daydalus blog

Reading E

June 17, 2009 – 2:25 pm

I finally succumbed to the necessity of a crackberry and found myself spending a lot of time in airplanes and subway cars. After reading the same Sky magazine for the fourth time, some new reading material was in order.

I tried ebooks a few years back, uploading raw text files to the Note reader on my iPod. It worked ok, but the mechanics were annoying - no bookmarking, scrolling through each page, battery draining.

On my blackberry I was able to download a program called Mobi PocketReader. It’s a free app built on the iTunes model - expensive content downloads integrated seamlessly.

I was on a tropical island kick and read through Treasure Island and Lord of the Flies in about a week each.

Each file is broken up into hundreds of tiny pages - each the size of the Blackberry screen. Flipping between pages is nearly instant with the click of the space bar (much faster than the Kindle). The program also keeps a blue bar along the bottom of the screen to track progress (ala World of Warcraft’s XP bar).

Reading in this format (small twitter-sized chunks of literature) takes some adjusting. Faster paced or Young Adult writing (ala Treasure Island, Lord of the Flies) fits into the format pretty well. More complex writing is a bit more difficult, especially if sentences stretch across multiple pages.

Obtaining ebooks requires a bit of work, but nothing too major. Because the Mobi program itself only provides pay-for-download content, you’ll need to use your regular computer to download and/or build ebook files. Project Gutenberg is probably the best starting point, with hundreds of classic novels and writings already in the Mobi format.

TXT, PDF and HTML files can be converted to the Mobi format using the MOBI creator program.

Once you have your ebook file, you need to transfer it onto the blackberry hardrive. The easiest way is simply to email the file to yourself and then save it to the home/media/ebooks directory on the phone. The mobi program will automatically detect and display it when you open the “Library”.

Overall, having a few books on me at all times will probably result in more reading. Which is a good thing. The overall experience is a bit less pleasant than an actual printed book. The small glowing rectangle is more eye strain than natural light on paper. And flipping back and forth (to determine the length of a chapter, or re-read a relevant passage in context) isn’t really possible on the mobile device. I wouldn’t want to read Pynchon on the thing. But it works great for page-turners and (relatively) short fiction - nice to have when I’m stranded at the terminal for a 3 hour flight delay.

Currently in my library: Walden, Notes from the Underground, Adventures of Huck Finn, Foucault’s Pendulum.

Note - Similar setup for the iPhone here

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Concrete Dwellers

June 17, 2009 – 6:42 am

From NY Early June

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Garden State

June 2, 2009 – 7:02 pm

For the past month I’ve been working in New Jersey. My morning commute is an hour long and identical to the Soprano’s intro. Under the Hudson and straight through the Meadowlands and Newark, this vast stretch of brown industry, acres of cranes and stacked containers and overpasses.

So it felt especially appropriate reading Philip Roth’s American Pastoral, his Pulitzer prize winning novel about the life of Seymore Levov, a businessman who lives and experiences tragedy right here in Newark New Jersey.

I haven’t read a lot of Roth, but what I have was always excellent. He has this ability to take the mundane and the trivial, the minutiae of daily life and turn it into extended, flowing prose. Even more, in American Pastoral, those very same tragedies act as allegory for the latter half of 20th century American history.

Seymore Levov (the Swede) grows up an all American boy in the 1940s. He’s handsome, excels at sports, and is a hit with the cheerleaders. He signs up to be a Marine in the war, but misses deployment by a few months, and returns home to his father’s growing glove factory in Newark, and to marry his sweetheart, the newly crowned Miss New Jersey.

The glove business excels and the Swede moves out to rural New Jersey, the town of Old Rimrock, to live in a big old stone house out in the woods and stride along the quiet streets “like Johnny Appleseed”. He has a young daughter, and aside from her slight stuttering problem, life is wonderful.

But young Merry comes of age in the tumultuous 60s, and her obsession becomes the Vietnam War. The race riots nearly burn the Swede’s Newark factory to the ground, and Merry falls in with a dangerous crowed - the Weather Underground. From there, his pastoral paradise becomes a veritable hell.

