The Shallows by Nicholas Carr

The Shallows: How the Internet is changing the way we think, read and remember 

Nicholas Carr. Atlantic Books, 2010.

A book like this forces you to read it in small bites in order to understand and consider Carr’s observations.

Carr offers a very detailed study of ... what it says on the tin (how the Internet is changing the way we think, read and remember). Careful scientific and psychological studies show that our brains physically change in response to what we do with them. Because internet technology (typified by Google) is designed to encourage us to jump from one thing to another quickly via hypertext links, related stories, images, etc., internet users progressively lose the ability for deep thought, concentration on one subject, reasoning things to a logical conclusion, silent contemplation, and so on.

He includes a survey of the development of reading. Interestingly enough, at the point where he discusses the ancient and mediaeval world and the transmission of texts, he makes some very ignorant blunders.

“The scribes didn’t pay much attention to the order of the words in a sentence [...]. In spoken language, meaning had always been conveyed mainly through inflection, the pattern of stresses a speaker places on syllables, and that oral tradition continued to govern writing. In interpreting the writing in books through the early Middle Ages, readers would not have been able to use word order as a signal of meaning. The rules hadn’t been invented yet.” (p. 61)

This is simply nonsense. He is confusing “inflection” with “intonation”. The word “inflection” is often used to mean the same as “intonation”, but when dealing with Latin and other languages, it means that the form of the word (typically its ending) changes in order to signify its function in the sentence. That is the reason why word-order in Latin and other inflected languages is much less important than it is in English, French, etc.: you could tell the meaning of the sentence from the forms of the words.

Less importantly, he says, p. 62: “... most literate Greeks and Romans were happy to have their books read to them by slaves.” As a matter of fact, only a tiny minority of literate Greeks or Roman owned slaves who could read Greek or Latin. I could continue with further examples, but it doesn’t really affect the argument of the book so I won’t.

Carr exposes the real problem with technology today – it’s not the speed and type of content it can deliver making our lives more efficient, enjoyable, informative, etc. etc., but actually the medium itself (TV, mobile phone, internet etc.) determining how we now think and work. I am already a child (actually adult, as this change took place in my adulthood) of spellcheck, cut-and-paste, fast forward, rewind, and instant access on the go, and I expect others to think and behave like me.

Funnily enough, the expectation to adapt to technological change is so strong with my grown-up children that after a year of pushing me to change my Windows phone, they clubbed together and bought me an iPhone 6 for my birthday. They argued that this type of phone was more intuitive and easier to use for old people like myself, because we don’t understand how all these things work! Secretly, I have already found I can do things on my iPhone 6 that I couldn’t do on my Windows phone, and so, slowly, I too am evolving new habits.

Twelve Years a Slave by Solomon Northup

Solomon Northup, Twelve Years a Slave

1853; new edition with supplementary material and notes, edited by Sue Eakin, Eakin Films & Publishing, 2013.

We read this simply because the film had come out in the UK; otherwise, like so many people, we would never have heard of it. The book itself is fascinating. For those who had read Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, the story was horribly familiar – it confirms in a factual account what Stowe had written as fiction.

The Eakin edition is well worth getting, though some would recommend reading the narrative first and then the introduction, notes, appendices etc. Northup did not write the book himself, though it is told in the first person. As is explained by Eakin, Northup told his story to David Wilson, who wrote it up for publication. I say “wrote it up” and not “wrote it down” because the style and ornamentations are almost certainly all Wilson’s, not Northup’s. Still, the narrative does not lose the enormity of this story, the emotions and the pain undergone by Northup and the other slaves. You are sucked right in, and feel exasperated and agonized by what they experience. The book was written in a very short space of time to ride on the back of the success of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, as well as possibly to identify Solomon’s two kidnappers via those who read his story.

The book was written for a white audience, telling them the story of a slave’s life from kidnap or purchase from the slave-pen, to cotton-picking, sugarcane-cutting, labouring and trying to avoid minute by minute, every day and night, the cruelty of a master who could whip them for no reason and at any time.

