Arriving Late to the Alice in Borderland Party

For the first time ever, since January 2021, I've been a Netflix subscriber. Although I've discussed Netflix shows on here before, this new Netflixing is special because I have a treadmill, I use it a lot, and it's made me way too tired to discuss Netflix shows on this blog with any regularity.

Alice in Borderland just needs to be discussed, though. I watched four episodes of Season 1 on back-to-back days, marking a punishing three hours per day of treadmill.

If you're unfamiliar with the show, this trailer should give you an idea of what it's all about:

Arisu and friends find themselves in a mostly abandoned, dystopian vision of modern Tokyo. In order to extend their visas, they have to play - and win - potentially fatal games based on the draw of a card. Number is difficulty, as well as the number of days the visa is extended for all winners. Suit is the type of game: spades is a physical challenge, clubs is a team game, diamonds is a battle of wits, and hearts are games that pit the players against each other. It's The Running Man meets Saw.

Awesome show. Why discuss it now specifically, though?

I've read a lot of reviews, yet not once have I seen these discussion points: (quasi-spoilers, I suppose?)

1. Part of what makes Alice in Borderland so great is the one game per episode format. When the 10 of hearts game extends over the last three episodes, the show drags.
2. We need more diamonds! Only one diamond game came up, and it only lasted a couple minutes because most of Episode 5 is an explanation of the beach. Diamonds should theoretically be the most fun suit to watch.
3. The two hearts games are the only two games Arisu plays that are a 7 or higher, whereas all the other suits are only ever seen at a 5 or lower. (We never see a 6.) It would have been fascinating to see, say, a really difficult physical challenge. I presume we'll see this as one of the face cards in Season 2.
4. Dead or Alive may actually be the most difficult game. It's the only one that can be failed by all the participants so quickly and violently. I had to go back over it in a way I didn't with the other games. Arisu's spatial sense, awareness and quick thinking that'll keep him alive really shine in this one, which is fitting for the first episode.
5. Tag combines some of everything, despite being the only spades game so far: teamwork, physicality, the ability to betray people, and the need to solve a puzzle. It also introduces at least two recurring characters.
6. The botanical garden game is so full of red herrings I love it. Various online theories of how to save everyone aside, I really liked the "sheep chasing a wolf" angle, as well as the comically mismatched weapons that don't seem to have a purpose other than to make the players into worse people. Well, it is a hearts game...
7. The bus game is such a knee-slapper, which I don't like because it doesn't show Arisu at his best. I get that he was rattled by the aftermath of the botanical garden game, and that no one's perfect, but surely looking at the outside of the bus could have been foreseen.
8. Spoiler alert: I had always wanted to write a murder mystery that was actually a suicide, but never had the rest of the plot. Thanks, Alice in Borderland, for taking this story off my hands.
9. Alice in Borderland is just asking for fan fiction. Make your own games! Not to mention it'd be really easy to introduce a new character, as people pop up every so often.
10. Netflix has gone really international recently. In addition to Alice in Borderland, I've also seen other overseas productions recently, such as Nobody Sleeps in the Woods Tonight (Poland) and Mortal Engines (New Zealand). Also of note: RokuTV is going international too, including my recent watchings of Attack the Block (United Kingdom) and Metropolis (Germany).

On a less serious note, how was Stacey Q's "Two of Hearts" not on the soundtrack?

Bonus Book! The Comanche Empire

The Comanche Empire by Pekka Hämäläinen

History (2008 - 361 pp.)

The Comanche Empire was published the year I started my final year of my Bachelor of Arts in history and English. I don't usually open these entries by discussing myself, so here's why: one of my capstone history courses was a full-year seminar consisting of a book each week in the fall, culminating in a literature review, before an article-length paper in the winter. The course title? Europe and the Overseas World. Reading The Comanche Empire, I felt like I was back in Joyce Lorimer's class. Oh, how the time goes...

Pekka Hämäläinen's argument begins with a trend that was finding its way into mainstream historiography during the first decade of the 21st century: "Moving beyond conventional top-down narratives that depict Indians as bit players in imperial struggles or tragic victims of colonial expansion, today's scholarship portrays them as full-fledged historical actors who played a formative role in the making of early America." (6) I fully agree with this statement, for good (the Comanches' culture is worth commemorating) and for bad (the Comanches were notorious slave traders). The book spans the hundred years from the Spanish colonial era, to the newly independent Mexico, up to the Mexican-American War and the US Civil War, making it simultaneously a bible and a difficult read. From the slave fairs in Taos from 1742-1752, to the Comanches' early military disasters, (42-47) the Comanches would emerge stronger than ever, eventually holding a loose hegemony over what is now Texas and New Mexico.