Roth tells his tale in an interesting format. He’s not concerned with plot. The summary above is pretty much conveyed within the first 50 pages. The bulk of the book looks at the events from different times in the Swede’s life, as he thinks about his own actions and inabilities, the crux of fate verses free will. And as his family self destructs externally, we see the psyche of a man who was so strong and confident in beautiful youth become a cowering and indecisive shell.

If we look at Swede as a model for America, perhaps the allegory is a too clean cut. The narrative of that 30 year stretch (the maturation of the baby boomers) has been retold countless times. The idyllic to the psychotic in one short generation. But the skill of Roth’s pen is what’s impressive. He can move from a single thought - “What about the time I joked about Merry’s stuttering? Did that turn her bad?” - and move through a whole history of the family, the character quirks and oddball anecdotes. That’s what it takes to map a tragic life, all the little things.

Still, I can empathize. I’ve driven the turnpike through those wastelands, all the way out to where there are more green trees than road signs, and there are huge stone houses sitting up on wooded hills. Even there you can’t hide the fact you’re in soul-sucking New Jersey…

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New Tunes

April 14, 2009 – 8:47 pm

Dan Deacon - Bromst

The cover art of Bromst features a tent, glowing in the backyard of some summer night. The pattern on the fabric isn’t fatigue green or camouflage - its red and blue diamonds, like Merlin’s wizard cap.

That’s perfect imagery for Deacon’s sophomore record, which continues in the vein of Spiderman of the Rings, especially Wham City!

Deacon’s sound has always felt retro, like the remixed soundtrack of an epic SuperNES RPG. Bromst specializes in mechanized buildups that feel incredibly warm, close, even human. Like summer campfire songs filtered through a Willy Wonka gadget. He’s even brought back the chipmunk-chant.

At times the noise feels too much (Red F, Get Older) - like you’ll get an ear seizure. But there’s a great middle region, with highlights include Padding Ghost (pirates vs. chipmunks), Snookered (reminds me a bit of Sigur Ros), and Of the Mountains (M83s ambient record).

Deacon has a classical music background and it shows, taking hyper-energetic motifs and expressing them in epileptic fits: piano, xylophone, saxophone, and pure otherworldly synths. But he has the soul of an 8-year-old boy - his stuff just feels tinted like an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

Franz Ferdinand - Tonight

One way to avoid the sophomore slump is remake your debut. This is what FF did with You Could Have Been So Much Better (the title a tongue-in-cheek self-dig). A three-peat would have been too much. Tonight takes the now well-known formula (bass-heavy rock with a funk tempo) and adds a synthesizer.

At least it’s danceable. A good number of the songs are retreads of past efforts, but Lucid Dreams probably best fits what they were aiming for. It morphs seamlessly between a grungy rock stomper and a synthy tweak-out, capturing that time of night beyond weariness, beyond revelry, when there’s a moment of intense clarity.

Even if their music is pedestrian, Franz Ferdinand has always had their eyes set on an existential plane. Engaging in revelry but not satisfied, continually seeking out the next buzz, the next rush, the next thrill. Who knows if they’ll find it? Regardless, they make cool covers (Britney Spears, LCD Soundsystem).

Doves - Kingdom of Rust

On their earlier records (Last Broadcast, Lost Souls), Doves felt like chameleons of sound, experimenting with genre and styles: one minute blues, the next standard guitar rock, then heavily produced atmosphere, and acoustic strum-along ballads. With Some Cities (and now Kingdom of Rust), they’ve solidified their sound, centered on Jez Williams’s weary baritone and a standard bass-heavy Brit rock.

Kingdom of Rust expands on a discordant minor key, imagery of decaying infrastructure, the final days of the modern world. Jetstream clashes driving percussion with lethargic lyrics and a synth ascension, like a rainbow against thunderheads. The title track matches their angsty ballad format, a lot like The Sulpher Man or Valley.

