In Which I Post Some Long-Delayed Reviews
I'm back to the grind after Spring Break, which isn't really so bad, dear reader. But I have been remiss in providing the latest evaluations on recent books, a category I am now expanding to movies, classes, and other entertainment experiences. I hope you don't mind.
Spring break was not only about a social whirl - although I thoroughly enjoyed all the hanging out with friends chronicled in my last entry, and it's probably the thing I miss most about being back to work - but it also afforded me some time to dive into a more substantial scholarly book that I'd been saving for just such a big chunk of free time: Civilizations by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto.
The plural in the title is an intentional choice, as Fernandez-Armesto casts his net about as widely as one could imagine, looking at civilizations both ancient and contemporary, small and large, obscure and influential. His basic premise challenges the traditional definition of civilization as a system of social organization for large groups of humans that feature certain shared characteristics - specialization of labor, social stratification, monumental architecture, a writing system, etc. He argues that such traditional standards are both impossibly vague and generally reflective of the prejudices of the defining group. So, how large is large? What qualifies as a 'writing system'? What are our standards for 'monumental' architecture? Does such a system privilege inappropriately cultures that establish impressive presences in geographically favorable areas over groups who manage to carve out more modest existances in more challenging terrain? As an alternative, F-A offers a definition of civilization that hinges upon the extent to which humans control and reshape their environment to meet their needs, rather than relying upon what the environment gives them naturally. It's a thought-provoking idea, and one that brings into the discussion interesting and under-appreciated groups. But I can't help but wonder if casting the net so broadly dilutes the word 'civilization' to the point of meaninglessness, making it just a synonym for 'culture'. It's an interesting debate, though, and one that will no doubt stimulate scholarly discussion.
F-A organizes his ambitious work not by chronology or geography but by environmental typology - tundra, rain forest, river valley, island, coastline, steppe, highland, etc. This allows him to compare civilizations that don't often get grouped together, like the Aztecs and the Persians, or the Minoans and the British. I can't fault his choices or his taxonomy - once you get past the initiial premise of how to organize and define civilizations, the actual details follow his general premise very closely - but only applaud the breadth of his ambition. As with any such broad survey, there are generalizations and omissions and misinterpretations that will make the specialist cringe, but as he admits in his preface, this work is intended to create a new perspective from which such specialized work might flow later on. It's an admirable ambition, one that allows me to forgive his sometimes precious rhetorical stylings.
I also read Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island over break, after havinig seen the movie. I was interested to see how he pulled off the surprise ending in print. I was pleasantly surprised to see all the clues to the Big Reveal scattered throughout the book. - indeed, I think Lehane probably plays fairer with his reader than the filmmakers played with the viewer - although there were certainly enough clues, in retrospect, in the movie as well. The dream sequences seem to work better in print - they're telegraphed better in the book - but there are still a few areas where the hallucinations are presented from Laedis/Daniels point of view and so seem intended to gull the reader/viewer. The logic of the situations, however, really breaks down under objective scrutiny, revealing them for the mental fantasies they are, so I can't fault Lehane for them. He provides a great ride. The ending of the book is also a bit harsher than the movie's - although both are pretty grim. But then, I like the grim. I've got Lehane's latest, The Given Day, also a period piece, on my reading table for later in the month
In addition to Shutter Island I've seen two great animated films - one from a big studio, and one a small, independent effort - How to Train Your Dragon and Secret of Kells. The former is an action-packed, exciting, sweet, movie with a traditional happy ending - clearly a studio product, but a good one. The fact that somebody - or several somebodies - in the animation staff clearly owns cats and used that knowledge in making the dragons is a particular mark in its favor for me. Secret of Kells is a much more challenging film on several levels - the visuals are much more expressionistic, sometimes to the point of being psychedelic, even overwhelming. I loved them, especially how they evoked the illuminating style of the title manuscript, but they require some attention. The plot and pacing are much more leisurely - although the depiction of Viking raids matches anything in Dragon for ferocity and intensity. Finally, the ending, while happy, is considerably more ambivalent than Dragon. Two very different films, despite both featuring Vikings, but I loved them both.
Finally, I've been taking a medieval sword-fighting class in North Hollywood these past two weeks - along with ian_tiberius and Kev of castle_kevorah . The system is derived from a series of late medieval German fencing handbooks and features the two-handed sword. I rather like the fact that the fighting vocabulary is all in German - an overhand cut is an oberhau, and underhand cut an unterhau, a stabbing strike is a stich, etc. I also very much like the commitment and organization of the instructor, who is dedicated in his approach, timely and conscientious in his communication, and skilled in his mastery of the art. So far I've learned several strikes and some basic footwork. No defense yet, except some basic dodging footwork, but this fits in with the philosophy of the style (called Kunst des Fechtens - or Art of Fencing), which emphasizes aggression and attack. I know, who'd've thunk it based on German manuscripts, eh? I'm particularly impressed by the fact that the school emphasizes not only technical proficiency but also a cultural understanding of the broader context in which this style evolved, so advancement to the higher levels requires not only demonstration of proficiency of swordsmanship, but some knowledge of medieval history. Yeah, I could totally get into this.
