Do you read?

[mjmooney]

5 hours ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I can still remember the sheer beauty of Ulysses but I never quite understood what was so special about Proust.

Presumably, The Man Without Qualities must offer some difficulty if you gave up on it, although sometimes its a case of wrong time - wrong book.

I really enjoyed Proust actually. 

TMWQ is a bit heavy going tbh. But I'll stick with it this time. 

[MakemineVanilla]

10 hours ago, mjmooney said:

I really enjoyed Proust actually. 

TMWQ is a bit heavy going tbh. But I'll stick with it this time. 

I'll put TMWQ on my list.

Having been delighted by The Count of Monte Cristo, I find I'm struggling to follow it.

 

[mjmooney]

53 minutes ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I'll put TMWQ on my list.

Having been delighted by The Count of Monte Cristo, I find I'm struggling to follow it.

Don't go straight to Musil, then. Very different beast. Best way I can describe it is sort of dense, rambling satire. 

[Wainy316]

Reading Fire and Blood as I don't want to wait two years for more House of the Dragon.  Well over 300 pages before Viserys is even born!

[MakemineVanilla]

1 hour ago, mjmooney said:

Don't go straight to Musil, then. Very different beast. Best way I can describe it is sort of dense, rambling satire. 

I have recently started Kynaston's Modernity Britain, and so Musil is not imminent.

[mjmooney]

1 hour ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I have recently started Kynaston's Modernity Britain 

I wish he'd crack on with the next volume. 

[MakemineVanilla]

4 hours ago, mjmooney said:

I wish he'd crack on with the next volume. 

My friends and family would disagree - his books are full of amazing facts, I insist on sharing!

[MakemineVanilla]

On 24/02/2023 at 11:27, mjmooney said:

Don't go straight to Musil, then. Very different beast. Best way I can describe it is sort of dense, rambling satire. 

I have just finished part 1 and I have to say I am very impressed.

I can certainly see a comparison with Mann's Magic Mountain, as well as Proust.

The quality of the writing is stunning.

 

[mjmooney]

22 minutes ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I have just finished part 1 and I have to say I am very impressed.

I can certainly see a comparison with Mann's Magic Mountain, as well as Proust.

The quality of the writing is stunning.

I'm about 25% of the way through, and I've definitely got into the swing of it. That said, I'd still put it third behind Mann and Proust. So far, anyway. 

[KentVillan]

Listening to London Fields by Martin Amis on Audible.

A bit too smug and Spectator-ish in parts, but gets away with it because it's so well written and dashes along at a nice pace.

[MakemineVanilla]

21 minutes ago, KentVillan said:

Listening to London Fields by Martin Amis on Audible.

A bit too smug and Spectator-ish in parts, but gets away with it because it's so well written and dashes along at a nice pace.

I am a big fan of Amis and although I think Money is by far his best book, I like them all.

I don't think London Fields is great but there are a few scenes, I still laugh about.

I am thinking about a game a woman character persuades a naughty kid to play.

Edited March 8, 2023 by MakemineVanilla

[MakemineVanilla]

I am reading The Thirties by Juliet Gardiner in the Harper Press series.

Unlike the rest of the series by Kynaston about the post-war decades, which are very cheering by comparison, reading about the 1930s, is a totally miserable experience.

I knew the 1930s were bad just from my own family's experience of uncertain employment, but I didn't realise how lightly the Midlands got off compared with the North of England, Scotland, Wales and Cornwall.

Discovering how workers were laid off and paid the absolute minimum dole, as they waited for big capital to find a use for them, fully realises the meaning of the terms "reserve army of labour" and "wage slave".

Far worse and enraging, was to read about the means-testing system, which was inhuman in its implementation, separated families and confiscated the meagre possessions of the poor.

How those people could continue to love this damned country is beyond my comprehension, let alone volunteer to fight to preserve it's rotten system, so soon after being used so badly.

It is slightly depressing to have my cynicism confirmed but the truth is definitely invigorating.

 

 

[osmark86]

Currently reading (or rather listening to) Immune by Philpp Detmer (the guy behind Kurzgezagt aka the cute animated youtube birds that teach you about stuff n thangs) and it's fascinating. 

[robby b]

Happiness is a Tea With You, by Mamen Sanchez.

Then I'm finally going to restart White Teeth, by Zadie Smith, which a friend of mine has recommended to me.

