Salon Des Geeks

One of the many NPR programs that I enjoy is “This I Believe.” The program, which is based on the original series started by Edward R. Murrow in the 1950’s, invites people to share their deeply-held beliefs in the form of essays of 350-500 words. Selected essays are read aloud on the air by the authors.

Recently I found myself in the emergency situation of running out of reading material in the airport on a business trip to Kentucky. Since this violates one of my core beliefs (”Never be in Kentucky without a book”), I was lucky to run across the book version of “This I Believe” in the airport book store. The book includes essays by such famous lights as Albert Einstein, Helen Keller, Leonard Bernstein, William F. Buckley, Jr., and Eleanor Roosevelt, as well as many by ordinary folk. A concentrated shot of the thought-provoking material I normally hear in three-minute increments once a week on NPR, the book inspired me to work on my own belief essay.

I wondered if anyone on the salon might be interested in reading this book with me and discussing it. If there is a lot of interest, perhaps we might take it up as a topic at our next meeting. If only a few are interested, I would love to chat about it over e-mail.

http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/Story?id=3225368&page=2

For many American readers of his books, Hosseini is their only window into a culture and world that is very distant. “It’s really such an insider’s view of a country that we don’t get to see inside of very often,” said Elizabeth Santoro, who attended a book signing and discussion at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. “You see the violence on the news, but you don’t see the richness of the culture and its history.”

Current Topic is ‘Tolstoy’s Characters’:

http://readingroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/17/a-question-of-character/index.html?hp

I quoted the second line of this poem at brunch on Sunday:

Alexander Pope
On a certain Lady at Court

I KNOW a thing that ’s most uncommon;
(Envy, be silent and attend!)
I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.

Not warp’d by passion, awed by rumour;
Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly;
An equal mixture of good-humour
And sensible soft melancholy.

‘Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?’
Yes, she has one, I must aver:
When all the world conspires to praise her,
The woman’s deaf, and does not hear.

(Copied from http://www.bartleby.com/101/440.html)

I watched the film Stardust the other day and found it utterly charming. Apparently it is based on a well reviewed Neil Gaiman graphic novel. I highly recommend the film to all you salonniers. I really like fables, and this one is so charming that even the sinister murderers are … well… somehow not _that_ bad.

“An Assault on Hawaii. On Grammar Too.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/24/books/24masl.html

Since many of my news sources provide book reviews, I inevitable end up hearing many interviews of the same author, discussing the same book. Recently, that book has been The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zimbardo.

Dr. Zimbardo interviews well. Part of what makes him a good subject is the variety of his discourse. Each interview I have heard has given me different, and intriguing information. This morning what caught my ear was the way he talked about heroism. He was discussing how we shield ourselves from difficult situations. We live every day as yesterday. And when confronted with a new day, heroism is inherently difficult. The approach he would like to see for children is to prepare them for that heroism, by asking them to be ready: to realize one must act in the moment.

At that point, he recalled a recent incident where a man had a seizure waiting for a train, and fell onto the tracks in the subway. Of the 75 people on the platform, one of them acted. He left his two daughters and jumped onto the tracks to save his fellow traveller. The hard question is why one acted. Dr. Zimbardo emphasized how we ought to care about others. And how we need to attempt to be ready for the singular moment, and resolve to act. Because if paralyzed, the inaction results in evil.

I found these words challenging. Caring about others is not my forte. Inaction is. Moreover, I can never know how I will react in that moment. The second chance may never come, neither for hero, nor those who watched.

Salonniers,
After the interst in Terry Goodkind I searched for my books. Sadly I discovered those books had been placed too near my fireplace, and were charred. Only a few pages were left from one of the books. A warning dear friends, you may not wish to read on so fearful is the beast described within. Sadly, the author and the title have been lost forever, but here is Chapter 12 – “The Dark One”:

[Text is obscured] rd the pat pat of paw on leaf. I froze. The night air was warm and thick against my neck. The Way taught to me by the monks caused a tingle to descend my spine. Somewhere in the moist darkness evil was coming for me. My left loosened sheathed sword, while my right lifted the glowstone shade. The darkness parted to reveal only a dark avenue between the trees. Evil comes from emptiness. A rustle to my right and the Way took me. Let go the glowstone. Start the draw with the left. The right takes the hilt. The draw of the sword is paired with the relase of the shield. Downward into the fighting crouch. Sword high.

My level sword pointed to it. Inches from the point, unmoving, unblinking, its opaque eye was fixed on me. The tail twitched side to side in warning. The Great Ones warning was right: this forest was guarded by The Dark Ones. Reflexively I backed away, a scream choked in my throat by the weight of the Evil. The Thing’s fangs tore at a round object, nearly a tenth its side. The stench of bitter gas filled my nostrils.

It chittered glottals, full of warning. The evil spell pressed in on me. I backed away. But a root caused me to trip. Unbalanced I swayed toward it. Startled, it dropped the wooden grenade, and bore around to my right. I swayed. Then I remembered the words of the old man, “Show evil no fear, for The Dark Ones are cowardly. They live too close to fear.”

I advanced toward the beady eyed beast. Agitated it scampered up against a tree, and hissed. It jumped straight up! Running up the tree, it swung along a branch above my head. I cursed, and raised my shield high to protect from its coming attack. In vain I chopped at the branch. My sword cleved the branch keen through, ablaze with holy flame. My scream was answered as the Squirrel-fiend cast itself down upon me. The tree, ablaze behind it, its dark sillouette burned into my vision. I swung my sword across in a last desperate defense.

I could feel the crunch as sword met bone. The Holy Sword blazed, then fell dark. The Dark One in its death throes quenched the Holy Flame. A deep breath. I had survived.

But. What was that, jumping, flying from the burning tree? Aghast, I realized that this was but a scout. The tiny warriors swarmed from their dreys. Illuminated by the flames. I ran from them. In the darkness I could hear the swarm behind me. I could feel the heat of the flames of their wrath. I could almost feel their breath upon me when my foot splashed in water. The River of Soth! I was through to the other side! But what could save me from the mob? Frantic, I swung around, and as the twitching tails closed in, some primal force, I know not what, brought my hand around the object in my pouch, the Princess’ gift. It was the Talon. The Talon of the Terminator. The Talon was cold as ice. As the Dark Ones swarmed around me, it drew away my conciousness.

During the Salon, I mentioned that I had recycled several Terry Goodkind novels, to some small shock.
Perhaps this excerpt will explain why I feel perfectly justified in this decision.
What remains more puzzling is why I bought so many of them in the first place. *pain*

http://www.revisor.leg.state.mn.us/bin/bldbill.php?bill=H0224.0.html&session=ls85

I like the touch of self-deprecation, as well as the general degree of wit required to do this.