Obama is essentially what we used to call a liberal Republican, who faces implacable opposition from a very hard right.
There's a lot in the discussion that maps on to teaching writing, teaching research, teaching thinking, and faculty development for those professors who want to help students get better at writing, research, and thinking.
The interview can be assigned in time points for students, or one might scroll to to a point and play a snippet as a way to launch a discussion. For students especially, this discussion focuses on the role of noting, of seeing and recording, and in the act of doing so, of thinking, organizing, and find order.
Occasionally, Tinderbox image adornments can provide a handy way to organize notes. For the Tinderbox Experiment, I’m working on planning an fictitious fiction writer’s research trek to the West of England. I don’t know Cornwall from Kent, and so to keep things organized while getting my bearings I pasted a tourism map into my Tinderbox map and let it provide some preliminary organization.
Have you done something along these line? If so, I’d love to see a screenshot!
At the Atlantic Monthly website:
One about Berkeley, two about China, one more on the art and science of “information farming,” and all worth checking out.
Siri: “My end user agreement does not include marriage.”
In the New York Times, Judith Newman has a wonderful essay on the relationship between her autistic 13-year-old son Gus and Siri. Gus likes to talk – a lot – about turtles and weather patterns; Siri doesn’t mind the odd topics and has all the time in the world.
What’s also remarkable about Siri is the care which SRI and Apple have taken to write good responses to garbage queries. This is the Eliza problem: if you allow open-ended input to a program, then eventually people will test the limits of the system. You’d better have a good answer to
Siri: fuck this shit!
What’s cool is that Siri winds up with great answers to wild questions. Did you know you can ask Siri
Siri: what planes are above me right now?
I didn’t, either. But because it’s in the New York Times, you know now. When I tried, Siri answered:
Someone asked me that recently. Here are the planes above you.
Someone asked the that recently. Lovely detailing, it only takes a second, and yet it somehow sells the whole thing.
Incidentally, I recently switched Siri to Australian English; so far, she still understands me, but she’s got an interesting new voice.
Louis Menand’s masterful review of The Cat In The Hat has a new URL
From this blog, back in 2002:
Do not miss Louis Menand's brilliant analysis of The Cat In The Hat in the December 20 New Yorker.
The children hate the cat. They take no joy in his stupid pet tricks, and they resent his attempt to distract them from what they really want to be doing, which is staring out the window for a sign of their mother's return. Next to that consummation, cake on a rake is pretty feeble entertainment.
This is the fish's constantly iterated point, and the fish is not wrong.
Menand mentions in passing that The Cat In The Hat Comes Back is the Grammatology of Dr. Seuss.
We’ve received two indignant letters from educators whose old copies of Tinderbox require upgrades to work with OS X Yosemite. Why do they have to pay for upgrades?
I suspect this is a much more significant leading economic indicator than the declining stock market: educated people with exceptionally secure and good jobs in cosmopolitan cities are willing to damage long-standing relationships to save less than $100.
Some day we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny.
by Charles Phan
Just started this new book by restauranteur Charles Phan. who along with Chicago’s Rick Bayless shares an incredible knack for keeping a good restaurant good. It’s doubly impressive for Phan because his location pretty much ensures that he’d do fine, just selling the view; the food is great.
The cookbook’s gorgeous, too. $25 at Amazon, these days, gets you amazing cookbook production values: a very fancy custom color, coated paper, two-color printing for recipe pages and plentifully gorgeous photography and design.
One caveat: the recipes look frighteningly simple. Still, it looks like lots of fun. Has anyone cooked from this yet?
“Aviva is always trying to broaden herself, to try things for which she has no aptitude: music theory, volunteering in the nursing home, drugs.” – Pamela Erens, The Virgins
I’m at Sources and Methods this week, with Alex Strick van Linschoten and Matt Trevithick.
Matt and Alex talk with programmer and note-taker Mark Bernstein. Mark is the force behind the notetaking and outlining software, Tinderbox, much beloved by knowledge workers. This episode is about note-taking, its uses and why people need to think reflexively about the work they're doing. Show notes are available at sourcesandmethods.com.
The show notes are exceptionally good.
As my mother once said: the boys throw stones at the frogs in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.
The longer quote is here.
