Books 10-12

I just realized that I shorted myself a book...

Book 10 should have been number 8. The title is Cradle to Cradle and it's a sort of "pop" environmentalism/consumerism book that I read for class. I consider it "pop" as opposed to academic because it is meant for the general reader, which is, in this case, a good thing. The book itself is waterproof and made from a synthetic material (no trees!) that can be recycled as a plastic. The content of the book pushes for a sort of harmony between industry and the environment that could lead to eco-friendly consumers' paradise. And while I don't necessarily condone such a result, I do agree with many of their assertions. For example, they urge manufacturers to consider not only what goes into a product but how the used product is disposed/recycled/returned to the earth. Seems easy enough, right?

Books 11 and 12 were Maurice Merleau-Ponty's The World of Perception and Saul Bellow's first novel, Dangling Man. The former is a transcript of a series of M-P's lectures that were broadcast on French radio in 1948. He's a phenomenologist and argues for a return to understanding the world through our senses rather than depending on science to describe the essence of things. Bellow's book relates to M-P in that it is written as a journal of a man who is out of work and waiting to be drafted into the army during WWII (hence the use of the word "dangling"). The protagonist, Joseph, is very much aware of the world around him and is constantly searching out the meaning of his existence, much like Roquentin in Sartre's Nausea.

I previously wrote that these sorts of tales don't sit well when one is in my current state of "waiting," but I take it back after reading Bellow. As always, he connects to a world that I know and don't know; a time and place (early mid-century Chicago) that I miss even having never experienced it. The feelings of his 28 year-old narrator are familiar and the depth of his (protagonist/author) knowledge make me envious.

At this pace I may get back on track by the end of the month. As always, we'll see.

Book Five

As I've begun to read much more academic writing, I'm developing the "active reading" habit of commenting on the pages, making it interactive. Often, and probably because I don't know any better, I tend to agree with the author so most of my marks are underlines, circles, or even exclamation points. I pen little notes in the margins so that when I come back, I can see what I was thinking at a particular time. However, whilst reading Le Corbusier's The City of To-Morrow and its Planning, which I just finished, I found myself writing things like "jackass", "fool" and "no!!"

I'd often heard his ideas for urban planning described as "skyscrapers in the park," which, in itself, didn't sound all that horrific to me. In fact, when thinking about density and open space in urban areas, it actually sounds okay (even though I became a dissenter after realizing that this would be death of the vibrant urban streetscape that makes cities exciting). But when this idea is coupled with arterial roads that are 400 feet wide and slice through existing cities, moving car traffic rapidly throughout, I lose all interest and start looking for rotten tomatoes to hurl.

Sure, his infrastructure plan calls for subways and commuter rail -- which sound a little better -- but this focus on cars as the future turns my stomach (and reminds me of a ridiculous fucking decision on the future of auto traffic in Seattle). In Corbu's defense, he did write his book 1925, when cars seemed like a pretty good idea, but the damage his ideas have done seems irreparable (Aurora Boulevard and I-5 slicing through Seattle both appear to be inspired by his writing).

The wonderful Jane Jacobs blames him (and Ebenzer Howard, the father of the 'burbs) for the destruction wrought on American cities and, so far, I think she's right.

I do agree with one of Corbu's ideas though: that people should live in buildings that are at a human scale and leave the skyscrapers for office space (if we're going to build them at all). He envisions housing blocks of six stories that are surrounded by open space, with trees aplenty, and towering skyscrapers spaced out in the distance beyond...I wouldn't say this is the answer, but the human scale part and the access to some open space sounds good.

I'll be writing a more academic version of this criticism tomorrow. I'll post it on my other site when it is finished.

See below for Corbu's vision of a modern Paris.

Book #4

I just finished Junot Diaz's Pulitzer Prize-winning The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao for book four of the the year. It's part sci-fi-comic-nerd, part Gabriel Garcia Marquez mystical realism, part Bildungsroman, all viewed from the point of view of a Dominican living in Jersey. Much narrator's dialogue will soon come across as dated (it's already distant for me) but he's learned and sincere and pulls you in to the story. Footnotes abound in the historical chapters and give you a sense for what kind of the place the DR was (how long ago, I'm not sure; I plead utter ignorance beyond what I have read in the last few days).

Diaz will be in Seattle a month from today for a lecture through Seattle Arts and Lectures. Maybe if I can scrape a few dollars together I'll be in attendance.