Archives » 2008 » November

Book Sales

This morning I went to my local area libraries’ book sale. They have one on and off – the good lady thinks every month or so – but we haven’t been to one for a while.

It is a tiny bit niggling when you find they’re selling off books you’ve already bought and read but it does afford the opportunity to sample an author whom you may be interested in but maybe not to the extent of punting the full price of a book.

They certainly sell their withdrawn stock at ridiculously cheap prices though, well undercutting any second hand book shop I’ve ever entered, and even the internet. And there were hundreds of books available, including loads for children, (plus some CDs) on the tables. But I suppose some of them (most?) are not in the best of nick.

However, today’s haul included an all but unopened paperback copy of “One Hundred Years Of Solitude” with spine totally intact. Only the plastic cover they put on (and the ripped out page where they would have put the date stamps if it had ever been borrowed) betrays it was a library book.

You have to question the buying policy in this instance. If this has been withdrawn unread, ought it to have been purchased in the first place? I would have thought that most people wanting to read “One Hundred Years Of Solitude” now (it is 35 years after it first appeared in British publication) would wish to own their copy rather than borrow it from a local library.

I know they’re recouping some money, here, and this will go to buying new books (at least I hope it will) but how cost effective is it? By no means all the books (not just the Marquez) were worn out. They could have stayed on the libraries’ shelves for longer, surely?

East Stirlingshire 5-2 Dumbarton

Ochilview, 15/11/08

Well. That’s the unbeaten away record comprehensively trashed, then.

We were never really in this game. I’ve not seen us play so poorly since the last away game against the same opposition. The Shire had had several chances to score before Gordon Lennon’s mistake was compounded by Mick O’Byrne and we were one down. Then Andy Rodgers conned the ref into giving a pen on the stroke of half-time. 999 times out of 1000 it wouldn’t have been given. 2-0.

A minute after half time the game was over, 3-0. At which point Jim Chapman decided to take off our right back and put on a striker. Badly though Gordon Lennon was playing – and he’s not a right back, no way – this frankly bizarre decision totally unbalanced the side and it was no surprise when Shire increased their lead, though neither goal actually came from that flank. But by this time we were in disarray and none of the defence, keeper included, was covering himself in glory.

It was like watching the Gerry McCabe era Sons. Yes, Rab, as bad as that.

The Shire are quite a big side; not uncommon in Div 3. Can we afford the luxury of two wee wide men, no matter how tricky, when our midfield seems to be being overrun – as it now has two weeks in a row? Last week Carcary wasn’t in the game. This week it was Stevie Murray’s turn to be ineffective.

Michael Moore didn’t make much of an impact, Michael Dunlop didn’t do much wrong but was caught up in the general malaise. The late goals were little consolation. Carcary created his out of nothing by collecting a bullet pass he had no right to and playing a couple of one-twos before finishing well. Ben Gordon’s header from a free kick – after a shocking tackle on Carcary by a Shire player (Bolochoweckyj?) who surely escaped a sending off only by being carried off – merely added a veneer of respectability.

I never thought I’d write this next sentence. We seemed to miss Paul Keegan as a link-up striker.

And another strange thought. Is there a point to Gary Wilson after all?

My Dewey Decimal Classification

I picked this up from Ian Sales‘s blog.

Jack Deighton’s Dewey Decimal Section:
190 Modern western philosophy
Jack Deighton = 013145978054 = 013+145+978+054 = 1190

Class:
100 Philosophy & Psychology

Contains:
Books on metaphysics, logic, ethics and philosophy.

What it says about you:
You’re a careful thinker, but your life can be complicated and hard for others to understand at times. You try to explain things and strive to express yourself.

Find your Dewey Decimal Section at Spacefem.com

Is this the new horoscope then? It probably has as much (ie as little) validity.

I suspect they only have about six or seven different, “What it says about you” comments. I put in the good lady’s details and hers turned out exactly the same as mine!

Where do people get the ideas for creating this sort of stuff?

Scotland’s Art Deco Heritage 6 (i). Carron Restaurant Stonehaven

P1010980

After the Bon Accord Baths I thought I’d stay up north for the latest in this series.