[mjmooney]

4 hours ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I am reading The Thirties by Juliet Gardiner in the Harper Press series.

Unlike the rest of the series by Kynaston about the post-war decades, which are very cheering by comparison, reading about the 1930s, is a totally miserable experience.

Strictly speaking, they're not part of the same series. Different authors, different publishers, different naming convention. But, yes, they do follow the same 'mass observation' social history format, and if you add in Gardiner's 'Wartime', you've got a continuous chronology. Like you, I treat them as a de facto 'set'. 

[MakemineVanilla]

2 hours ago, mjmooney said:

Strictly speaking, they're not part of the same series. Different authors, different publishers, different naming convention. But, yes, they do follow the same 'mass observation' social history format, and if you add in Gardiner's 'Wartime', you've got a continuous chronology. Like you, I treat them as a de facto 'set'. 

Considering recent contemporary issues about the BBC, I was highly amused to read how Lord Reith was summoned to Number Ten, where Ramsay MacDonald demanded that some wireless programmes about the experiences of the unemployed, should be pulled because they were making the Government look bad.

Reith objected but said that if Ramsay insisted he would broadcast twenty-minutes of silence instead.

[mjmooney]

I can relate to this. 

Quote

I love books. If I go to the bookstore to check a price, I walk out with three books I probably didn’t know existed beforehand. I buy second-hand books by the bagful at the Friends of the Library sale, while explaining to my wife that it’s for a good cause. Even the smell of books grips me, that faint aroma of earthy vanilla that wafts up at you when you flip a page.

The problem is that my book-buying habit outpaces my ability to read them. This leads to FOMO and occasional pangs of guilt over the unread volumes spilling across my shelves. Sound familiar?

But it’s possible this guilt is entirely misplaced. According to statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb, these unread volumes represent what he calls an “antilibrary,” and he believes our antilibraries aren’t signs of intellectual failings. Quite the opposite.

LIVING WITH AN ANTILIBRARY
Taleb laid out the concept of the antilibrary in his best-selling bookThe Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable. He starts with a discussion of the prolific author and scholar Umberto Eco, whose personal library housed a staggering 30,000 books.

When Eco hosted visitors, many would marvel at the size of his library and assumed it represented the host’s knowledge — which, make no mistake, was expansive. But a few savvy visitors realized the truth: Eco’s library wasn’t voluminous because he had read so much; it was voluminous because he desired to read so much more.

Eco stated as much. Doing a back-of-the-envelope calculation, he found he could only read about 25,200 books if he read one book a day, every day, between the ages of ten and eighty. A “trifle,” he laments, compared to the million books available at any good library.

Drawing from Eco’s example, Taleb deduces:

Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. [Your] library should contain as much of what you do not know as your financial means, mortgage rates, and the currently tight real-estate market allows you to put there. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Indeed, the more you know, the larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary. 

Maria Popova, whose post at Brain Pickings summarizes Taleb’s argument beautifully, notes that our tendency is to overestimate the value of what we know, while underestimating the value of what we don’t know. Taleb’s antilibrary flips this tendency on its head.

The antilibrary’s value stems from how it challenges our self-estimation by providing a constant, niggling reminder of all we don’t know. The titles lining my own home remind me that I know little to nothing about cryptography, the evolution of feathers, Italian folklore, illicit drug use in the Third Reich, and whatever entomophagy is. (Don’t spoil it; I want to be surprised.)

“We tend to treat our knowledge as personal property to be protected and defended,” Taleb writes. “It is an ornament that allows us to rise in the pecking order. So this tendency to offend Eco’s library sensibility by focusing on the known is a human bias that extends to our mental operations.”

These shelves of unexplored ideas propel us to continue reading, continue learning, and never be comfortable that we know enough. Jessica Stillman calls this realization intellectual humility.

People who lack this intellectual humility — those without a yearning to acquire new books or visit their local library — may enjoy a sense of pride at having conquered their personal collection, but such a library provides all the use of a wall-mounted trophy. It becomes an “ego-booting appendage” for decoration alone. Not a living, growing resource we can learn from until we are 80 — and, if we are lucky, a few years beyond.

TSUNDOKU
I love Taleb’s concept, but I must admit I find the label “antilibrary” a bit lacking. For me, it sounds like a plot device in a knockoff Dan Brown novel — “Quick! We have to stop the Illuminati before they use the antilibrary to erase all the books in existence.”