As the eighteenth century advanced, Comancheria became more integrated with European colonial societies. The Comanches traded with Spain, France (Louisiana) and British West Florida, at times possessing greater economic and military resources than entire provinces of New Spain. (72) A Spanish governor of Texas was in shock at the Comanches' ability to acquire British and French horses, guns, and other items:

Domingo Cabello y Robles, governor of Texas, reported in the 1780s that western Comanches sold guns, powder, balls, lances, cloth, pans, and large knives to their eastern neighbors on the Texas plains, who in turn supplied western Comanches with horses and mules, some of which were then traded to Wichitas, Pawnees, Cheyennes, Kiowas, Kansas, and Iowas. Moreover, in a reversal of the typical roles of colonial trade, western Comanches started to sell guns and other manufactures to Spanish New Mexico. (73)

The Comanches' early alliance with the Utes helped them vanquish the rival Apaches. The other nations mentioned above turned into crucial trading partners, forming the linchpins of an indigenous international relations system in some ways comparable to the long-distance game being played by the European powers. The "open field" in the American West, nominally Spanish and then Mexican but falling increasingly into Comanche hands, saw the ascent of the Comanche Empire in c. 1793. (140)

The Comanches were rarely victims, most often firmly in control of their destinies, much to the chagrin of the nascent Mexican state. Historical maps can deceive, because they do not always show effective control; Pekka points out that the nominally massive newly independent Mexico was so unable to stop Comanche raids that the Comanches wrecked the Mexican economy. When Mexico attempted to have Americans settle Texas and New Mexico, Stephen F. Austin complained to the Mexican government that peace with the Comanches was impossible because the norteamericano settlements were undefended and easily raided for heir horses. (194) By the time of the Mexican-American War, American soldiers frequently remarked that the Mexican lands they proceeded through were desolate. Many of those soldiers followed Comanche guides.

The Comanches' decline went hand in hand with the settling of the American West by more permanent, less nomadic settlers. Comanches followed bison, rode horses, and generally did not farm as much as their American counterparts. The tributary Spanish and Mexicans were replaced by farms: "But by the 1820s, the traditional raiding domains had become either exhausted or unavailable. Decades of on-and-off pillaging had wrecked the pastoral economy of Texas, whereas New Mexico, the site of intense raiding in the 1760s and 1770s, had attached itself to Comancheria through a tribute relationship." (223) 

The Comanche Empire was as multifaceted as any other. It was political (chieftains), geographic (nomadic, fuzzy borders), faunal (extremely horse-based since their first acquisition of horses from the Spanish), economic (trade relations with sedentary nations, e.g.: Apaches, and with various colonial powers), and social (importance of rituals). It was a lot of information to take in for someone who didn't have a background in the field. Luckily, I knew enough general American history to be able to become conversant quickly. I also had the skills I needed, from my undergraduate seminar courses, to be able to absorb unfamiliar material.

The Comanche Empire won Columbia University's prestigious Bancroft Prize in 2009. As an Ivy  League alumnus who lives part-time near Bancroft, Ontario, I couldn't help but smile.

Ease of Reading: 4

Educational Content: 10

February's Book: The Great Unknown

The Great Unknown by Marcus du Sautoy

Math/Physics (2016 - 428 pp.)

"How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from minute to another." -Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland* (153)

In The Great Unknown, Oxford University mathematics professor Marcus du Sautoy outlines seven of the greatest questions in math and science that may never be solved. Between his introduction and his conclusion, there are seven "edges" of our current scientific understanding: Chaos, Matter, Quantum Physics, The Universe, Time, Consciousness, Infinity. The seven edges overlap in some of the scientists named,** as well as in framing devices used (such as du Sautoy's trusty red casino dice), but each tackles the boundaries of a different question as it has advanced through the history of scientific research. Du Sautoy readily admits his own blind spots, as must we all; in the introduction, he states that "I must admit that the arrogance of youth infused me with the belief that I could understand all that was known...", but then, as he has grown older, "Time is running out to know it all." (7) As someone almost a decade removed from my master's degree, I identify with that feeling.

