Norton Juster’s “The Phantom Tollbooth” at 50

I absolutely loved everything about this book as a kid: The New Yorker reviews Norton Juster’s “The Phantom Tollbooth” at 50. I have the hardback set aside downstairs in my boxes, waiting to be read to my children. I especially related to this:

The other shaping experience was listening to the radio. As both artists stress, having a pure stream of sound as your major source of entertainment meant that your mind was already working imaginatively, without your necessarily realizing it.

Damn You, Harry Potter

As if working until 2AM each night this week wasn’t bad enough, I had to start The Deathly Hallows on the plane ride home from Orlando last weekend. Which means I was up until 4AM last night, unable to put the book down.

Overall impressions, from page 350 or so: It’s good. Not having read any of the other books in the series besides the first (but having seen almost all the movies in the theater), I can follow most of the story arcs sucessfully. I’m enjoying the character development and the plot is beginning to pick up steam, although it dragged on a bit through the first third of the book.

Usually I’ll power through a book I like in one sitting (even books this big), but I made a conscious decision to slow down and savor this one as much as possible—it’s been a while since I had some good escapist fiction to read, and it’s a welcome alternative to sitting in front of an LCD for 3/4 of the day.

Reading Material.

From the introduction of Imperial Grunts, by Robert D. Kaplan:

Imperialism is but a form of isolationism, in which the demand for absolute, undefiled security at home leads one to conquer the world, and in the process to become subject to all the world’s anxieties. …By the time an imperial reality becomes truly manifest, it is a sign that the apex of empire is at hand, with a gradual retreat more likely than fresh conquests.

(The first sentence is attributed to Erich Gruen, from The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome. )

There is a lot to learn from this book, both from the civilian noncombatant side and from the political realist’s side. I’m attempting to do some illustrations for this book as a self-commissioned project, and I find the conflicting messages it contains hard to boil down into digestible images. One one hand, the special teams we place in foreign countries (and there are a lot more than you think there are, in places you never imagined) are training indigenous armies, helping the local populations with health and sanitation projects, and providing security for government officials. On the other hand, they are severely limited by the Rules of Engagement to certain numbers of advisors, specific locations of operation, methods of training, and ability to engage in combat, which limits their abilities to influence real change. While these limitations are debatable on a case-by-case basis, the idea that narcotrafficking in places like Columbia could be severely curtailed by a 6-month field operation by one Alpha team (suggested by an SF operative in the book) is a tempting one.

That fundamental reality, in contrast to the wild west atmosphere of Mongolia experienced by the Alpha teams stationed there, is a jarring one. What I’m attempting to convey is a sense of ability and professionalism—I don’t think any of these soldiers is bloodthirsty or evil, even if I might not agree with the policy that put them where they are—with the underlying sense of frustration I feel from the stories they tell. These are guys who live in a storage container inside barbed-wire fences in 105° heat for months at a time, in constant danger of assassination, who then immunize the local population and help dig wells for their crops. It’s also fascinating to read about the newer generation of non Vietnam-veteran soldiers complain about the hangovers still lingering from that war—and realize that those lessons are important. I’d like to believe that the initial U.S. involvement in Vietnam (a handful of Special Forces advisors to the democratic government in the early ’60′s) was not begun with the eventual ramp-up in mind, but I also see increased combatant-level involvement in foreign countries as the slippery slope it is. Finally, it’s refreshing and humbling to read about the individual soldiers, who are handpicked because of their abilities, intelligence, and maturity—a far cry from the Rambo/loose cannon propaganda we Americans are fed daily. As mass-market entertainment, the solutions on the current TV show “The Unit” are tidy 45-minute happy endings, but they reflect a childish, immature view of real world problems.

I’m only halfway through the book now, but I’d recommend it for anyone who is interested in the way America is attempting to fight smaller wars on multiple fronts in the 21st century, based on the idea that a few men with the right ideas can force a major turn of events:

The notion that vast historical forces could be tipped by the right individuals exerting pressure in the right spot has always offered an attractive antidote to fatalism.

* * *

I’ve also been working on self-commissioned illustrations for an article that ran in the New Yorker a month or so back, about the Administration’s ignorance and subjugation of science for its own purposes. The New York Times magazine ran an article a few months ago on the same subject, and it’s something that resonated with me.

