimsby last year, where several of us students stayed with a local church in the East Marsh area and helped run missional outreach events, youth clubs and community development programmes in the midst of what is a thoroughly impoverished town. We've revisited Grimsby as a team a few times since, and the most recent visit prompted me to consider possibilities for my future involvement with church plants, given the immense need of deprived areas. So to a book I turned, seeking not direction but guidance.

   The book's a product of Reaching the Unreached, a working group of christians involved in mission to Britain's poor, with anecdotes and advice distilled into a rough guide on how to do church in working-class communities. It skips the "why" other than a short but hard-hittingly truthful indictment of current church culture being predominantly, arguably damagingly, middle-class. So then we go straight into the "how" of engaging with and properly integrating with different class cultures in deprived areas, and finding within them new workable methods of gospel witness, in word and in deed, for both evangelism and discipleship. There's a consistent emphasis on social action's importance in terms of showing Christlike love by meeting needs, but more fundamental is the emphasis on the gospel message of humanity's need for repentance and salvation by the grace of Jesus Christ. I summarise here, of course - the book goes into many applications of how these messages can be put across effectively therein - but I would do no justice in attempting to list key points or topics, hence my vagueness in discussing the content. The book's theological aspects are well-grounded, the pointers on working-class mission are from reliable long-term experienced workers, the cultural examinations are empirical and reasonable. The only gripe I might have with it is that the model of "working-class culture" related to is somewhat stereotyped; but generalisations of subjects are helpful to make if you're giving generalised advice, and besides it comes with plenty of caveats as to use individual judgement in dealing with specific groups, areas, minorities, persons, etc.

   Basically the advice is trustworthy and good, and if you're seriously considering getting (or already are) involved with church activity in working-class or deprived areas, this would be a great source of both encouragement and aided understanding. And if you're not (non-christian readers, you're off the hook for this bit), why not? There's huge need in Britain's poorer parts, and if God would give his Son to die for a sinner like you or me, what right would we have to deny the Word from other humans in an attempt for us to cling onto several middle-class comforts? Thinking about this has struck me harder than the book itself - the book's more of just a guide than a direction, as I said. The direction is a calling to do what's right, and bringing betterment to areas which are materially deprived and worse, spiritually dry, seems like an important choice.