Much of "Chaos" considers the early modern giants of math. Girolamo Cardano, a noted Lombardian mathematician of the 16th century, was "an inveterate gambler" (24) who spent much of his time devising strategies to win at dice games,*** (with mixed results, much to his family's chagrin) before correctly predicting his death date, in quasi-Machine of Death style. The origin of Pascal's triangle as a betting aid is less of a surprise when viewed through this lens, as its original application was to decide how a pot should be divided when the problem of points is incomplete; (28) in an inspired moment during 11th-grade math, I invented Gordon's Triangle, which provides far less insight.

Rows 0-7 of Pascal's Triangle, from Wikipedia. Note that each number is the sum of the two numbers directly above it.

In "Matter", the world's atomic, and even subatomic, building blocks comes to life, whizzing around and through each other with such startling speed we don't even notice them. Du Sautoy explains the development of particle theory, from 19th-century descriptions of atoms, followed by subsequent understandings of what makes atoms heavier than others (protons, neutrons), what orbits them (electrons), and what all of those are made of (quarks). Dmitri Mendeleev's part-discovery, part-invention of the periodic table (87) figures large here, including the use of octave theory to explain why elements repeat each other every eight atomic numbers, a recurring trend in The Great Unknown: what fills the gaps? Just as irrational numbers fill gaps between rational numbers, as in the case of the square root of 2, Mendeleev's discovery of the absence of an element with an atomic number of 31 inspired the later discovery of gallium. I have to disagree with du Sautoy's cello/trumpet metaphor to explain the duelling schools of thought regarding whether matter is continuous, like a cello's glissando, or discrete, like a trumpet's staccato. (119) As a classical and jazz trained trumpet player, I have played series of notes lasting 4+ bars when I tongued only two or three notes, despite playing entire scales at various volumes.

In "Quantum Physics", du Sautoy delves into realms that intimidate the average reader but are full of charming stories here. During Albert Einstein's annus mirabilis of 1905, he conducted significant amounts of work on photons; this, not the theory of relativity, would be the subject of his 1921 Nobel Prize. The question of whether light moves in waves or in quasi-particles stumped scientists until then. Du Sautoy makes the colourful analogy that waves would be like a series of taps on the shoulder, each incapable of knocking down the recipient, whereas a particle would be like one good push. (133-135) Oddly, a scientifically inclined friend brought this up during elementary school by asking me on the school bus one day, "would you rather receive a million taps on the shoulder or receive one huge tap with all the force of them combined?" I thought it was a silly question while having no idea he was (unintentionally?) quoting Einstein.

In "The Universe", du Sautoy educates the reader on all manners of cosmological bodies, including the fascinating observation that stars appear to be different colours and brightnesses depending on their distances. Measuring between them therefore requires a combination of trigonometry and colour theory - score one for art class? The 1915 sighting of Proxima Centauri, the closest star to our own, by Scottish astronomer Robert Innes, (192) is one of my favourite discoveries; he had the same name as one of my friends. Fittingly, beyond this edge, "Time", "Consciousness" and "Infinity" start collapsing into themselves...

Illustrations abound in The Great Unknown. Two of my favourites are ones that were either familiar to me in concept, or familiar to me as in I had seen that exact illustration before. The latter is when du Sautoy shows the mathematical underpinning of human existence via the xkcd comic "Purity", (332) which surely connects with the Millennial crowd (full disclosure: I am a Millennial). The former is when du Sautoy demonstrates the limitation of Euclidean geometry to flat plane. Those of us who have studied any level of math take for granted that the sum of a triangle's angles is 180 degrees, but this axiom no longer holds true when the measurements take place on a curved surface. The best example of all is when a triangle is drawn on a sphere. (381) The ability to draw line segments and polygons on a sphere is crucial to navigation, flight paths, and nearly anything involving the curvature of Earth. This seemingly obtusely abstract concept is so obviously applicable to everyday life it is a testament to scientific education.

Back to dice: in the conclusion, du Sautoy mentions that there is a finite number of six-sided dice in his house, between his casino dice, his Monopoly set, and wherever else there might be dice, including stuck in the couch. He mentions that he does not know whether there is an odd or even number of dice, although he could find out if he wanted to count them. (418-419) This scenario made me reflect on du Sautoy's earlier observation of what might happen if he rolled a die (or threw magazines) into a black hole, beyond the event horizon, so that its result would be completely unknowable to him. (282) What if, as in the black hole example of the particles bouncing off the event horizon containing some aspect of the die, du Sautoy took his real-life dice and ground them into dust? Reassembling the particles would be practically impossible, and measuring dice powder on a scale could be defeated simply by wetting the dice into a sort of dice sludge, so... could du Sautoy theoretically know how many dice he has then?