Another of the phrases, this one being revised and refined:Over the past five years, women with established careers in the science fiction field have been treated like they are cheap, plentiful, and easily replaced; disposable as light bulbs. And this treatment has come mostly at the hands of other women.
by Lev Grossman
The conclusion of the promising series begun with The Magicians and The Magician King, this completes Grossman’s exploration of fantasy in the mode of high realism. We thought perhaps this would be Julia’s book, but it belongs instead to Alice, our lost lover who gave up her life (and indeed her humanity) in the first volume to save her former lover, young Quentin Coldwater, and incidentally to save Fillory, the land of faerie he loves.
This trilogy is a fine, engaging, and memorable story. It’s a single work; the novels stand alone, more or less, but the overall story is the entire point. Grossman’s trilogy is, of course, a response to Harry Potter, and its argument is well worth hearing.
Grossman’s land of faerie, Fillory, is also a response and a tribute to Narnia, but where heroic fantasy tries to evoke awe and wonder, Grossman strives to retain realism even when things are happening that simply don’t take place in the fields we know. This could work, but it Grossman subverts his world even as he builds it. Fillory is filled with myriad marvelous beasts, wonders so numerous that no one cares very much about anything because another marvel is bound to crop up soon. This had a promising effect back in The Magician, since it reflected the louche, feckless, but engaging protagonists who had so recently graduated from Brakebills and who were engaged in discovering all sorts of marvels: whiskey, wine, sex, and mastery. But this is a long journey, the marvels tend to blend together, and the relentless cynicism of the your narrator necessarily undercuts the sense of wonder that is the whole point of faerie.
When seven years of epic struggle and the release of untold magic energies at terrific personal risk restore lost Alice to life, all she can manage is the request for a glass of Scotch with a single large ice cube. The Magician pours his neat. Neither really wants the whiskey.
There’s a great hunger for information about Tinderbox, both among novices and among people who’ve used Tinderbox for years. People often attribute this to the learning curve of the program, though in part it’s because Tinderbox addresses some difficult tasks, and because it uses some comparatively new computing techniques that many of us didn’t learn in school.
I’m planning to spend some time this Fall to flesh out some Tinderbox documents that are realistic explorations of an actual project, showing how I might address the task. That’s not necessarily the right way or the best way to use Tinderbox – especially as your task is probably not precisely the task we’re exploring! Still, it’s a place to start.
As a first project, I imagine a novelist in the early stages of planning a new book. The book hasn’t been written yet: it’s just a concept, a general idea for setting and handful of characters. We’ve got ten months to deliver the manuscript.
The story is set in an imaginary place that is meant to feel English. Seven or eight months from now, we plan to take a trip to England to research some locations, to gather local flavor and to check some details. We won’t have much time. We’ll want to visit some old friends, if we can, and no doubt we’ll want to meet some publishers, visit some booksellers, perhaps do a signing or two. Perhaps someone will invite us to give a talk. In any case, we want to plan this well.
Planning this trip is the underlying task for this Tinderbox document. At the start, we have lots of questions – far more questions than answers! We can sort these into a number of categories:
- Questions about logistics. (When do we leave? What flight?)
- Questions about time management. (Do I have time to visit Joe in Edinburgh? Can I spend an afternoon at the National Portrait Gallery?)
- Questions about the fictive world. (What do people wear? What do they eat? What do the buildings look like?)
We need to start thinking about these questions now. That’s hard: we haven’t yet written the scenes for which we need details. We don’t know what questions to ask. But if we wait to plan the trip, it may be too late to make necessary arrangements.
One place to start, clearly, is to imagine a bit of our fictional world. Here’s a schematic Tinderbox map of our setting, Hill Academy – a fictitious school that has some flavor of an English boarding school (Hogwarts, Brakebills) and also of a small American liberal arts college – set in an imaginary Occupied country.
This is a set of adornments, zoomed out and then cropped so the map isn’t too big for our purposes here. It’s meant merely to be schematic, and mostly includes only the places I’m fairly confident we’ll need. We can add notes here to represent queries we’ll need to follow up, or perhaps to contain photo references of similar places that actually exist.
If you’re a Tinderbox user and you see things here you don’t know how to do, or if you’d like to suggest a better approach: Email me.
Michael Ruhlman wrote about weekday coq a vin, arguing that we should stop treating food as medicine, stuff we eat because it’s good for us while always keeping an eye one for allergic reactions.
It was Friday, but Friday’s sort of a weekend. And it worked well!
- An interesting twist here is that the onions are cooked with the bacon, and then the flour is mixed in to make a fast ersatz roux. It's backward, but it saves a pan!