This is an amazing sight. The cafe apparently fell into disrepair in the 1960s but has obviously been updated. I remember seeing an item on the TV once many years back about an Art Deco cafe in Stonehaven that had fallen into disrepair. I suppose this must have been it. What a great job they’ve done.

The street entrance looks like this.

Edited, 2//9/20, to add; the links below mostly longer work.

CARRON RESTAURANT STREET FACADE

The restaurant’s home page is here.

They claim to have a mirror that may be a work by Picasso! I believe it’s shown in this photo.

CARRON RESTAURANT INTERIOR STONEHAVEN ABERDEEN

The foyer looks like this.

CARRON RESTAURANT FOYER, STONEHAVEN ABERDEEN

The fanlight parts of the windows are very deco.

CARRON RESTAURANT WINDOWS STONEHAVEN ABERDEEN

The chairs are also in keeping with the Art Deco feel.

What a fantastic place to go and have a meal.

China Mountain Zhang by Maureen F McHugh

Orbit, 1995

China Mountain Zhang cover

This is another multi stranded narrative mostly dealing with the life of Zhang Zhong Shan,* an ABC (American Born Chinese) in a world where China is the major power. There was a major depression in the early part of the 21st century, bankrupting all the “€œWestern” powers barring Japan, Canada and Australia. (Does this sound faintly familiar? It was a bit bizarre reading stuff like this after the events of the past few months.) However, here the US underwent a proletarian revolution, a Second Civil War and, with some aid from China, became a socialist republic. Not a likely outcome in the real world, where socialism appears to be a swear word in the US.

Zhang’s mother has lumbered him with an embarrassing name (Sun Yat Sen in English transliteration.) She was Hispanic, a decided drawback in Zhang’€™s world, but he has been gene-spliced to make him appear more Chinese, though his genetic background is available to anyone who can access the records. This is possible by the process of “jacking-in” to a system, as are other activities legal and illegal. Such systems are extremely important in this world.

To make Zhang’€™s life even more problematic he is gay, a proclivity which requires to be hidden in the US and which could see him shot in the China he travels to in the fifth section of the novel.

Each strand is written in the first person, present tense. There are five sections narrated by Zhang but the other four narrators, Angel, Martine, Alexi, and San Xiang, have only one episode each and they all have at best only a tangential relationship to Zhang. It is therefore difficult to see what purpose these sections serve apart from to pad the novel out or else to illuminate Zhang’€™s world a little more fully than he can on his own – a flaw to my mind.

Still, the prose, being eminently readable, rolls along easily and the characters are well enough drawn. However, one does strike a cord in another at one point. (I had always thought it was a chord that was struck in such circumstances.)

Martine’€™s and Alexi’s strands are connected to each other (they marry) but are set on Mars where Zhang never sets foot! (He does communicate -€“ via a fifteen or so minute delay – with Alexi, by vid.) Martine’€™s and Alexi’€™s story is left hanging somewhat, though. The other two non-Zhang strands are quite divorced from the rest of the book.

Its episodic nature and the unrelated aspects of the strands made the book read more as a collection of short stories rather than a coherent novel and made me think this was actually a fix-up. A quick check reveals this to be at least partly the case since sections two, “Kites,”€ and three, “€œBaffin Island,”€ appeared in Asimov’s in 1989. As a result I am at a loss as to why this “novel” was nominated for the Hugo and Nebula awards in that category for 1993. It can only be for its unusual setting which almost seems designed to conclude that “€œMarx was wrong”€ – as Zhang intimates to a class he teaches in the last section.

The read here is undemanding; the prose is transparent and the characters are mostly engaging. Good enough; but, for me, not an award nominee.

*Zhong Shan can also mean China Mountain -€“ hence the title.

Stenhousemuir 1-1 Dumbarton

Ochilview, 8/11/08

After a game in which we never looked like scoring, and a point in the end was won, this was nevertheless an opportunity lost.

Stenny showed their game plan early. One of their players clattered into Stevie Murray in the first minute and was rightly booked. At 5 mins another went in late and obviously dangerously as the ref hauled out the red card immediately. (At Stenny the away support is confined to one end of the ground so this incident was quite far away from me; I can’t say if the red card was justified or not but the ref was in no doubt. The Dumbarton players left it to him to make his decision, though.) This was the lost opportunity; the chance of 11 against 10 for 85 mins.