The one thing I would have liked to see more of in The Great Unknown is a one-paragraph definition of the Riemann hypothesis and the PORC conjecture, two unsolved mathematical problems du Sautoy hints at many times near the end of the book but never explores. While I understand they are more useful as stand-ins than as illustrations of the book's ideas, their sheer complexity would have benefited from the book's clear, accessible language.

The world during, and since, The Great Unknown's release in 2016 contains themes present in the book. When du Sautoy frames the relationship between acceleration, gravity and time by using a thought experiment that sends one of his twin daughters into space at near-lightspeed while the other stays on Earth: "Ina returns younger because she has to accelerate to get to her constant speed." (264) This is an almost exact telling of the 2014 science fiction movie Interstellar, in which a father engages on a potentially Earth-saving interstellar mission while his daughter stays home; later in the movie, they are the same age. (Warning: movie spoiler!) The movie was released the year before the book's publication, making me wonder if du Sautoy read it while writing. Even more recently, Isaac Newton's isolation during the Great Plague of 1665,**** at age 22, marked the moment when many of his theories' seeds were planted in his head. (32) As someone currently in a jurisdiction with an emergency order due to COVID-19, but who hasn't felt particularly brilliant for much of that time... I hope someone's working on zeta functions as I write this.

Lastly, there's a great deal of material on scientists' and philosophers' beliefs in God, or lack thereof. How would God construct a black hole? Has God planned out the past, present and future, or does he "reset his watch" at certain intervals? All I have to say to these math plus science plus God questions is what The Great Unknown reminds us of our infinitesimal selves all the time: I don't know, and you don't either.

Ease of Reading: 5

Educational Content: 8

*In 18th-century novel style, du Sautoy opens each edge (chapter) with a quotation from some scientific or literary figure who has influenced our understanding of the unknown. Who better than Lewis Carroll, who wrote the most famous fiction book ever that was about abstract math? (I've blogged about Alice on here not once, but twice. No, not the heavy metal Alice.)

**For example, Albert Einstein is mentioned during the third edge for his work on photonics, and the fifth edge for his theory of general relativity.

***This Columbia University article contains a probability chart of rolling a total of 9-12 with three dice on page 5, Table 1. A similar chart appears in The Great Unknown at page 25.

****The Great Plague of 1665 differs from our present conundrum in that it was an outbreak of bubonic plague, the same bacterium that caused the Black Death and subsequent outbreaks. That said, there was an October 2020 news report using the bubonic plague as a case study, and a teenage Mongolian boy died of bubonic plague last July.

January's Book: The Poisoner's Handbook

The Poisoner's Handbook by Deborah Blum

Journalism (2010 - 278 pp.)

The Poisoner's Handbook takes the reader to the earliest incarnation of public health in New York City, from the creation of the Chief Medical Examiner's office, to Prohibition and its related ills, to a number of high-profile criminal cases. Interspersed with the human interest stories are vivid descriptions of the various elements and compounds used as poisons, each with at least one chapter named for it. The more I read, the more I felt like this was an eerie book to be reading during a pandemic.

Blum is a professor of science journalism, not a historian, so The Poisoner's Handbook reads more like a series of true crime stories* than like an academic monograph. This presentation style keeps the book reading as quickly as an airport novel while being more interesting and far more educational. Journalistic flourishes follow characters' presumed inner thoughts or scenes where their capers may have been set; the quasi-biography of Charles Norris, NYC's first Chief Medical Examiner, reads like a Lost Generation novel: "He left for home with mist gathering on the river behind him and the cobalt sky of evening deepening to black." (223) The sensational retelling of the infamous Ruth Snyder case, which I had heard of before reading, is accompanied by the photo of her in the electric chair. (165-174)

Norris weaves in and out of the book's loose storyline. The originally political position of coroner had attracted such incompetence and turnover that Norris was horrified at the laziness in pronouncement of deaths: "But 'more than probable' was hardly a professional opinion, Norris said." (35) Norris pioneered the meticulous tracking of causes of death at a time when medical examiners were extremely sloppy, to the point that Frederic Mors, a poisoner working in an old-age home, was able to stuff the residents full of chloroform almost completely undetected. (25) If NYC started the 20th century in dire straits, though, Blum makes sure to let the reader know how persistently Norris sought his goals: "But full-time leisure didn't suit Norris. He was happiest with a cause to fight for, a challenge to overcome." (221) This was even so when he expressed difficulty gathering $10 of public funding and a city car; the idea of a Chief Medical Examiner not having use of a car would be unthinkable to us now.