Writing for the New York Times, Kevin Mims also doesn’t care for Taleb’s label. Thankfully, his objection is a bit more practical: “I don’t really like Taleb’s term ‘antilibrary.’ A library is a collection of books, many of which remain unread for long periods of time. I don’t see how that differs from an antilibrary.”

His preferred label is a loanword from Japan: tsundoku. Tsundoku is the Japanese word for the stack(s) of books you’ve purchased but haven’t read. Its morphology combines tsunde-oku (letting things pile up) and dokusho (reading books).

The word originated in the late 19th century as a satirical jab at teachers who owned books but didn’t read them. While that is opposite of Taleb’s point, today the word carries no stigma in Japanese culture. It’s also differs from bibliomania, which is the obsessive collecting of books for the sake of the collection, not their eventual reading.

THE VALUE OF TSUNDOKU
Granted, I’m sure there is some braggadocious bibliomaniac out there who owns a collection comparable to a small national library, yet rarely cracks a cover. Even so, studies have shown that book ownership and reading typically go hand in hand to great effect.

One such study found that children who grew up in homes with between 80 and 350 books showed improved literacy, numeracy, and information communication technology skills as adults. Exposure to books, the researchers suggested, boosts these cognitive abilities by making reading a part of life’s routines and practices.

Many other studies have shown reading habits relay a bevy of benefits. They suggest reading can reduce stress, satisfy social connection needs, bolster social skills and empathy, and boost certain cognitive skills. And that’s just fiction! Reading nonfiction is correlated with success and high achievement, helps us better understand ourselves and the world, and gives you the edge come trivia night.

In her article, Jessica Stillman ponders whether the antilibrary acts as a counter to the Dunning-Kruger effect, a cognitive bias that leads ignorant people to assume their knowledge or abilities are more proficient than they truly are. Since people are not prone to enjoying reminders of their ignorance, their unread books push them toward, if not mastery, then at least a ever-expanding understanding of competence.

“All those books you haven’t read are indeed a sign of your ignorance. But if you know how ignorant you are, you’re way ahead of the vast majority of other people,” Stillman writes.

Whether you prefer the term antilibrary, tsundoku, or something else entirely, the value of an unread book is its power to get you to read it.

Big Think

 

[MakemineVanilla]

On 24/02/2023 at 11:27, mjmooney said:

Don't go straight to Musil, then. Very different beast. Best way I can describe it is sort of dense, rambling satire. 

I couldn't resist it and it is truly a brilliant piece of work, full of delightful aphorisms and fascinating philosophy.

Burton Pike's translation is just amazing.

[mjmooney]

4 hours ago, MakemineVanilla said:

I couldn't resist it and it is truly a brilliant piece of work, full of delightful aphorisms and fascinating philosophy.

Burton Pike's translation is just amazing.

Nearly halfway now, and I'm really struggling with it. I'm doing a chapter a night, more or less as a duty, before turning to something more compelling. Sorry, but it's dull and repetitive. 

I've read some reviews that describe it as capturing the atmosphere of Vienna in the last days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. For me, it does none of that. From reading it, you'd have no idea about the look of the city, café culture, Freud, Klimt and the Secession artists, ethnic conflicts, Mahler and Strauss, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, etc., etc. It was an absolutely fascinating time and place, but you wouldn't know it from Musil. To get all that, and more, try Frederic Morton's (nonfiction) 'Thunder at Twilight'. 

[MakemineVanilla]

58 minutes ago, mjmooney said:

Nearly halfway now, and I'm really struggling with it. I'm doing a chapter a night, more or less as a duty, before turning to something more compelling. Sorry, but it's dull and repetitive. 

I've read some reviews that describe it as capturing the atmosphere of Vienna in the last days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. For me, it does none of that. From reading it, you'd have no idea about the look of the city, café culture, Freud, Klimt and the Secession artists, ethnic conflicts, Mahler and Strauss, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, etc., etc. It was an absolutely fascinating time and place, but you wouldn't know it from Musil. To get all that, and more, try Frederic Morton's (nonfiction) 'Thunder at Twilight'. 

I would agree that it is not that at all.

I wish I had jotted down some of the best quotable bits, but there were just too many.