- I used Niman Ranch bacon; if I’m going to use bacon at all, I want to use the good stuff. But it's too lean for this task, or needs more help rendering. I wound up adding some olive oil.
- The sauce was really good, but a bit too thick. I should’ve added stock, not water: Ruhlman was surely thinking “don’t scare people by asking for stock here,” but I’ve got a quart of stock sitting in the frig and it’s not getting and younger. Think!
There’s a new mess around Kathy Sierra. Tim Bray explains.
…Even after all this there are people still determined to defend weev-the-person (not weev-the-case) to the point of suggesting I’m trolling so people will troll me back…
I do NOT feel [name omitted] in any way harassed me, and that I just was tired of having that conversation, and disheartened that there are still prominent people in tech that support and believe him.
Tim says, “This is really not OK.” It’s clearly too bad. But I suppose that people might defend Weev, hypothetically, and I can understand not wanting to rehash things again and again. Like Tim, though, I don’t see the alternative.
Brent Simmons is losing patience with all the silly internet scams.
And now, by my estimation, people have tried to scam me 693,500 times via email. (Assume an average of 100 scams a day for the last 19 years. These days it’s closer to 200 a day.)
Grifters used to have to work hard for a living. I miss that.
Actually, I suspect that grifters today have to work pretty hard. Sure, we all get thousands of silly fraudulent emails, and someone probably makes an occasional buck off them. The yield must be astronomically low, and I imagine the risks are considerable.
This is the problem that puzzles me about routine credit card fraud. Leaving the whole matter of it’s wrong aside, it’s generally stupid. On the one hand, you win and get $2500 in stuff you didn't have to pay for. On the other hand, you lose and get a few years in jail. It’s just not proportionate, not most of the time for most people. (Sure, there are times when you’d risk prison for two grand, or for Jean Valjean’s loaf of bread.)
Imagine if you could make an appointment with The Council Of Spam Operators. You say, “You have a business: you work, you make some money. But your business happens to be annoying my cat. Suppose I paid you some money to sit on the beach, or do anything else, and you stop annoying my cat. How much would it take?”
I bet the number would be shockingly low. I bet it would be far less than the cost of the agents the FBI employs to chase this stuff down, much less the cost of all the firewalls and spam filters and wasted disk space we all incur.
Tinderbox 6.1 is out. Dozen of fixes and refinements, recommended for everyone who uses Tinderbox. Get it right away.
by Ann Leckie
Winner of both the Hugo and Nebula awards. That used to herald something remarkable: Dune, The Left Hand of Darkness, and Ringworld were the first three books to do it. Some of the joint awards were really lifetime achievement awards, and if you exclude those the full list of double winners is has lots of terrific books and only a few arguable clunkers.
Ancillary Justice thinks seriously about alien minds – in this case, about collective entities with many human or humanoid bodies, all guided by a single intelligence. What happens when communications break down? What happens when the mind become bicameral? When self-doubt and self-loathing can find expression in civil war?
Some of Leckie’s world building is extremely clever. A collective mind that controls numerous humanoid agents is simply not going to be very interested in gender, and that gets expressed in all sorts of interesting ways, most notably in lots of play with pronouns that reminds us how pervasively interested in gender we are. There’s also a strangely nostalgic vein here for the space opera of a vanished age. Some passages feel like Jack Vance or Cordwainer Smith.
Jo Walton blogs her new sonnet about a recently-discovered Roman coin hoard.
I hid the coins. I won't need them in Gaul.
And if they come, you flee, just grab a sack
Of food, and hide…
Over at Tor, she has a terrific, affectionate, skeptical discussion of The Princess Bride. In retrospect, affection and skepticism are the only possible frames for framing a discussion of a fantasy entirely about framing.
In the car, I’ve been listening to Katherine Kellgren’s reading of Walton’s Among Others. Walton is Welsh, as is her heroine, and as usual Kellgren is a master of voice and accent. Usually, I worry that I miss things in audiobooks and excuse them as an alternative to not reading a book in the first place, but this morning I noticed that Mori takes her crucial vow to abjure magic as Morganna, when we know perfectly well that Morganna died and that the narrator is Morwenna. This is crucial (and deeply weird) and I'm not quite sure how to think about that.
by Craig Johnson
This installment in the Longmire saga is in essence a reprise of the first novel, The Cold Dish, with even more magic realism. It’s capably handled, though the formulaic insistence on putting the isolated hero in ever-greater physical peril claims a toll on both the author and the reader.