Having just completed Gödel, Escher, Bach (or GEB) thirty years after it was originally published, I am astonished at how well it has aged. I am not iHaving just completed Gödel, Escher, Bach (or GEB) thirty years after it was originally published, I am astonished at how well it has aged. I am not in the least surprised, however, that the book remains widely misunderstood, particularly among those who sing its praise. In a sense, it having won the Pulitzer is a prime example of a monumental work winning for the wrong reasons.
What every reader can agree on is that GEB is tremendously clever. Despite being nominally a work of "nonfiction," author Douglas Hofstadter has woven a host of fictive and literary elements into the work in both obvious and subtle ways. Because these maneuvers (chiefly found in the "Dialogs" between Achilles, a Tortoise, and others that serve to embody certain principles under discussion) have a necessarily pedagogical objective, they lay out their cleverness for all to see. They are, in a sense, something like a clock that reveals its inner workings to the viewer and invites them to work through how it tells time. And, like such a device, the answers are often difficult. GEB is not an easy book, in that it politely requests that the reader not only follow the argument but be able show their work.
But these tricks (which is all they are, for all their delightful cleverness) are not the meaning of GEB - they are only the tools Hofstadter employs to convey that meaning. The underlying message of GEB is far more nuanced and subversive. Hofstadter builds a meticulous foundation linking formal logical systems (such as basic arithmetic proofs) to the far more slippery concepts of language, thinking, meaning, and self-reference.
I won't attempt to summarize Hofstadter's argument(s), as doing so in such a confined space will inevitably fall short of his own exhaustive (and exhausting) methodology. I will, however, highlight the two conclusions he draws that speak more powerfully to me:
(1) Any conceivable non-supernatural intelligence will necessarily be unable to fully understand itself.
(2) Any formal system that is sufficiently robust to make indirect self-reference is a foundation upon which intelligence may be represented.
The first conclusion, a consequence of Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem, is the logical instantiation of that clever paradox "This is a false statement." Applied to the brain and to computers, it serves to demystify the positivist notion that complete knowledge is possible through technology. In fact, it is nothing short of a demonstration that omniscience is logically impossible. This 'pessimistic' (or 'realistic') message is plainly evident.
The second conclusion, however, is far more important. It argues, effectively, that intelligence as we know it (as well as intelligence as we cannot know it) can be achieved by systems that are composed of small, simple, "mindless" pieces. It is nothing short of an argument for the epigenesis of meaning, from which stems beauty.
The following passage, from the book's final chapter, captures the interplay of these two notions:
My feeling is that the process by which we decide what is valid or what is true is an art; and that it relies as deeply on a sense of beauty and simplicity as it does on rock-solid principles of logic or reasoning or anything else which can be objectively formalized. I am not saying either (1) truth is a chimera, or (2) human intelligence is in principle not programmable. I am saying (1) truth is too elusive for any human or any collection of humans ever to attain fully; and (2) Artificial Intelligence, when it reaches the level of human intelligence - or even if it surpasses it - will still be plagued by the problems of art, beauty, and simplicity, and will run up against these things constantly in its own search for knowledge and understanding.
For my part, finding this gem atop the Hofstadter's now-immortal ziggurat of reasoning is an empowering conclusion to a very elegant argument....more
Widely praised, Connie Willis' Doomsday Book is a rare bit of time travel fiction: it tells a raw, powerful, and believably realistic story with a verWidely praised, Connie Willis' Doomsday Book is a rare bit of time travel fiction: it tells a raw, powerful, and believably realistic story with a very minimal appeal to the "speculative fiction" toolbox. Collins takes the principles of time travel outlined in To Say Nothing Of The Dog and uses them to outline a far more grave and ambiguous story, departing from the farcical comedy of the preceding novel to address the grim subject of epidemics, particularly the Black Death.
The story follows two tracks, one in the 14th century and one in a very familiar 21st century. Both stories focus on epidemics, but do so with the striking contrasts. In the 14th century, the time travel canard permits us the perspective of epidemics in a context of total ignorance and surprise; in the near-future, a state of almost-overpreparedness for contagion reigns. At the same time, the events of the 14th century are known to us despite local ignorance, while the outcomes of the near future are totally uncertain despite advanced epidemiological techniques.
The tone of the book shifts markedly as time passes. It begins innocently enough, having the lighthearted "British comedy of errors" flavor that the author employed in To Say Nothing Of The Dog. This, is appears, is really a means of getting the reader involved in and invested in the medieval and modern characters, whose social networks are appropriately convoluted. The consequence is that when the respective epidemics finally reach full swing, the many resulting deaths have a great deal more impact. While this is arguably a manipulative technique reminiscent of Cerebus Syndrome, my opinion is that it is likely the most effective method to convey the grief and hardship of terminal disease outbreaks. Collins is not trying to betray the reader, in this regard: she is instead trying to be honest about an awful reality. When people get sick and die, especially before their time, it is tragic at a personal level no matter what the statistical size of the outbreak.
