Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The impact of technology

"Totally amazing," she continues. "Best meeting ever. Completely ... structured. You know exactly what's happening all the time. Everybody brings a laptop --"

"Do people even look at one another?"

"Not really. Everything that matters is on your screen."
Robin Sloan, Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore

It's no secret that technology has changed our lives in profound ways. Here are three of them that fall within the scope of this blog.

1. Loss of eye contact.

The character in Robin Sloan's novel is describing a meeting at Google, where she works, but business meetings aren't much different wherever one may work. Everyone brings their phones, tablets or laptops and spends as much time looking at them as at whomever might be speaking. Much the same thing occurs when people gather at restaurants, churches, concerts, parties and picnics.

One of the most memorable passages in the Sebastian Faulks novel A Week in December describes numerous people crossing a bridge in London at the same time, all of them looking at their phones or talking into their phones, none of them seemingly aware of anyone else on the bridge except as an obstacle to get around.

Alternate forms of communication have existed for many years. We've been able to write letters, send telegrams, make phone calls and, more recently, send e-mails. Yet until recently these have always been considered poor substitutes for old-fashioned face-to-face conversation. Yet more and more, even when people are together in the same room, they don't actually look at one another.

2. Our rewired brains

Michael S. Rosenwald, in the Washington Post article I mentioned a couple of days ago, writes that the more time we spend reading on the Web, the more difficulty we have focusing on printed material. That's because on the Web we tend to skim through the material, looking for key words and ideas and ignoring everything else. Then when we try to read a book or a newspaper or magazine article, we may not be able to concentrate on it.

Rosenwald tells of a 31-year-old financial analyst who realized he had missed several keys points in a novel he had been reading. "Then it hit him: He had been scanning for information about one aspect of the book, just as he might scan for one fact on his computer screen, where he spends much of his day.

"'When you try to read a novel,' he said, 'it's almost like were not built to read them anymore, as bad as that sounds.'"

This poses a significant challenge for educators, who in a sense must try to teach their students to read all over again. But the challenge is there for all of us who use computers but also like to read away from a screen. We need to practice so they we do not lose those reading skills we worked so hard to gain back in elementary school.

3. The rights of authors

Last fall Google won dismissal of a lawsuit filed by authors objecting to the company's digitally copying  their books, without permission, for an online library. The decision was a blessing for researchers and other Web users who might like to read portions of these books without actually having to buy the books. Yet authors can be justified in wondering what their copyrights actually mean.

Monday, April 14, 2014

In defense of audiobooks

When you read a book, the story definitely happens inside your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes.
Robin Sloan, Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore

The narrator of Robin Sloan's novel describes his reaction the first time he listens to an audiobook. I don't get it.

I have been listening to books, first on tape and later on CDs, for years. I am rarely without one in my car. While I agree there are certain differences inherent in reading books as opposed to listening to them being read by somebody else, I have never noticed a lack of immediacy in the latter. In either case, the story happens inside my head, not in a little cloud around it.

So what differences do I find? First, there are the practical concerns. With audiobooks, it can be very difficult to go back and "reread" a particular passage. It's tough enough if it's just the previous paragraph you missed because of a distraction, but if it's something in a previous chapter, it's just too much trouble to bother. I like to take notes when I read, marking down page numbers where key characters are introduced, where passages are beautifully written or where some information is found I might want to refer to later. This just can't be done with audiobooks, especially while driving a car.

The best audiobooks, at least for me, are either books I have read before in the traditional way and want to revisit, books so easy I am not likely to even want to take notes or books so difficult I would rather have somebody else read so I can just listen. The first and third of these qualities were true when I listened to Lolita last year. I had read the novel for an English course back in the 1960s, so I knew it to be a great book, but not an easy one to read. So I let Jeremy Irons do the work, and I just enjoyed Vladimir Nabokov's glorious prose. I'm sure I missed something -- with Nabokov, you are bound to miss something no matter how you read him -- but I thought I also gained something hearing, as it were, Humbert Humbert tell his own story. (Irons played Humbert in the 1997 film version of the novel.) In this case, at least, I thought the audiobook was more immediate than the printed version.

All of us listened to stories before we learned to read them by ourselves. We heard children's stories read by parents, teachers or babysitters. We also heard our parents tell stories about their experiences at the end of the day around the dinner table. Humanity as a whole listened to stories long before the invention of either writing or printing. As Michael S. Rosenwald wrote in a recent Washington Post article, "The brain was not designed for reading." Mankind learned first to listen, then to read.

