While it has the lofty pretentions (and near constant references) of great dystopian novels like 1984 or Fahrenheit 451, The Book ultimately falls flat. For starters, the premise of the story is ridiculous: in this future society, all paper books have been destroyed in the "Great Recycling" and replaced with e-readers that the government controls and feeds content to. This radically pro-environmentalist society is somehow founded on the belief that paper (a renewable resource that is easily recycled) is more dangerous to the environment than e-readers (made from all manner of non-renewable metals that are extremely damaging to the environment to extract, not to mention the environmental cost of the electricity needed to power them). Really? This highly implausible future seems to be fueled by the author’s own anti-environmental ideology, something that I honestly wouldn’t have a problem with had it been handled with a little more energy and conviction (think Robert A. Heinlein). The two main protagonists bond over the fact that they don’t care about the environment – but why? This seems like a fairly key element to understanding their motivation for rebelling against their society, but it’s just glossed over.



The feeling of "glossing over" is a by-product of the author’s writing style. The author spends an inordinate amount of time describing things rather than showing them to the reader. Almost nothing we learn about the protagonist (Holden) comes through his actions or his interactions with other characters – all of his background comes in dull expository dumps. We learn, for instance, that Holden grows in confidence as he moves along in his journey, ultimately becoming the leader of his little group. But rather than show us this growth to interpret for ourselves, the author just tells us this and moves along.



As for the plot itself, it’s not nearly as terrible. Holden learns of the shenanigans of the Book and the how the government uses it to observe and control its population. He rebels, finds allies, and gets punished by said government. With such uninteresting characters, it’s hard to really care at all what happens to them, but the various twists and turns at least provided some engagement in this dull book.



My biggest problem, however, is that The Book espouses the simpleminded idea that the trustworthiness of a work is determined by its medium of delivery – simply because a printed work is less easily changed, it cannot be controlled or manipulated. I’m guessing the author has never walked into a paper bookstore and seen a "revised and updated" edition, because paper can be changed as well! If anything, technology in publishing (from the printing press to the PC) has nearly always been a source of democratization.



Whether you prefer a printed book or a digital one is ultimately an issue of personal preference, not an issue of validity.



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I went into reading this book as a fairly committed follower of Bourdain in all his forms. I’ve watched nearly every episode of both his tv series and I’ve swallowed whole each of his previous non-fiction works. He’s opinionated and crankily entertaining, but truly capable of some brilliant insight into the nature of food, society and work. That said, all great artists eventually will begin to run out of steam if they continue with the same old shtick – and Medium Raw definitely feels like a drop-off from his prior works.



There’s an attempt, it seems, to reacquaint readers on the world of food that has passed since Kitchen Confidential was published. Sure, it’s interesting to get his take on fine dining in the wake of the economic collapse, but ultimately it’s nothing more than a cursory glance. Same story for the "food porn" chapter which really just seems like brief synopses of his favorite episodes of the Travel Channel show. You’re better off skipping this chapter entirely and reading A Cook’s Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisines.



Worst of all is how Bourdain wants to update on us on how he feels about various personalities in the cooking world. He likes Rachel Ray, Emeril and Jamie Oliver now, but has a new dislike for Ducasse and the James Beard house. Oh, but it’s good to know they can get back on his good side just by sending him a fruit basket. Slagging the (at the time) newly christened celebrity chefs might have seemed edgy in Kitchen Confidential, but now just feels like a whiny airing out of his beefs. It’s self-indulgent in the extreme.



What saves it is the chapters on his newfound life with his wife and daughter that are touching and bring out the better qualities of his writing. Best of all, however, is the chapter profiling Justo Thomas, the fish butcher at Le Bernardin. This is where Bourdain really excels – giving us a portrait of a man who is a master of his craft, an example of the hard-working, no-excuses world of cooking that Bourdain seeks to embody. It’s disappointing that the entire book could not have been imbued with the same enthusiasm and quality of storytelling that Bourdain brings here.



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What makes it so powerful is that Bacigalupi has rooted so much of his story in realism (as much as a story set in the future can be). The repelling of foreign invasion (particularly in the 19th century) has been a constant throughout Thailand’s history, and the pride in this history of independence is still deeply embedded in this future Thai culture. The internal political struggles mirror what Thailand has gone through in the past 100 years, with its frequent revolutions and government changes.

The following video is a an hour long talk by Bacigalupi on why he’s drawn to science fiction and how environmental issues shape his writing.

Is this for real? They made a big budget movie from a how-to relationship book for women?

Can we expect to see a Haynes Repair Manual movie next?

“…there’s the athleticism… and the way that strength and intelligence have to combine. It allows players to look beautiful and balletic in a way that some sports do not: a perfectly-timed diving header, or a perfectly-struck volley, allow the body to achieve a poise and grace that some sportsmen can never exhibit.”

(I would add to that list the last-second clearing of the ball off the line, an amazing feat that Bacary Sagna performed in yesterday’s game – a clip of which can be viewed here.)

Fever Pitch is, however, very un-bloglike in that it’s incredibly accessible, even for someone not so interested in soccer (like most Americans). In stark contrast, I don’t think any casual reader could make heads or tails of Arseblog or Gunnerblog. I think this speaks volumes about the value of both old (book) and new (blog) media and how both can coexist.

What Coke didn’t realize is that nobody drinks their soda under the same conditions as the taste tests were conducted – comparisons of sips from unmarked cups. The problem is nobody drinks sips of two different types of soda in the normal world. Additionally, all the associated emotions that come with your choice of soda are not taken into account. There’s a certain comfort that comes with certain brands – particularly ones as old as Coke.

Cole Camplese had a post a couple of weeks ago that reminded me of this issue of comfort. Students in his class had a negative reaction to the level of organization in the class, possibly because the course materials were placed on a blog instead of an LMS, or the class structure was more open and grounded in constructivism.

For all the talk by edu-theorists and edu-bloggers about open learning and constructivism/connectivism/whateverism, I wonder if the issue of discomfort will slow both learners and educators from moving in these directions. After all, it has taken nearly a decade for the LMS-based system for learning to gain widespread acceptance. God knows why, as I have found the Blackboard interface at USF to be terribly outdated and confusing. About two-thirds of the links lead to nothing, and categories are vague and frequently overlap. Yet when I look back at my graduate education, I’ll think fond thoughts about that useless dark green navigation bar on left hand side.

It’s comforting.

Malcolm Gladwell photo courtesy of niallkennedy.