We spent a lot of time discussing how people could treat slaves as they did. (Not all slave-owners were cruel, but very many of them were.) In the dialogues between Epps (Northup’s owner) and Bass (the abolitionist who eventually rescued him), it is made clear that slave-dealers and slave-owners convinced themselves, helped by the social acceptance of the practice, that slaves, “people of color” (and another word which is no longer printable), were simply not human beings. Many people in Louisiana and the rest of America believed slaves were an inferior species, little higher than an animal, with speech and limited intellect, and no rights. This is exactly what the Nazis and other twentieth-century abusers thought about their prisoners; and it is what pro-abortionists think about unborn babies. It is the only way that any of them can justify what they do. Slavery was legal then, as abortion is legal now; and as Bass tells Epps (chapter 19), the law said Epps had the right to hold slaves, “but, begging the law’s pardon, it lies.”

Epps and Tibeats, as well as the brief comment about Epps’s son (chapter 18), show the effects of the slave system on the people in it. The fact of being given unlimited power over others, and being allowed to inflict suffering on others without ever being called to account or punished for it, inevitably brings out the worst extremes of brutality in some (not all) people. The story of Epps’s dancing sessions (chapter 13) is hideously reminiscent of the behaviour of some of the Nazis in occupied Poland, the ghettoes and the concentration camps.

Some notes from chapters:

  

Chapter 6

The separation of Eliza from her children is heart-wrenching and difficult to read whether the reader is a mother or daughter. However, it is uncertain whether all of the “free” audience, who were the book’s target, could appreciate that a mother’s love and family ties were experienced by “slaves” in the same way.

Chapter 8

Northup/Wilson gives a history of plantations: land was cheap, and owners were rich. There was a huge drive to cultivate the land. Slaves were mortgaged and therefore worth a lot when alive, so that however much the planter or overseer wanted to whip them it was against their interests to kill them. Ford believed they were an investment worth looking after, and not to be ill-treated. He devised a Code of Conduct of Slaves, also known as the Plantation survival code: without slaves, crops could not be raised, no income generated to pay off the money borrowed by the planter. This was a society of debt and credit (as Bass says in Chapter 19)

Chapter 12

A description of slave life: planting cotton and tilling over 4 weeks, with the lead tiller whipping them if they lagged behind him. One of the most accurate accounts of the process ever recorded for that time. It also revealed how long they worked – in the field from the crack of dawn until dark, then the cotton had to be weighed (a separate chapter on being beaten if you did not collect a sufficient load) and dried.  Then the slaves had to go and make their dinner for that night and lunch for the following day, before they were able to sleep.

Chapter 15

The benefit of Solomon’s ability to play the violin – it gave him money to buy shoes, and also to witness how other rich plantation masters lived. Christmas time was the only time when slaves were free and did not have to work – for 3, 4, or even 5 days, depending on their master’s decision.

The education Solomon Northup had received from Sabbath School as a boy was at the insistence of his father, himself a freed slave.

Chapter 19

The discussion of slavery between Epps and Bass was another eye-opener for the readers on the attitudes of that time. This is a brilliant chapter which could form the basis for school discussion on the topic today.

The Hare with Amber Eyes: A Hidden Inheritance by Edmund de Waal

The Hare with Amber Eyes: A Hidden Inheritance. Edmund de Waal, Vintage, London, 2011.

Readers’ reactions to the book differed widely according to their past experience, among other things.

The writing is good, although the beginning in particular seems slow-moving and quite hard to get through. The author tends to write in short, terse sentences, with plenty of historic-present-tense verbs. Quite easy to parody, but basically well crafted and sustains interest. An interesting note in the preface explores the author’s reasons or motivations for writing and especially what does not motivate him (p. 15).