The suggestion in Sloan's novel that audiobooks are somehow inferior to printed books seems a bit strange. It also seems ironic when you notice the ad for the CD version of the novel at the end of the paperback

Friday, April 11, 2014

A riveting, if unbelievable, tale

Michael Hiebert's 2013 mystery Dream with Little Angels has just about everything going for it but believability. It's got all the suspense one could want in a mystery, plus humor, charm and nice writing. Hiebert tells a good coming-of-age story. Once started, the book truly is hard to put down.

Trouble is, one of the things that makes the novel so compelling, it's 11-year-old narrator, is what makes it a bit hard to swallow. Abe Teal is the son of a small-town police officer trying to find a serial killer who kidnaps and abuses teenage girls before leaving their bodies to be found. Her husband died when Abe was still a baby, and now Leah Teal struggles to raise him and his older sister, scads of trouble now that she has discovered boys, while trying to catch a murderer whose first victim died 12 years before.

One can understand Leah being protective of her kids, but would any police officer really take an 11-year-old to crime scenes? Would she allow him to be present for interviews? And what are the chances the kid would turn out to be a better detective than the detective?

The trick in reading Dream with Little Angels is simply to accept that strange things happen (odd behaviors do happen all the time) and accept the novel for what it is, a riveting good story.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The plural you

There are, believe it or not, languages where pronouns vary only for person but not number, such that I and we are the same word, he, she, and they are the same word, and as such, singular and plural you are the same word. For some reason this tends to be in Indonesia and New Guinea. But for it to be this way only with the second person? Odd, and, again, illogical, inconsistent, unpretty.
John McWhorther, Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue

Back in the 1980s I served on a committee charged with finding an associate pastor for our church. Our choice was a lovely young woman with degrees from Swarthmore and Harvard Divinity School. One thing that puzzled me about Connie was her frequent use of the phrase "you all." She did not speak with a drawl, yet this phrase still made her sound as though she were raised in Georgia, not eastern Pennsylvania.

Connie came to mind after reading John McWhorter's comments quoted above. Was she, like so many other English speakers, simply uncomfortable with using the pronoun you as a plural? The word sounds to our ears like it refers to just one person, not two or more. The plural you is, as McWhorter puts it,illogical, inconsistent and unpretty. So many of us find alternatives.

In the South, you all or y'all is favored. Elsewhere in the country, you guys serves the same purpose, but without the charm. In Florida this winter I heard you guys much more than y'all. This could be because so many people in Florida are transplanted from elsewhere, but it could also mean that you guys is spreading. Even older women, who once hated to be referred to as you guys, now use the term themselves.

You might also hear you lot (common in Britain), you-uns, yinz (Pittsburgh area) or youse or youse guys.

We all tend to repeat the language we hear everyday, but I do hope Connie, who last I heard was serving a church in Virginia, is still saying you all, not you guys.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Pint-sized secret agents

The very best literature for children appeals equally, or almost equally, to adult readers. I'm thinking of books like Alice in Wonderland, Charlotte's Web and the Dr. Seuss books. I was over 18 when I read both Winnie-the-Pooh and the Narnia books, and I loved them. I still read children's books from time to time, and when I do I judge them not on how I think a child might like them but rather on how I like them. At the very least I judge them according to what might have appealed to me when I was at a particular book's target age.

Nick and Tesla's Secret Agent Gadget Battle by "Science Bob" Pflugfelder and Steve Hockensmith (2014) does not pretend to be great literature. It's just a comic adventure tale for kids nine and over. I give it a mixed grade. At times I got caught up in the story, finding the comedy genuine and the mystery truly suspenseful. At other time it seemed dull and repetitious, as if the authors were just filling pages until they could legitimately move on to the exciting climax.

The book, the second in a series, concerns twins named Nick and Tesla, who are staying with their batty Uncle Newt while their parents are away on a secret mission. They suspect that someone hanging around the house is really a spy, and they are determined to discover who it might be. They have a number of suspects.

I would not be surprised if my grandson, about to turn 10, reacts as I did when he reads the book, which I hope he will do. I think he'll love the instructions on how to build a fingerprint kit and a secret code wheel, among other gadgets contributed by Pflugfelder. I know those kinds of things would have thrilled me when I was 10, whether I actually would have built the gadgets or not. I think, too, he will laugh at the funny bits Hockensmith, author of the Holmes on the Range mysteries, brings to the book.

I just hope he doesn't get bored and give up on the book before it gets interesting again, as I was tempted to do. Young readers aren't really that different from older ones. They like stories, such as Winnie-the-Pooh, that stay fun all the way through.