That said, the book is not perfect. Its later chapters are emotionally exhausting (which is as it should be), but leave a number of crucial points unresolved. In addition to its shift in tone, the story traffics in red herrings to heighten suspense, which is perhaps necessary to raise the stakes for the reader, but feel a tad overmanipulative in retrospect.
I felt that the book is deserving of the praise it has received, in that it achieves something few works of genre fiction manage: it conveys universally understood human experience in a rich, believable way. The challenge of telling a story about characters on the one hand and about something has wide in scope as disease on the other is no easy task, and Collins' success should be lauded. However, that balancing act requires sacrifices, and in some (arguably small-scale) ways, the strongest human elements of the book suffered for it....more
Michael Chabon's most famous (and Pulitzer-prize-winning) novel comes so preceded by a miasma of hype that it seemed, when cracking the book for the fMichael Chabon's most famous (and Pulitzer-prize-winning) novel comes so preceded by a miasma of hype that it seemed, when cracking the book for the first time, impossible for the actual work to live up. Happily, this is one book that fully deserves the near-universal and almost fanatical praise it has often received.
In plain terms, it tells the story of a Brooklyn Jew and a Czech Jew (cousins) living in New York during a span ranging from pre-war to post-war America. This two-man team, composed of Sam Clay (the American, and a writer) and Joe Kavalier (a Czech artist trained in magic and escape artistry) join forces to create a comic book character named The Escapist, who stands in the golden-age superhero company of the likes of Superman and Batman. This collaboration is the foundation for their joint stories, as the inexorable currents of their lives are filled with triumph and tragedy.
The novel's central theme is that of "escape." Throughout, all of the characters seek fervently to escape from various difficulties, some beyond their control and some of their own creation. To go any further into the nature of those escapes (successful and otherwise) would rob the story of much of its impact, so I will say nothing more specific. The writing has considerable emotional power, and that forcefulness is all-the-more-powerful without a clear picture of what lies on the horizon. The structure and the ending are unpredictable going forward, but makes perfect sense looking back, a rare combination.
However, Chabon's writing is excellent precisely because of its ability to give us a sense of the future. Like an excellent soundtrack, Chabon's ability to use foreshadowing gives us hints about events about to take place. Nothing in the book is truly surprising (in that the reader is shocked when it happens) because Chabon hints at each twist as it unfolds. The result is a narrative that flows in a way that is deeply intuitive, even as it is also realistically chaotic.
It's probably the case that a certain Nerd contingent will feel as though the book is written especially for them (and some of the obtuse references Chabon presents are undeniably nerdy), but being completely ignorant of the world of comic books and pulp writing should present no difficulty to a mainstream reader. The focus is on the characters and their inner worlds, which are vibrant in their humanity. While comic books are uniquely suited to the themes of the novel, this is a book anyone can enjoy immensely, and everyone should....more
Anathem is the story of a world in which most academic scholarship (including most pure science and most philosophizing) is done not by institutions oAnathem is the story of a world in which most academic scholarship (including most pure science and most philosophizing) is done not by institutions of higher learning, but by unisex monasteries that shut themselves off from the world to degrees. In this world, the preservation of knowledge is considered not on a scale of years or decades, but rather on a scale of centuries or millennia. Largely shut off from the world, these scholars keep the flame of knowledge alive while civilizations rise, fall, and rise again outside their walls. Until, that is, the monastic protagonists are swept up in a series of events that threaten to change the world as they know it.
On its face, Anathem seems like an impossible proposal: a science fiction epic about a bunch of monks who study Platonic philosophy. To make matters worse, it's one of those speculative works that insists on having its own vocabulary. The title, for example, is a term that fuses the words Anthem and Anathema. And instead of merely having a new meaning, it has multiple meanings, ranging from technical to colloquial. The book is riddled with this special vocabulary, and when combined with the weighty philosophical tangents, the book seems as though it should fall flat.
For some readers, in all likelihood, it will. But I found it fascinating. Instead of inventing scores of terms for no reason, Stephenson (in typical fashion) has a master plan, and his deviations from normal reality are all part of that plan. Because he is trying to build an entire world from scratch, the author's attention to detail rewards a very close reading. More than a novel, Anathem is a puzzle wrapped in the cloak of a novel.
Anathem also rewards readers who have a liberal arts education, particularly knowledge of philosophy and the humanities. This will sadly lock away some its cleverness from many readers. Seeing, for example, that a rule of thumb called "The Steelyard" is actually a disguised version of "Occam's Razor" will amuse and delight those readers who are in on the joke. Those who are not may appreciate the idea, but lacking insight into its source would seem to me to potentially diminish the impact of the book's ideas.
These factors, combined with the kind of methodically slow pacing (especially earlier in the book) that one would expect from a story narrated by a monk, will turn off many readers. It's tempting to say that Anathem is "too smart" a book for such readers, but it is unfair to conflate intelligence with the sort of "classical intellectualism" that the book resonates with.