On 15 mins Gary Wilson overextended his leg and collided with a Stenny player in what was a foul but no more than a yellow card’s worth. Stenny players immediately mobbed him and the ref in a clear effort to get him sent off – and succeeded; only one of them being booked for their over-reaction.

Stenny then proceeded to foul Dumbarton players at every opportunity for the rest of the half, their striker a particular culprit. He was eventually warned by the ref but not booked; the ref probably thought all hell would break loose if he did. I can see now why they are top of the Division; a physical approach has always paid dividends at the lower end of Scottish Football.

Thankfully in the second half things were calmer: maybe the ref had a word with the managers at half time. Curiously there seemed to be less space to play in with only 18 outfield players on the pitch instead of the usual 20. There were remarkably few chances for either team in the whole game.

I’d said to Onebrow before the start, “At this stage of the season I’d take a draw now,” and repeated it at half time. He was just about to say it to me when Stenny scored. Gordon Lennon’s clearing header didn’t get very far and the ball was played across to their scorer who struck it very well.

It all looked lost, but Chissie replaced Keegan and suddenly the Stenny back four was being pulled out of position. Moore came on for Carcary, who hadn’t been in the game, and things went back to much as before. Then a long range strike from Stevie Murray into a more or less empty net and there would only have been one winner after that. We’d managed to grind out a draw after being behind – a good trait to have developed.

We didn’t play well, probably because Stenny didn’t allow us to. But we stuck to it. And we’re still unbeaten away. I’ll take the draw.

One of the Stenny supporters in the stand rang a cow bell almost the whole game. A terracing wag in the away end was driven to ask, “Is that how ye attract the women round here?” Quite a subtle comment on both the local males’ articulacy and the local females’ pulchritude in only seven words, and highly non-PC; but in the context of a football game reasonably funny.

The Apache Army also asked of the (rather quieter) Stenny fans, “Shall we sing a song for you?”

Edited to add: artificial pitch – again the ball didn’t always bounce nor run truly. This affects both sides though.

Glenrothes By-Election 3

So, after foregrounding local matters over which as a Westminster MP he will have no influence and riding the coat-tails of a financial crisis which has paradoxically redounded to the Government’s benefit, Lindsay Roy saved Labour’s bacon.

Did anyone else think he might have been less than happy at his win?

His winner’s speech was flat and uninspiring. He looked and sounded like a rabbit caught in headlights. Surely, as a headmaster, at School Concert nights etc, he is used to speaking in front of an assembled adult audience?

And will Kirkcaldy High School now go back down the pan he was parachuted in to rescue it from? There were whispers to that effect even before Thursday’s result.

Still, a grateful government will no doubt reward him in a future honours list.

One curiosity. Immediately after the result a BBC graphic stated there had been a swing from Labour to SNP of 8.16%. Labour’s % of the vote went up. So how could there have been a swing to SNP from Labour? Surely any swing was to the SNP from other parties? (Both Tory and Lib Dem votes were hugely down on the last General Election.)

I realise this last cannot be how they calculate swing but the swing figure quoted surely shows the concept of swing is more than a bit misleading.

Temper With Caution

So, a historic result. Americans can rightly be proud of electing Obama, which even ten years ago would have been unthinkable. And, should the worst happen to him, at least Joe Biden isn’t Sarah Palin.

But better not hope for too much. The problems the new President will face will be considerable and it’s entirely possible that the present incumbent will do things to make them even worse until he finally steps down in January.

And, while much the better of the two main options on offer Obama is still an American politician; not of the left, just to the left of right, and unlikely to change America very much. Britain’s experience of an apparent leftward shift in 1997 didn’t change much on the surface.

Still if Obama shuts down Guantanamo and stops extraordinary rendition, not to mention torture, the world will be a better place. Much less likely, though desirable, will be to extricate from Iraq without it blowing up.

But the financial crisis may top the lot. Is he another FDR? America and the world might need one.

The Queer-Like Smell

Yesterday, walking in Kirkcaldy town centre, the unmistakable smell of linseed hit my nostrils.