More exotic poisons like cyanide and thallium make later appearances. Most cyanide deaths were either suicide or accident, including hydrogen cyanide gas leaks during fumigations. One high-profile gas leak killed a couple staying in a hotel that was being fumigated. Thallium is a stunning element, bright, leafy green when exposed in a chemical test, but did not appear to be used as a frequent murder weapon, despite being "colorless, odorless, and tasteless." (254)

While the mercury and radium chapters are interesting for the science nerds in all of us, they don't contain much crime. Neither appears to be practical as a murder weapon; mercury is too obvious, and radium takes too long. Arsenic, by contrast, was such an early favourite among murderers that Alexander Gettler, the Hungarian-American scientist responsible for much of the Chief Medical Examiner's early research, devoted much to his time to arsenic testing, such as in the murder of Charles Avery. (94-96) The Mary Creighton conviction, for murder committed by way of Rough on Rats, brought arsenic into the spotlight again.

One thing that surprised me was the book's almost complete lack of mention of Calvin Coolidge, who surfaces only once. (124) "The federal government" as an entity is discussed plenty, and then Herbert Hoover is discussed in particular, calling Prohibition "the noble experiment"** before ducking to the Belgian embassy for a glass of wine. (157) I emerged from The Poisoner's Handbook having no clue what Silent Cal thought of Prohibition, although his mild opposition toward it is not very exciting subject matter. Blum may have simply thought the wood-alcohol-induced death of Mike Malloy was more entertaining subject matter - and she would probably be right.

A criticism any historical book is known to receive is, "How is this applicable in the present day?" Although history and its offshoots contain more contemporary usefulness than the cynics among us suspect, in The Poisoner's Handbook, the usefulness faces the reader head-on. The chapter on carbon monoxide poisoning includes in-depth descriptions of poisoning symptoms, which are invariably useful in a world full of smoke detectors. Prohibition, in turn, caused an uptick in contaminated goods, sometimes intentionally on the parts of governments; this is analogous to the whopping 91% contamination rate among illegal opioids in British Columbia. What is amazing to us now is that Prohibition was a largely bipartisan effort, with the House of Representatives vote coming down with essentially two-thirds support on each side. It would have been nice to see bipartisanism for more productive pursuits than Prohibition, but hey, at least Canada's prime minister and premiers coordinated their pandemic responses and electric vehicle strategy somewhat.

2020 was the first year in recent memory when I didn't get to go to the United States, thanks to the pandemic and the related emergency orders. As someone who hasn't been to NYC since 2011, it was nice to go there in spirit.

Ease of Reading: 8

Educational Content: 8

*See, for example, Erik Larson's Devil in the White City, Richard Zacks's Island of Vice, or Max Haines's True Crime Stories.

**I suppose this is the inspiration for The Noble Experiment winery in Ontario. It's a fun name, but understandably tongue-in-cheek, as I doubt local winemakers consider Prohibition to be noble at all.

Bonus Book! Master of the Five Magics

Happy New Year 2021! Here's one last entry for this crazy 2020. What better than a classic fantasy novel with a pop culture twist? More metaphysical thoughts can wait until January.

----

Master of the Five Magics by Lyndon Hardy

Fantasy (1980* - 397 pp.)

Lyndon Hardy's Master of the Five Magics is a buried gem: first published by Del Rey in 1980, fallen out of print despite having a substantial following, only to finally see its second edition unearthed in 2016. Its hero, Alodar, is the son of disgraced nobles who proves himself in all five arts - thaumaturgy, alchemy, magic, sorcery, wizardry - to become the leading suitor to Queen Vendora. Unlike the trope of a quest being forced on a reluctant hero, Alodar is so proactive the other characters frequently attempt to stop him from achieving his goals for his own safety - but Alodar is determined.