It is a book about a journey, or rather journeying: both that of the netsuke collection, and EdW’s own. For the netsuke there is a process of attachment and detachment along the way, being acquired, owned, valued or not valued differently, and passed on to someone else. The author takes you with him on his journey. He does not know where the journey is going to lead him, and neither do you. A totally enjoyable process, even for those who generally like books with a plot. There isn’t one, but by the end of it the reader has acquired a fair amount of meaningful historical information and has been on a journey of discovery; the netsuke are the thread that holds the whole thing together.

The author’s journey takes him notably to Tokyo, Paris, Vienna, Kovecses (Hungary) and Odessa, in the process of journeying into the lives of his family’s past members. It is not a travel book, because of the tremendous sense of place.

It is a book that needs to be re-read to get the most out of it as there is so much to take in. Not only to read again but to study and discuss. It is a fantastic angle on the history, especially the social history, of Europe in the 19th and early 20th century, and Japan in and after World War 2.

Eileen, an artist herself, enjoyed the beautifully crafted writing, and the rich masses of information about different artistic styles and movements in the course of the book. You identify with EdW’s appreciation of this little work of art that is a netsuke, so fine and small, over which a craftsmen had spent ages: they are objets d’art and worth studying for themselves. The value of a thing is all the human effort that has gone into making them. He spends time on the tactile value of the netsuke, to others and to him as a craftsman himself. This was especially interesting to Eileen because of her mother’s belongings: she bought things carefully, individually, planning what she was going to buy and whom for – a Wedgewood dinner-service she wanted her son to have, etc.: “This is beautiful,” she would think, “and I want it for so-and-so…”

Readers can appreciate Edmund de Waal’s sensitivity; this appears to be a tendency inherited from his ancestors and family, and he wants his children to have the netsuke; at the end of the book he installs a vitrine for them at home. All of this is in stark contrast to our current pervasive throw-away culture. The book makes one realise how unpleasant and alienating this culture is; and to want things that can be valued. Carelessness breaks and spoils things; the approach of the artist helps everyone to re-learn a love of things that have value and meaning. Costly and beautiful and material things have a meaning. There are so many reasons for valuing an object: De Waal really explores what happens when people value an object; just as an artist he didn’t want the things he had made to be lost or thrown away.

The story of the netsuke takes us to World War 2 Europe, and how the Jews – in this case the Ephrussi family of Vienna – were forcibly detached from their prized possessions. It is an effective introduction to what used to be called “the Jewish question”: why the Jews were disliked by so many members of their host countries: the book does not explain it so much as exploring it. It was particularly helpful to readers who had already seen Simon Schama’s programmes “The Story of the Jews”, especially the one about the Enlightenment. EdW’s family were assimilated Jews – Charles Ephrussi in 19^th-century Paris; Viktor and Elizabeth in Vienna – they professed no religion, but what mattered was the clan, the family.

Other readers may find that there is no character in the book that they sympathise or can identify with in any way. The human angle is deliberately undeveloped, the relationships are dealt with from a historical angle. One may miss the fleshing-out that a historical-fiction approach would have brought; EdW restricts himself to appreciative history with a minimum of speculation.

A Street Cat Named Bob by James Bowen

A Street Cat Named Bob, James Bowen, Hodder 2012

A fun, easy read, not great literature. The book was actually co-written with Garry Jenkins, who is acknowledged on the inside and at the end of the book, though it doesn’t say this on the cover. The unpretentious style contributes to the sense of honesty that is a keynote of the book, and is one of the things that make it so attractive.

Readers – all of whom live and work in London – learnt a lot about London from this book, and about a different side of London life. The homeless become real people; you started to think about the different causes of homelessness. The same with The Big Issue sellers, and what it’s like for them. One of the bookclubbers has a friend who comes from the part of London in which part of the book is set, which makes it particularly vivid for them. You also learn how The Big Issue scheme works, and about Drug Dependency Units and prescription methadone.