Unfortunately, none of the songs engage in that joyful bittersweet melody found in their old stuff (Caught by the River, Sea Song). Part of me wishes they’d leave the dreary grunge of London’s East End and return to wide and varied Americana.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It’s Blitz

These days, electropop is in. Even the most grungy, garage rock, East Village post-punk band feels the pull of digital manipulation. And sure, it’s catchy. Yeah Yeah Yeahs have always had pop-music sensibilities. They just glammed it up with authentic drunken stage antics and killer guitar work.

It’s Blitz is darkly atmospheric, like the soundtrack to a cyberpunk film. They’ve kept the militaristic, violent imagery so common in punk. Still, it feels neutered to a degree - Karen O contained, robotic, possibly sedated. It’s more Ladytron, less Sex Pistols. Maybe the city of the future found a way to settle her screams. If anything, that’s frightening.

The Decemberists - Hazards of Love

Rock opera and theme albums have been out for quite some time. But with all their in vogue anachronisms, Colin Meloy probably thought - why not? He’s always been a songwriter heavily into narrative. Each song a tale in itself. So why not extend it to album length? He already did something similar with The Tain.

Starting out “My true love went riding out in white and green and gray”, they’re off to a good start. What follows is a twisted tale of tragic lovers in a Victorian setting, colorful villains, magical realism, and tangential episodes. In short, the Hazards of Love.

Overall, the piece drags at parts, soars in others. The opening tracks set a good pace, but once the guest vocalists step onto stage, the feel is off. By The Rake’s Song, Colin is back in true form, voicing a dastardly lecher, backed by thunderous percussion. Annan Water is another standout, a sorrowful ode to a fast river with steady acoustic strums.

The Decemberists are one of the most original and talented bands out there. I’m not going to dock them for experimenting. As long as they stay fresh, and authentically old-fashioned, I’m a fan.

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Brief, Wondrous Novel

April 3, 2009 – 12:19 pm

I recently watched an interview with Junot Diaz on Slate. He was congenial, if a bit shy and smiled a lot - his shaved head and neat little goatee almost gleaming under the studio lights - this smooth earthy brown cocoa and coffee skin. He almost seemed like too much of a nice guy to have written Brief Wondrous Life.

He read from his book, a chapter way down the line where Oscar’s inevitable fate is meted out - a vignette of thick-necked gangsters and tense car rides out to the cane fields. A scene more at home in a Grand Theft Auto mission than a literary upstart.

Looking back on it though - those brief moments of clichéd violence fit neatly with this complex tale of a Dominican family and the “curse” that’s plagued three generations.

But before we get there we start with Oscar himself: overweight, nerdy, one of those stereotyped characters that patronize comic cons, live action role playing, collect Warhammer miniatures and Dungeons and Dragons tomes. There are a few hilarious episodes with Oscar, his “cool” roommate Yunior (the narrator) and his misadventures with the finer sex.

But the majority of the novel is dedicated to the story of Oscar’s mother. As a girl she is orphaned following the torture and imprisonment of her father (and subsequent insanity of her grieving mother) by the insatiably sadistic Dark Lord and Dictator of the Dominican Republic - El Jeffe - Trujillo. The tyrant casts a long shadow across the entire book, and all three generations feel his vengeful and petty wrath in myriad ways.

Diaz’s brilliance is how he reveals this history of Hispaniola through the language and verbiage of 1980s nerd culture - comic books, fantasy novels (especially Tolkien), and role playing games.

By painting Trujillo as Sauron and his chief goons and torturers as Nazgul, Diaz has given the entire sad history of D.R a sort of narrative lightness, a sense of destiny, and all the bloodshed and repression becomes part of a mythical narrative infused with the spirit of the people.

This presents a rather interesting reading experience. I was more versed in the lexicon of the Dungeon Master’s Guide and the Silmarillion than the colloquial Spanish slang littered throughout the narrative. Other readers probably have the opposite background. It created a somewhat lopsided and unique experience. But it does illustrate how literature and narrative is an interactive art form - the author may transcribe his thoughts into text but the reader must take it in and translate.

Diaz is a wonderful and inventive writer. This is his first published novel and a few of his tricks and trendy techniques felt a little gimmicky and pretentious. But this was a fascinating and engaging novel, and a fast read as well. Well deserving of the Pulitzer last year.

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