Hardy's explanations of the five magics, what identifies and differentiates them, and how Alodar learns them, could be the subject of a trilogy.** Each of the book's first five parts is named after a magic art Alodar learns, until the final part, "The Archimage",*** which explains what Alodar has become by learning all of them. Only through using  the five magics, plus whatever other tools Alodar has at his disposal, can he repel a demonic invasion that comes closer and closer as the story advances. Hardy has broken down all six parts, 18th-century style, into chapters so short it is almost impossible to finish reading one without starting the next. 

The maxims of the magics are reflections of the difficulty Alodar has learning them. For example, when Cedric the Warmaster challenges Alodar to reproduce an alchemical potion, Alodar explains that "Using exactly the same ingredients in the same formulas does not necessarily produce identical results". (102) Sorcery's emphasis on removing the mind from the body is invaluable in a way other genres, like science fiction or any genre involving mysticism, would involve without any attempt at magic. Through the clues Alodar receives, in the form of a magic script, orbs and an artifact, he progresses through these lessons, much like a gentleman scientist learning sequentially more difficult areas of math.

The language in Master of the Five Magics is intentionally archaic, making the book surprisingly difficult to read at times yet in a way that fits the story perfectly. As Alodar finds understanding of the story his life tells, the reads finds understanding of the story Hardy writes. A line like "Thinking more rapidly than he thought possible, he worked the equations to produce four non-equivalent variations" (212) explains the workings of magic (including magic squares) well, but is tiring to read after a while. This is in stark contrast to the action scenes, which Hardy zips like an action movie, making me wish this were a movie. In "The Thaumaturge", Alodar and Aeriel have to escape a ruined castle: "Alodar's muscles tensed. His breathing turned to shallow gasps. Run, run, take the only chance that you have, his body said." (65) This may not seem like the most heroic passage, but much of the book consists of Alodar being humbled into greatness. Once Alodar has learned all five magics, he must battle demons: "Lightning flashed. Deafening thunder cracked through the air. As Handar reached Alodar's side, a cloudlet formed over the blaze." (317) Then there is the final battle, which is the highlight of the book, but who would dare spoil that?

Master of the Five Magics' enduring influence on pop culture extended into the '90s. In 1990, Megadeth released "Five Magics", a song blatantly based on the book, with certain changes made as artistically warranted:

In addition to this song, which made the rounds on my teenage-era CD players too many times to count, there's the enduring influence on Magic: the Gathering. Richard Garfield repeatedly cited Hardy as the inspiration for having five colours of mana, five different magics, in Magic. That paradigm has persisted to this day. You can see the colour wheel, of five different colours (magics), on every single card:

The lag in securing the second edition is one of the book's faults. Hardy had to self-publish it; I do not know who his editor was, but there are a few typographical errors (e.g.: "Aeriel" clearly autocorrected to "Aerial") and the Wikipedia links in the glossary are islands. The Times New Roman text reads like it came straight from Microsoft Word. The cover has a basic Microsoft Word font on it. By contrast, the cover of the first edition looks like what Master of the Five Magics is: the dawn of the classic '80s fantasy novel. On the plus side, the back matter contains an interview with Hardy in which he explains his thought process behind the creation of the laws of the magic, a novel concept for the time. It's like listening to a Venom album: while the source material is good, you know the best was yet to come.

Now for a lyric from "Five Magics" that may sum up Master of the Five Magics without spoiling it:

Magic if you please

Master all of these

Bring him to his knees

Ease of Reading: 6

Educational Content: 2

*I am reviewing the 2016 edition, but the original release date remains important considering the influence the book had.

**There were two later books with different characters and the same magic system, but they are largely forgotten. The point is that the subject matter of Master of the Five Magics could have easily filled three books.

***In order:

"The Thaumaturge" 

"The Alchemist" 

"The Magician" 

"The Sorcerer" 

"The Wizard" 

"The Archimage" 

Merry Christmas 2020 with an Album to Show!

Merry Christmas 2020!

It's been a trying year, but here are a few of Toronto's greatest shots, all courtesy of me: https://myalbum.com/album/4ACpSvxmseGY

Arguably the most iconic. Casa Loma on March 5, 2020, less than two weeks before the city would see an unprecedented lockdown.

Which is your favourite picture?

December's Book: 4 3 2 1

4 3 2 1 by Paul Auster

Fantasy (2017 - 866 pp.)