This is my first tentative set of steps back into the conceptual pool, and it’s going slowly and painfully. My brain was wired pretty well when I was in college to think editorially, but those muscles are weak and puny now. I’ve been hitting up against this wall for a week now, and while I have some things resolved I still can’t make the whole thing work correctly.

But now I’ve spent enough time writing and not enough time thinking. Back to work.

1:56pm.

Mrs. Lockard is worsening. The nurse administering the meds gives her a couple of days at most. Jen is exhausted from dealing with both the family and her mother, and fighting off a cold.

All By Myself. Whenever Jen is away, I seem to revert back to my bachelor ways, which means I eat whatever is left around the house. Last night my feast consisted of a PB&J sandwich, the rest of the Doritos from Thanksgiving (our house is so dry, they were not even close to stale) and a glass of grapefruit juice. Now, before anybody gets upset, this is not a cry for help: usually when I’m alone, I try to fill up my time with projects that wouldn’t normally fly while Jen is around. (Would you want your husband sanding drywall outside your bedroom door at 11:30pm?) Thus, there’s not a whole lot of time to fuss with food. Unfortunately, the hallway repair project is drawing out longer than hoped—the walls have been abused so much that it’s taking longer than expected to smooth out the craters. By the end of this week, though, we should have new outlets on both sides of the hall and on the stair landing, as well as primer on most of the walls.

Because of an inexplicable lapse in New Yorker deliveries, I started reading The Lovely Bones last night before going to sleep—it looks to be good so far. I was joined by three very lonely cats, who proceeded to hootch up on me so tightly that I was effectively stapled to the bed. We all miss Jen.

OK, and now for some humor. This blog is one I’ve been following for about a year now, and it never ceases to make me laugh. Check the archives, too- you’ll snort your Quik through your nose, I promise.

Quick links. Protect your privacy. | Tsunami | Bye, Jerry. | Finally, another creative use for the iPod.

Airplane Ride.

Jen drove to the LP City last night after work to see her Mom, and got about ten minutes in with her before they threw her on a medevac chopper to Georgetown University Hospital. Mrs. Lockard is resting now, but things continue to seesaw between Bad and Nearly As Bad.

I bought the Eric Meyer book at Border’s this morning, paying the extra $15 just to have it now (quite a penalty, when Amazon is throwing in free shipping), but so far it’s pretty decent. I’d recommend having a good grasp of CSS before you start, as there’s stuff in the first chapter he’s hitting you with that you may or may not be familiar with. (The book assumes you have a working grasp of CSS and its properties, but haven’t really made the leap to CSS layout.) I’m halfway through the first chapter, and it’s a good study so far.

Unable to join Jen for what was planned as an overnight stay, I accepted the invitation of a couple guys at work to mountain bike last night, which meant I had to dust off Andre The Giant and try to locate all of my biking gear. We rode a reasonably easy trail up at Loch Raven, which predictably kicked my out-of-shape butt three ways to Sunday. (not to mention it feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse back there.) But it did feel good to get outside and ride again.

Weekend Update.

dugan discount liquors, reisterstown, md, 7.16.04 (thanks baby)

Saturday Jen and I put a day of work into the crumbling pile of wood we call a house; I got 90% of the back side of the house painted while Jen waded into the gardens to wrestle the weeds into submission. I will now sing the praises of the Wagner Power Painter to the heavens, build it an altar in the living room, and raise our children to leave it offerings of tobacco and corn. What took me all day to roll by hand in front took about four hours with the sprayer, and I’d estimate that two of those hours were pure ladderwork. (The back of the house features all three main wires to the house: cable, phone, and electrical, which makes moving an aluminum ladder a sphincter-tightening proposition.) Finding the correct mixture of thinning additive to the paint took a few tries, but once I figured it out, the paint went on like butter—and evenly, too.

Saturday I experienced my first book club meeting, which was a pretty harmless good time with a new bunch of folks. Slaughterhouse-Five turned out to be a quick but interesting read, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is the next book on the list. Thankfully, the game of Risk never made it to the floor after the discussion was over, and we left in good cheer.

From four online form requests for a roofing estimate, I’ve gotten a grand total of one reply.

(Today I sent this letter to the Baltimore City Mayor, Martin O’Malley, who rode a float in the Catonsville 4th of July parade.)

