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I heard an interview with Steven Landsburg, author of “The Big Questions: Tackling the Problems of Philosophy with Ideas from Mathematics, Economics and Physics,” and immediately put the book on my TO-READ list.
One of the comments he made really struck me. He generalized that arguments over politics and religion can become intractable, and polarized, because those are areas of philosophy in which we can afford to be wrong, rigid, indifferent or stupid. People can dig into a position, regardless of evidence to the contrary, and hold on tight because there's no penalty for being wrong. You're just wrong, so what? If you think you're right, what do you care if anyone else disagrees? I'm not sure why, but I found that a very comforting thought — it sort of depersonalizes all the bickering. It's not a matter of life and death.
I am always comforted by the ritual of starting a new calendar. It reminds me of the relief I felt as a kid after I went to confession — “Whew! Another chance to get it right!” I like the process of transferring significant dates from the old calendar to the new — a review of birthdays and anniversaries, and a new commitment to be sure to send cards for each one! I have two good friends who have New Year's Eve birthdays, and I forgot both of them this year, all because I didn't bother to do the date-transfer ritual at the beginning of last year. Sigh. The path to perfection continues to elude me.
Santa was very good to me this year; I now have a subscription to the Sunday New York Times — delivered! I've subscribed online for years, but there's nothing like having the Sunday magazine and the book review section in hand, and available for reading all week long. Years ago, I read the New York Times daily — where the heck did I get the time?
While I was housesitting and looking for something to read, I picked up “I, Alex Cross” by James Patterson. I've read some of Patterson's previous works, including some of the Alex Cross series, and I expected a quick and not very taxing read while I killed a couple of hours with the dogs. I had noticed, the very day I picked up the book, that “I, Alex Cross” was at the top of the New York Times bestseller's list, so I expected to be entertained — the public can't be wrong, right?
Geez, that's a lousy book. It simply isn't possible to write a “fresh” serial killer plot — they've all been done, at least twice. All Patterson could do in this book was up the gore-ante a little, but really — we've already seen woodchippers in “Fargo”, so . . . why bother? This time, a relative of Cross gets chipped — not even an interesting relative.
See if you've heard this before: Brilliant and deep investigator begins to track down, in a maverick sort of way, a bizarre and inventive serial killer who slaughters high-end prostitutes (which allows for all the “nobody cares about dead prostitutes” dialogue) and who hangs out with other sleazy people. Psyches get tested by the necessity of “getting into the killer's head,” other friends and family are put at risk, various gory sites are found just a little too late, various creepy people must be interviewed, and the showdown scenes are littered with bodies. None of the main characters dies, and group hugs are performed by all. BOOOORING!!!
Much more dangerously, I've just finished a new biography of Ayn Rand by Anne C. Heller. There's nothing boring about Ayn — not much likable, either, but she was an original. I'm now going to reread “Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged” to see if they remain as interesting as they were when I read them in the '60s. I'm mentally writing columns as I read — be prepared for further opinions!
Grand Junction resident Judith Curtis-Mardon also writes a the popular “Bossy Gardener” column weekly for the Grand Junction Free Press. Catch that one on Friday.
One of the comments he made really struck me. He generalized that arguments over politics and religion can become intractable, and polarized, because those are areas of philosophy in which we can afford to be wrong, rigid, indifferent or stupid. People can dig into a position, regardless of evidence to the contrary, and hold on tight because there's no penalty for being wrong. You're just wrong, so what? If you think you're right, what do you care if anyone else disagrees? I'm not sure why, but I found that a very comforting thought — it sort of depersonalizes all the bickering. It's not a matter of life and death.
I am always comforted by the ritual of starting a new calendar. It reminds me of the relief I felt as a kid after I went to confession — “Whew! Another chance to get it right!” I like the process of transferring significant dates from the old calendar to the new — a review of birthdays and anniversaries, and a new commitment to be sure to send cards for each one! I have two good friends who have New Year's Eve birthdays, and I forgot both of them this year, all because I didn't bother to do the date-transfer ritual at the beginning of last year. Sigh. The path to perfection continues to elude me.
Santa was very good to me this year; I now have a subscription to the Sunday New York Times — delivered! I've subscribed online for years, but there's nothing like having the Sunday magazine and the book review section in hand, and available for reading all week long. Years ago, I read the New York Times daily — where the heck did I get the time?
While I was housesitting and looking for something to read, I picked up “I, Alex Cross” by James Patterson. I've read some of Patterson's previous works, including some of the Alex Cross series, and I expected a quick and not very taxing read while I killed a couple of hours with the dogs. I had noticed, the very day I picked up the book, that “I, Alex Cross” was at the top of the New York Times bestseller's list, so I expected to be entertained — the public can't be wrong, right?
Geez, that's a lousy book. It simply isn't possible to write a “fresh” serial killer plot — they've all been done, at least twice. All Patterson could do in this book was up the gore-ante a little, but really — we've already seen woodchippers in “Fargo”, so . . . why bother? This time, a relative of Cross gets chipped — not even an interesting relative.
See if you've heard this before: Brilliant and deep investigator begins to track down, in a maverick sort of way, a bizarre and inventive serial killer who slaughters high-end prostitutes (which allows for all the “nobody cares about dead prostitutes” dialogue) and who hangs out with other sleazy people. Psyches get tested by the necessity of “getting into the killer's head,” other friends and family are put at risk, various gory sites are found just a little too late, various creepy people must be interviewed, and the showdown scenes are littered with bodies. None of the main characters dies, and group hugs are performed by all. BOOOORING!!!
Much more dangerously, I've just finished a new biography of Ayn Rand by Anne C. Heller. There's nothing boring about Ayn — not much likable, either, but she was an original. I'm now going to reread “Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged” to see if they remain as interesting as they were when I read them in the '60s. I'm mentally writing columns as I read — be prepared for further opinions!
Grand Junction resident Judith Curtis-Mardon also writes a the popular “Bossy Gardener” column weekly for the Grand Junction Free Press. Catch that one on Friday.