Astoundingly, 4 3 2 1 is the first novel by Paul Auster I've discussed on this blog, and the first of his I've read in fifteen years. After being assigned his fantastic 1987 dystopian novel In the Country of Last Things as an undergraduate English student in 2005, and recommending it ever since, I somehow managed to evade the rest of his lengthy literary career until now. Why, I have no idea. Whereas In the Country of Last Things reminds me of 1984 and Brave New World, 4 3 2 1 reads more like Barney's Version. For an author to have that breadth of writing, from the chillingly dark to the heartwarmingly hilarious, is almost unheard of.

4 3 2 1 begins on Ellis Island, as so many stories of American immigrant families do. Auster's invented family, ex-Russian-Empire Jews who eventually land in New York City and New Jersey, resemble so many other families of the first half of the twentieth century... until Archie Ferguson* comes along. From that point, 4 3 2 1 follows four different paths Archie's life could have taken, from his birth on March 3, 1947** until the dawn of the 1970s. From a topsy-turvy childhood in the 1950s, to growing into LBJ/Vietnam-era political activism in the 1960s, Archie develops as a writer and student, sometime lover of various people,*** and conflicted family member, in four distinctly different ways.

Slotting 4 3 2 1 into a genre is of considerable difficulty. If you accept that there is some sort of multiverse theory at work, it is arguably science fiction. If you handwave the reasoning behind the different lives, it can be Night Circus-style low fantasy. If you truly do not care why Archie has these four storylines but simply enjoy Auster's sharp sense of humour, 4 3 2 1 is pure comedy.

Archie's timelines go back to the age-old question we all ask at various points in our lives: if I had made an important life decision differently, who would I be now? Archie's circumstances and decisions change drastically, from whether Amy Schneiderman is his girlfriend, his friend, or neither; which school he attends (Princeton or Columbia: not a bad set of options!); or even something as monumental as the duration of his young life. As I have explained using a decision tree, this is an insightful way to craft a character, seeing through the eyes of who that person could have become at any given time. Auster dumps four of those stories on the table, providing the hook for 4 3 2 1, making the reader think back to so many important life events. Like many a New York City-based writer, Archie never becomes a Republican: is this real life writing the plot?

4 3 2 1's best scenes are dramatic, comedic, or both. Auster packs 47 years of Ferguson family history/lore into the introduction, (1-29) which comprises the first 3.35% of the book; some of 4 3 2 1's most charming moments, all squashed together. Auster's description of a young Archie braving a rainstorm at Camp Paradise is one of the best uses of pathetic fallacy - a lightning strike - I have read in recent years. (184) Archie's early literary forays are described in detail, some with excerpts, such as the cute "Sole Mates", but the most all-encompassing is "Right, Left, or Straight Ahead?" (492) In that story, the protagonist Lazlo Flute takes three different paths at a key crossroad, much like Archie does in 4 3 2 1, much like Archie's writing (he's always a writer) is so drastically different in his four storylines. On a less introspective note, college humour takes the form of Archie and his roommate creating fictional character tennis matches, which, naturally, descends into a Dick Diver joke, (586) as 1930s fiction wasn't that old in the late '60s.

For all its emotional directions, 4 3 2 1 drags. It clocks in at an estimated 320,885 words, making it approximately thrice the length of a typical book in its genre. Its 866 pages move quickly, but Archie's girlfriends in different timelines often blur together, making the reader pause to wonder whether all their lovers from ages 19-22 were really just different varieties of student. When the storylines share common events, notably the political tumult of the 1960s, two of those storylines become almost interchangeable.^ Then there is the interminable obsession with sex: I don't recall my teens and early twenties being dominated by sexual thoughts, so is this simply how Archie sees himself? Lastly, the ending is unsatisfying, which after that much inkshed^^ feels as though the reader is being robbed. Without spoiling the book, the ending is abrupt, at an age when Archie's story is just beginning, and contains a "gotcha!" moment that arguably changes the book's genre.

How would I finish this entry? Ikh hob fargessen!^^^

Ease of Reading: 6

Educational Content: 2

*They are Jewish and their last name is Ferguson. This is explained in detail in the book.

**Paul Auster was born on February 3, 1947. The vividness of the current events discussion in 4 3 2 1 lends credence to the idea that, even if the book isn't semi-autobiographical, Auster was very much inspired by the events of his youth.

***Exactly who Archie loves depends on the storyline.

^I am not alone in this observation. On Goodreads, one reader went so far as to use four different-coloured Post-It notes for the four storylines.

^^Like bloodshed but with ink.

^^^When you read the first page of 4 3 2 1, you will understand this reference.