It’s a very good book for young people who are just about to leave home as it has values, and it shows – and explains – clearly, how hopeless doing drugs really is. It would be equally good for people who are not very well educated but need a lift – it’s easy to read, as stated above – and for people who have jobs and money, to make them realise how the other half live. It is really frightening to see the lengths people can go to, in order to numb their feelings and avoid facing reality, avoid facing who they are.

In the book, James comes across as totally honest, without making a song and dance of it. Even when he seems to be on the verge of self-pity, when explaining the effects on him of his parents’ divorce (instability, being bullied at school, and dropping out), or the way that as a busker or Big Issue seller he is ignored by most people and beaten up by a few, he never falls into self-pity. His writing is by turns resigned, common-sensical, and determined. This is more remarkable as he started off, as a teenager, by being very angry indeed, and understandably. Another aspect of his character is the way he instantly falls into panic and fears the very worst, as soon as anything goes wrong – e.g. the times when Bob was frightened and ran away from him, and when he was accused of cheating when selling The Big Issue. A couple of bookclubbers watched a TV interview by Jeremy Vine with James Bowen and Bob. James is jerky and febrile, presumably an aftermath of his addiction; Bob was as cool and composed on screen as he is in the book.

With all of this, nothing in the book is written to give offence, and it is very easy to imagine how it could have been. It is obviously not written for children, but the grittiness of life as a drop-out, addict, busker, and Big Issue seller is depicted realistically enough to bring it home to the reader, yet without making you feel that you are having your nose rubbed in the dirt – although he has been angry, he does not write angrily. Instead, step by step, he dwells on the way his life and attitudes change as he takes in Bob and gets to take responsibility for him – and then as he sees what Bob is doing for him. It is not only the fact that people give far more money to him when Bob is there; it is the fact that James loses his “Harry Potter invisibility cloak” (p. 77), and begins to become a person again, because people look at him, talk to him, and treat him like a human being. And by the end of the book, p. 186, he realises that “Bob brought back my faith in human nature,” because he finds people being kind, going out of their way to help, and keeping their promises.

This book made an excellent contrast with our last read, The Sisters of Sinai – they had a huge amount of money and were extraordinarily well-educated; James had nothing and had a raw deal from the start. It is notable that while Bob alone made him a success as a Big Issue seller, it was the Internet – technology – that made him famous.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Those who had read this book before found that it was more interesting on second reading, and in a way they got more out of it. Especially about the “second story”, Levin and Kitty, since the first time round one naturally focused more on Anna Karenina herself.

Tolstoy wrote the book as a serial. One of the reasons he wrote it was to send a new message to readers, about the relationship between work and education. It is a family story – all the main characters are connected. But between them they represent the whole range of levels of Russian nineteenth-century society. The Shterbatskys – the peasants – Nicholas Levin and Marya Nikolaevna.

Bookclubbers were surprised to find how easy the book was to read, compared with nineteenth-century literature in English. We had read different translations, but no-one had any difficulty in reading it and everyone had found it a compelling read. The chapters are very short, and the language and sentences are clear. The ideas are not necessarily so straightforward or easy to catch. In practically every chapter, there are phrases, sentences and episodes that are loaded with significance – anyone who had a copy of their own and who was in the habit of highlighting meaningful passages, would soon have virtually the whole book covered in yellow stripes.

One of the most fascinating things about the book is the picture it provides of the Russian world of the nineteenth century. It was a world in which money meant everything (as indeed it does in today’s world), whether at the peasants’ level or at that of the upper classes. What was noticeable was the sheer unreality of the lives lived by the nobility. There is a very strongly-marked contrast between the society men who went from soirée to theatre to club (yes, the men’s purposelessness is what strikes one most; I suppose we find it easier to accept the idea of upper-class women leading such a meaningless existence?) and the peasants, with their simple happiness and their farniente, the ability to persevere in hard, gruelling work while taking every opportunity that came along of doing nothing. The peasants are shown as leading happy, even carefree lives. They live on the land and have strong families, companionship, and folk traditions. However, they have neither education nor culture, so their level of happiness is limited and narrow.