For readers who are up to the task, however, Anathem rises to the occasion. Stephenson strives to present us with a world perhaps more perfect (and certainly stranger) than out own, and his careful attention in constructing this world is all the more striking when the reader takes a step back and considers the scale on which he is working....more
I'll be the first to admit it: I'm a fan of popular fiction. I desire enjoyment from certain factors of pacing and style that the literary elite consiI'll be the first to admit it: I'm a fan of popular fiction. I desire enjoyment from certain factors of pacing and style that the literary elite consider "common" and I, in turn, generally find "literature" to be incredibly pretentious. This has led me to hold what some might consider "uncultured" opinions about various great works.
Which brings us to Don Quixote, which many in the literary elite consider to be the greatest novel ever written.
Did I love Don Quixote? I wouldn't go that far. Does it deserve to be called the greatest novel ever written? I'm willing to put it on the short list.
Here's the thing: Cervantes published Don Quixote in the early 17th century, while Shakespeare was still working through his "tragic" phase (Hamlet & whatnot). By rights, it should be like so much other "classic literature:" dense, slow, utterly irrelevant to modern life, and soporific. Instead, it's dense, slow, engaging, and surprisingly relevant. Cervantes manages, almost continuously, to be clever in ways that transcend the 400-year gap and resonate with us now. There's no question that adapting to the writing style of that era is a challenge, and Don Quixote will be slow going to readers accustomed to modern pop fiction. But most intelligent readers will consider this a price worth paying.
Why Don Quixote still works stems largely from its having taken the formulas of "heroic knighthood" (which we are still vaguely familiar with as legend today) and showing it to be cartoonish and absurd. Despite the cultural gap, modern readers will still get the gist of the parody, even if they haven't read the chivalric literature that it is an explicit parody of.
The other reason the story works is because, strangely, we find ourselves continuously at odds with the author over the character of Don Quixote himself. We are told, at every turn, that Quixote is a fool, a madman, and a sinner. Cervantes breaks from the traditional role of a passive narrator to make constant judgment on Quixote's failures and flaws. And because we see Quixote so maligned by both his own author and everyone in the book, we as the reader fall in love with him. By writing a book about a dreamer with unassailable ideals but using the narrative voice of a vitriolic cynic, Cervantes forces us to stand up for the nobility and purity that Quixote achieves. Cervantes has, in effect, martyred his own protagonist in such a dramatic way that it falls to the reader to elevate Quixote to the status of saint.
And any book that can pull that off is worth the difficult prose....more
There's little question that Cryptonomicon put Neal Stephenson on the map. Some of us had been reading his work since Snow Crash, but when this massivThere's little question that Cryptonomicon put Neal Stephenson on the map. Some of us had been reading his work since Snow Crash, but when this massive multicharacter epic hit the stands, the mainstream sat up and took notice. Cryptonomicon has been called Stephenson's best work, and with good reason.
The story's core narrative is slow to emerge, introducing us to three central protagonists: Randy Waterhouse (modern computer guru), Lawrence Waterhouse (Randy's mathematician grandfather) and Bobby Shaftoe (a WWII-era soldier). These stories are developed in parallel and initially seem related only by the most tenuous connections. As the plots unfold, however, the globe-spanning secrets tying them together begin to emerge, bringing with them great risk and great reward. Along the way, the story is peppered with memorable secondary characters, some of whom are allowed extended periods as protagonist.
As the title suggests, cryptography is an important part of the novel, as are the themes of information in warfare and mathematics. This description may seem intimidating to some readers, but Stephenson masterfully weaves the topics he needs the reader to understand into the story, letting his quirky characters entertain with their antics as they explain a whole host of ideas. Stephenson is at his best in Cryptonomicon in large part because he is able to spend the first third of the story educating the reader without sounding pedantic, laying the considerable groundwork necessary for events later in the story.
Cryptonomicon also has the dubious distinction of being one of the few works of fiction in US history to be subject to a number of military treaties. The story depends in one section on a form of low-tech but high-security encryption called "Solitaire" that can be achieved with a mere deck of cards, Included is an appendix that explains Solitaire in details, and this appendix constitutes one of the lowest-tech forms of hard encryption ever developed. As a result, US treaties regulating the export of technology with military technology apply to Cryptonomicon, which means carrying it with you into certain countries may actually be a crime! Stephenson's stated objective was to distribute an encryption methodology for use by people in the developing world, who lack the technology to use more common algorithms, making the novel quite literally a weapon against tyranny.
It would be difficult to say more about the plot without undermining the pleasure of seeing the characters (all very distinct but sharing a similar independent streak) navigate the plot twists. Stephenson's multi-character approach can be slightly disorienting, but works well here because it helps to ensure that the reader is never too far from "the action" of the novel. The result is nothing short of gripping....more
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