This reminded me of how, when I was young and whisky was being produced there, the air in Dumbarton at certain times was full of the smell of malt. It still takes me back whenever I get the merest hint of malting out on passing a distillery.

Kirkcaldy was once famous for its particular ‘queer like smell‘, but now, since the demise of the linoleum industry, I detect it only rarely – perhaps when the ground has just become damp after a drier spell, but I’m not really sure why. The land where the factories were sited is probably saturated with the stuff.

Nairn’s (as Forbo?) still, I believe, make Cushionflor (sic) in Kirkcaldy but that doesn’t require the quantities of linseed that linoleum did – and many fewer workers. Apparently it’s great stuff against MRSA and other hospital bugs, though. Fantastic.

Forbo also sell something called Marmoleum now, though, which seems to be a linoleum derivative. Nairn’s erstwhile main factories in the town have, however, been demolished. There was a hint that a new swimming pool might be built where they were sited but the council has opted for a location near the promenade.

The malt smell in Dumbarton has also vanished – forever it would seem, as the distillery which spewed it out is defunct and it too is for the most part demolished. Its landmark tower survives, if decrepitly, but what use will be found for that in these uncertain times is problematic.

Sadly, those now growing up in both towns won’t have that olfactory memory to bring everything back whenever they catch a stray whiff in adult life.

Brasyl by Ian McDonald

Pyr, 2007

Brasyl cover

Don’t you just hate multi-stranded narratives? There’s always one strand that you can’t wait to be over with before you get back to the more interesting ones. And then that one turns out to be pivotal to the resolution. Authors; you just can’t trust them!

Ian McDonald has taken to multiple narratives in a big way. “River of Gods” had five or six separate strands. Brasyl has three.
In 2006, TV assistant Marcelina Hoffman’s attempts to bring to the screen a new programme for her company Canal Quatro are thwarted by a mysterious presence.
In 2032, small-time impresario Edson de Freitas falls for a girl physicist who can deactivate the smart location chips in stolen goods.
In 1732, Irish Jesuit Luis Quin is sent up the Amazon to bring a renegade priest back to the fold.

I must say I never thought to see in an SF novel an account of the fateful final match of the 1950 World Cup – hell, I never thought to see much about football at all. Alexei Panshin did try it in Rite Of Passage but you could tell he didn’t know the game. He called it soccer for a start. But McDonald’s setting is Brazil, past, present and future. I’m led to believe that football is important there. And it is germane to the 2006 plot. He does gild the lily a bit, though, by having a form of the game appear in the 1730s narrative. (What US readers might make of these aspects of the novel is something else.)

In the early 1730s sections McDonald demonstrates he is more than capable of writing in a straight-forward non-SF style – not that that could ever have been doubted. There are inevitable echoes here of The Mission and Heart Of Darkness but quite soon SF elements creep in, including a Governing Engine which is directed by punched cards and some philosophising which is effectively modern and seemingly out of place.

The initial link between the narratives is the appearance in each of Q-blades, knives which are sharp down to the quantum level.

In the 2030s we hear of a quantum computer which spans all the multiple universes quantum theory gives rise to. This is capable of effectively copying people from one universe into another thus creating doppelgangers. There is also a multiverse police of some kind dedicated to eradicating such inter-universe incursions. These latter aspects brought to my mind Keith Laumer’s Imperium stories read in my young adolescence. In the other two narratives access to the many worlds can be achieved using the drug, curupaira.

McDonald does not take the doppelganger aspect in the direction a Scottish writer might have done but his doppel- are actually more like viel-gangers.

I did take him on trust a bit, letting all the Portuguese words wash over me. (I found the glossary at the back only after I’d finished the novel.) But we SF types are used to neologisms, right? The form is just about impossible without them. And in Brasyl there is substance beneath the surface glitter of the prose.

I can see why some felt disappointed in the central theme,* there is no really ground-breaking speculation in Brasyl. But novelty for its own sake is not a virtue. There is surely room for exploring all the implications of any SF idea without loading new ones on top all the time. Neither is it always necessary to push the boundaries. And an idea, however good, does not make a story. Characters do. McDonald gives you characters in abundance.

* I believe it was the review in Vector but, of course, I can’t find it now.

The Pyr edition can be found at http://www.pyrsf.com/Brasyl.html

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