The question of religious faith runs through the whole book – it is a question, a problem. It is evident in Karenin, a cold fish who has never really thought about how he ought to treat his wife, or whether their relationship could be different. He has been living an artificial life made up of official duties and official responsibilities, but with no real human relationships and no actual friends at all. He undergoes a religious experience when Anna seems to be dying after giving birth, while still in his house, to Vronsky’s daughter. Karenin finds that he can humble himself, and forgive her and even Vronsky, totally, in a Christ-like way. However, this conversion, real though it is, does not last. Karenin ends up being fascinated by the Christian-Scientist-type teachings of Countess Lydia Ivanovna, even though he realises, deep down, that this new version of Christianity is false and shallow.

Levin himself, who seems to be an autobiographical character for Tolstoy, wrestles much more deeply with his faith, as he does with everything in the intellectual realm. To begin with he tries to make sense of the Russian social set-up as it is at that time, and to rationalise and improve the agricultural work done by the peasants – recently liberated from serfdom. He is foiled by the peasants themselves, who are one and all convinced that any change or innovation must necessarily be bad, and, if proposed by a landowner, must be a trick to get something out of them. Levin is a man of integrity and natural humility, and continues questioning, reading, and arguing about the purpose of life and human nature. However, it is noticeable that again and again, he tries to engage people in discussion about these things unsuccessfully, even when he is sure they have very interesting viewpoints to contribute; and when he argues, he never manages to convince anyone of his point of view.

Levin goes to confession to a Russian Orthodox priest before his wedding, as Church rules require. And, with characteristic honesty (unlike Oblonsky), he says frankly that he doubts the existence of God. The priest is not scandalized, but really does help him to look towards faith instead of away from it. When Kitty has a difficult labour, Levin finds himself praying with real faith, but experiences it more as a feeling that doesn’t last (there is an obvious parallel here with Karenin). However, he keeps on trying to find his way to faith in order to make sense of his life, and human existence. In the end he realises that in all his philosophising, reading and arguing, he has been “seeking food in toy shops and tool shops” – determinedly looking for spiritual sustenance in all the wrong places – and that he really does have a faith on which he can construct his life.

Vronsky and Anna are the main characters of the “first story” in the book, as Levin and Kitty are of the “second story”. Vronsky’s philosophy of life, which seems to be characteristic of his class and generation, was merely a set of hard and fast rules for getting on in society. Practically every time he is mentioned, his “even white teeth” also feature. The most extensive and detailed episode involving him is the horse race where he literally rides his horse to death in an unsuccessful attempt to win; he destroys Anna as he had destroyed the horse. There is an astonishing passage when he and Anna first become lovers, where Tolstoy describes Vronsky’s attitude towards Anna in terms of the attitude of a murderer towards his dead victim. The last time Vronsky comes into the book, on his way to find death at the battlefront, he is suffering from a severe ache in all his teeth.

Anna is, of course, a much more interesting character, and we come much closer to her than we ever do to Vronsky. What ruins her life is firstly her inability to love her husband, and secondly, her pathological jealousy. Neither of these is entirely her fault, but she never had any help in tackling these problems. Nowadays she is generally seen as a tragic heroine. It is easy to see how this view can do a lot of harm: a woman who is not entirely happy in her marriage for some reason, reads Anna Karenina and thinks, “Ohh how romantic – just like me – I’m just like her…” and looks for a way of escape, instead of looking to see where the problem lies (including in her own behaviour) and trying to solve it and put her marriage on a better footing.

There are masses of other characters in the book, all of whom are compellingly realistic even though they are relatively “minor parts”.

It is a fascinating book to read from all sorts of different angles. At the level of sociology, it is worth comparing with books about other societies – most obviously, of course, Dickens, Gaskell, and other nineteenth-century English writers who describe the whole range of society; and writers of similar scope in other countries.