Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell By Susanna Clarke

Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is long. You don't see many paperbacks exceed 1,000 pages. Then there's the footnotes: JS&MN is full of them. Maybe that's what you'd expect from a well-researched annotated history of 19th-century Britain--except JS&MN isn't a history book; it's an alternate-history fantasy novel. Footnotes aren't new to genre fiction: Terry Pratchett, for example, uses them. Clarke's usage, however, often leads to pages-long digressions into British history. The footnotes not only add to JS&MN's density, but also add to the reader's impression that he is reading a narrative history of Britain. So complete is the illusion that, more than once, I began to wonder: Why haven't other historians delved into the history of magic in Britain. It's so richly interesting!

The book moves forward through the lives of its title characters, who are both practitioners of the hitherto lost tradition of English magic. Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell are giants in the alternate-history of Britain, so it's no surprise that they find themselves amidst the momentous events and among the most important and influential people of their day (e.g. Napoleon and Waterloo). But JS&MN is at least as much about its characters and their culture as it is about the history of Britain. There's lots of Jane Austin's influence at work, from the subtle social commentary to the empathetic--though flawed--title characters; and like her great books, JS&MN tells an essentially human story.

JS&MN has been called Harry Potter for adults, but that's not exactly correct. It's not correct both because adults have, and do, read Harry Potter, and also because JS&MN won't appeal to nearly as many adults as Potter does; though where there's inaccuracy, there's also some truth. Children will appreciate JS&MN when history becomes the most popular subject in school and they read Jane Austin for pleasure--which is to say that almost none of them will. It's a different kind of book. Partly for that reason, it's well worth the time investment--great as that investment may be.

The Golden Compass

It's been awhile since I alienated my readers, and what better way to get back into it than by talking about religion? I won't get into a straightforward explication of my religious views, but if you'd like some insight into those, my second post on this blog is probably the closest thing you're going to get. Anyway. Onward!

The release of The Golden Compass has impelled the Catholic Church to take action against it in its usual manner, and by that I mean denunciation and censorship. You can watch the movie in theaters now (trailer here) or you can read the book on which the film is based. If you're like me, you'll do both. The Church has an inveterate history of being wrong, so it's best not to take their word for it. I say this, by the way, not to degrade the Church; it's simply a statement of fact, albeit written by a frustrated non-Catholic.

The second paragraph of this post might offend some readers, and I'm sorry if anyone feels offended by my words, but I'm not sorry for giving offense by writing them. There's simply nothing objectionable in The Golden Compass, and the Church's objections are based, at best, on insecurity and discomfort with its own history--which, let's face it, there's good reason for; at worst, however, they're based on prejudice against the author, an avowed atheist--which, well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?

If the Church sees itself in The Golden Compass's Magisterium, then perhaps it ought to think about that. If it sees its own reflection in a fantasy film about an oppressive religious authority, surely that's a reason to do something about the image in the mirror, and not a reason to destroy the mirror.

Granted, the movie isn't completely neutral, and the books are admittedly subversive, but this is often true of good fiction. Anyway, critical thinkers can decide for themselves what to believe. But we don't develop critical thinking skills in young adults--or, for that matter, adults--by keeping ideas away from them. Quite the opposite. Which is why it's so troubling to see Catholic school boards pulling the books from their shelves. The primary purpose of education should be to inculcate critical thinking skills, not ideology, and the Church appears unable to understand that.

Philosophy & Science From A Scientist & A Philosopher

I haven't had much motivation to write lately. Not sure why. I have, however, had plenty motivation to read. Among the books I've been reading are Richard Feynman's The Meaning of It All and Paul Feyerabend's Against Method.

I've read three or four of Feynman's books before. This one is a collection of three lectures on science, religion, and philosophy. The lectures are transcriptions. And it shows; they're not very well written. But there are lots of Feynman's always-interesting anecdotes used to illustrate abstract ideas. I like this argument style a lot--although I can follow abstract arguments, I don't have a lot of faith in them to demonstrate anything important. Only when they're woven together with concrete examples do I really pay attention to the conclusions. Like Feynman, my allegiance lies with empiricism, not rationalism.

The book itself is most interesting for its exposition of science and scientific thinking. The main idea is that there's... not a method, exactly, but a set of values intrinsic to scientific thinking. These values are crucially important for truth-seeking, and they ought to be better respected, but truth-seeking isn't the only important thing in the world. Values themselves, for example, can't be discovered by the scientist. And values, of course, are valuable. Feynman, by his own admission, is not a philosopher, and some of his arguments are dubious, but they're all thought-provoking.

Feyerbend's book is a polemic on the philosophy of science, written by a philosopher. The thesis is interesting: Feyerbend argues for methodological "anarchy" in epistemology and science. The actual evidence to support the thesis isn't very impressive, however. There are too many controversial claims with too few--or zero!--specific citations to back them up. For that reason, it's hard to accept the claims of a philosopher about science over the views of an actual physicist--and a highly respected one at that. But don't take my word for it. Feynman wouldn't want you to.