Friday, April 4, 2014

Baby steps

Lately readers have begun to complain about my short chapters, although in my opinion there is no particular reasons why a chapter should be long.
Larry McMurtry, Hollywood

The above sentences takes up three lines in the 26th chapter of Larry McMurtry's memoir about his many years writing screenplays for Hollywood and writing novels that Hollywood turned into movies. The entire 26th chapter runs to just six lines.

The book itself takes just 146 pages but has 60 chapters. You can do the math. I made Hollywood my lunchtime book for a brief while. Sometimes I could read an entire chapter between bites. I loved it. Like McMurtry, I favor books with short chapters.

The author explains his short chapters like this, to quote the third sentence of his three-sentence 26th chapter: "In fact I am old and there are very many subjects about which I have something to say -- just not much." Perhaps advancing age explains my own preference for short chapters, but I don't think so. I favored them even in my youth.

The other night I watched yet again the old Bill Murray comedy What About Bob? He plays a man who has great difficulty just leaving his own apartment, let alone coming into contact with other people. His new doctor (Richard Dreyfuss) gives him a copy of his new book, Baby Steps, which urges people like Bob to think in terms of baby steps. Think only as far as the next step. After that step, focus on the next. You can go far just taking one small step after another.

I feel that way about reading books, especially long books. Short chapters break the text down into baby steps. Instead of thinking about the 500-page biography or novel that lies before me, I think just about the next chapter. The shorter that chapter is, the easier it seems to start reading and keep reading. I found this true again recently when reading Donna Tartt's massive novel The Goldfinch, which is 771 pages long. It has only 12 chapters, but each chapter is broken down into numerous subchapters, some of them not much longer than McMurtry's chapter 26. I think the novel would have been much harder to read if it had only those 12 chapters, each more than 50 pages long.

It's not just short chapters that make reading easier. Short paragraphs and short sentences also help. In  the newspaper business, where I devoted my career, keeping paragraphs brief, rarely more than two or three sentences, is considered mandatory to improve readability. Copy editors also often divide long sentences into two shorter ones for the same reason.

A college professor once reviewed a book manuscript of mine (never published). One of her main complaints was that my paragraphs were too short. In academia, of course, long paragraphs are the rule, but I came out of journalism, where the focus lies on brevity. Larry McMurtry probably would have agreed with me. His six-line chapter 26 has three paragraphs, one for each sentence.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Surprises from Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry has written more memoirs than most people have written letters home. I have just finished reading Hollywood (2010), the third of his literary memoirs, but he has written at least two other books, Paradise and Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen, that might be termed memoirs, as well. As sketchy as these books are, the 77-year-old writer may still have a few more memoirs left to write.

In Hollywood, his recollections of his many years as a scriptwriter, McMurtry makes the surprising, at least to me, comment that he works "harder at screenwriting than I do at fiction -- fiction comes to me easily, and scripts don't. I have to work at them; they're a craft I've only partly mastered -- the character part." Much of McMurtry's fiction, like his memoirs, has an easy-going style, as if it were just poured onto a page. Even so, I would have thought any serious novel would be more difficult to write than any screenplay. True, scripts are often written by committee, with the director getting the final say about what actually goes into the movie, which must be frustrating for any scriptwriter. But this doesn't appear to be what McMurtry is talking about.

Elsewhere in the book he recalls that after a heart attack in the 1990s, "I could write fiction, which doesn't really require a clear mind: it's a semivisceral experience ... No one can write screenplays in this trancelike state." Fiction doesn't require a clear mind? That seems revealing. I would love to hear other novelists comment on this observation. Is this why so many writers thrive in the party atmosphere of Key West? (See my March 20 post, "Key West literary tour.")

McMurtry says he's grateful to Hollywood because "it's essentially financed my fiction, my rare book business, and, to a huge degree, my adult life." Besides, he confesses, he just loves Hollywood and numbers actress Diane Keaton among his best friends. He hates movie sets, however, and makes a point to avoid them. Speaking of directors, he writes, "the kindest thing an author can do is stay out of the way and not slow them down."

Another surprising thing in McMurtry's memoir is that he believes Loop Group a much better novel than Lonesome Dove. I've read his Hollywood novel Loop Group, and I enjoyed it, but it seemed slight to me, again as if it were written on the run, while I consider Lonesome Dove a masterpiece of western fiction. Most readers and not a few critics seem to feel the same way. It did win the Pulitzer Prize in 1985, while Loop Group went largely ignored. McMurtry could be right, however. I would love to read both of those novels again.