So watch out - I'm adding a two-handed sword to my tacking and scrummaging chops from rugby!
Spring break was not only about a social whirl - although I thoroughly enjoyed all the hanging out with friends chronicled in my last entry, and it's probably the thing I miss most about being back to work - but it also afforded me some time to dive into a more substantial scholarly book that I'd been saving for just such a big chunk of free time: Civilizations by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto.
The plural in the title is an intentional choice, as Fernandez-Armesto casts his net about as widely as one could imagine, looking at civilizations both ancient and contemporary, small and large, obscure and influential. His basic premise challenges the traditional definition of civilization as a system of social organization for large groups of humans that feature certain shared characteristics - specialization of labor, social stratification, monumental architecture, a writing system, etc. He argues that such traditional standards are both impossibly vague and generally reflective of the prejudices of the defining group. So, how large is large? What qualifies as a 'writing system'? What are our standards for 'monumental' architecture? Does such a system privilege inappropriately cultures that establish impressive presences in geographically favorable areas over groups who manage to carve out more modest existances in more challenging terrain? As an alternative, F-A offers a definition of civilization that hinges upon the extent to which humans control and reshape their environment to meet their needs, rather than relying upon what the environment gives them naturally. It's a thought-provoking idea, and one that brings into the discussion interesting and under-appreciated groups. But I can't help but wonder if casting the net so broadly dilutes the word 'civilization' to the point of meaninglessness, making it just a synonym for 'culture'. It's an interesting debate, though, and one that will no doubt stimulate scholarly discussion.
F-A organizes his ambitious work not by chronology or geography but by environmental typology - tundra, rain forest, river valley, island, coastline, steppe, highland, etc. This allows him to compare civilizations that don't often get grouped together, like the Aztecs and the Persians, or the Minoans and the British. I can't fault his choices or his taxonomy - once you get past the initiial premise of how to organize and define civilizations, the actual details follow his general premise very closely - but only applaud the breadth of his ambition. As with any such broad survey, there are generalizations and omissions and misinterpretations that will make the specialist cringe, but as he admits in his preface, this work is intended to create a new perspective from which such specialized work might flow later on. It's an admirable ambition, one that allows me to forgive his sometimes precious rhetorical stylings.
I also read Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island over break, after havinig seen the movie. I was interested to see how he pulled off the surprise ending in print. I was pleasantly surprised to see all the clues to the Big Reveal scattered throughout the book. - indeed, I think Lehane probably plays fairer with his reader than the filmmakers played with the viewer - although there were certainly enough clues, in retrospect, in the movie as well. The dream sequences seem to work better in print - they're telegraphed better in the book - but there are still a few areas where the hallucinations are presented from Laedis/Daniels point of view and so seem intended to gull the reader/viewer. The logic of the situations, however, really breaks down under objective scrutiny, revealing them for the mental fantasies they are, so I can't fault Lehane for them. He provides a great ride. The ending of the book is also a bit harsher than the movie's - although both are pretty grim. But then, I like the grim. I've got Lehane's latest, The Given Day, also a period piece, on my reading table for later in the month
In addition to Shutter Island I've seen two great animated films - one from a big studio, and one a small, independent effort - How to Train Your Dragon and Secret of Kells. The former is an action-packed, exciting, sweet, movie with a traditional happy ending - clearly a studio product, but a good one. The fact that somebody - or several somebodies - in the animation staff clearly owns cats and used that knowledge in making the dragons is a particular mark in its favor for me. Secret of Kells is a much more challenging film on several levels - the visuals are much more expressionistic, sometimes to the point of being psychedelic, even overwhelming. I loved them, especially how they evoked the illuminating style of the title manuscript, but they require some attention. The plot and pacing are much more leisurely - although the depiction of Viking raids matches anything in Dragon for ferocity and intensity. Finally, the ending, while happy, is considerably more ambivalent than Dragon. Two very different films, despite both featuring Vikings, but I loved them both.
Finally, I've been taking a medieval sword-fighting class in North Hollywood these past two weeks - along with ian_tiberius and Kev of castle_kevorah . The system is derived from a series of late medieval German fencing handbooks and features the two-handed sword. I rather like the fact that the fighting vocabulary is all in German - an overhand cut is an oberhau, and underhand cut an unterhau, a stabbing strike is a stich, etc. I also very much like the commitment and organization of the instructor, who is dedicated in his approach, timely and conscientious in his communication, and skilled in his mastery of the art. So far I've learned several strikes and some basic footwork. No defense yet, except some basic dodging footwork, but this fits in with the philosophy of the style (called Kunst des Fechtens - or Art of Fencing), which emphasizes aggression and attack. I know, who'd've thunk it based on German manuscripts, eh? I'm particularly impressed by the fact that the school emphasizes not only technical proficiency but also a cultural understanding of the broader context in which this style evolved, so advancement to the higher levels requires not only demonstration of proficiency of swordsmanship, but some knowledge of medieval history. Yeah, I could totally get into this.
So watch out - I'm adding a two-handed sword to my tacking and scrummaging chops from rugby!