Mr. Mayor:

As a new transplant from Baltimore City to the town of Catonsville, I was pretty embarrassed by the treatment your family got during the parade a few weeks ago. My wife and I recently bought a house on Frederick Road and hosted a party with bunch of other city-dwelling folks, the majority of whom I’d call O’Malley supporters. We cheered as you passed by (and, I have to admit, my wife has a crush on you. I’m glad you didn’t stop long in front of our house, for the sake of my marriage) but I’m afraid we were in the minority.

It took a lot of guts to take part in that parade, considering the pronounced Republican slant of the town, and I have to take my hat off to you, and offer an apology for the boorish behavior of the rest of the town.

I hope, at least, you and your family had fun on the rest of the day. Thanks for coming out.

-Bill Dugan

Wedding Pictures.

Not that I’m that kind of person, but I took about four hours last night scanning and sharpening forty more wedding photos to post for our scattered family members. Because there are so many of them, ( 82 at last count, 5.8MB worth, and I ain’t done yet) I can’t post them here for fear of the server getting hammered, so if you’re dying to see some, leave me a comment below and I’ll email you the link offline.

New Music. I’ve recently become aware of, and addicted to, a number of audioblogs—sites dedicated to semi-obscure music not given lots of mainstream attention; there are a few favorites so far. I also found the audio secion of the Internet Archive, which has a pile of good live recordings by favorite bands such as Soul Coughing and Lake Trout. Check it out.

Random Car Junk. This morning there was a beautiful wine and gold colored Citro‘n 2CV parked in our neighborhood; I didn’t have my camera with me, unfortunately. There was also a blue MGB parked further down the road with a “For Sale” sign in the window—not that we could afford one, but it’s sure nice to dream. Also, our neighbor gave me his folder of records for the Jeep, and something even more valuable: the Haynes repair guide for the Cherokee. Where the Chilton’s books are Cliff’s Notes, the Haynes books are the Expanded Annotated Illustrated King James Bible of repair books (unless you shell out the big bucks for the Chilton’s shop manual.) I read through the first chapter of the Jeep book last night and learned more in five minutes than a week of puzzling over the alternative.

On the list for purchasing this payday: Web Standards Solutions. I’ve been looking for a good book to dive into for getting further into CSS page design (this site will be redesigned soon), and it looks like this might be the one. (via dominey)

Excellent Article.

Read this and tell me if you still feel like keeping the current administration in power. I’ve found my illustration subject for the week.

To-do list for Italy.

1. Travel books
2. Power adapter—iPod, Camera, and Powerbook
3. New walking sneakers
4. Weather information
5. Copy of Indigo for the house lights, 2 more light controllers.

Debate.

Besides the fact that I’m pissed that the debate is only available on MSNBC, the Democratic candidates all sound very good. I’m impressed with all of these guys, and they all have made some fantastic points. Dean doesn’t sound as good as Clark or Kerry; I like Kuchinich’s points and gusto, Lieberman sounds like he finally woke up, and Sharpton impressed me with a couple of great points. Food for thought.

Greasy Kid Stuff. Our buddy Nate is one of the more intelligent people I’ve ever met. There are only a few people on this earth I know who can lead a conversation through science fiction, programming, anime, music trivia, politics, and random philosophy safely without losing anybody; the man is sort of a geek buddha. There are a few areas where I tease him goodnaturedly, and because he is a benevolent, friendly fellow, he doesn’t kick my ass.

Among the many choices for fast food here in Happy Valley, there is a tasty Iranian kabob restaurant in a nondescript strip mall. The food is good, the service is friendly, and the garlic in the food has a half-life of fifty years or so. Next door to this restaurant is a store where Nate buys comic books. He’s unapologetic about this, for which I give him credit (some guys get all mad and insist that they’re called “graphic novels”, not comix, as if a different name for a picture book featuring guys in leotards makes it literature), and I’ve often followed him in there to browse while we wait for our food. Now, I’ve not bought a comic book in ten years or more, so it’s always kind of strange to walk in there with him. I don’t want to be that guy, the one who has a whole wing of his house devoted to boxes of comic books, or the shifty guy who buys the anime porn on the top shelf, or the guy who has the bust of Spider-Man on his dresser. I like books that have a good story, or look pretty, or in some rare cases, both.

So I see some Hellboy comix on the shelf, and think back to the ones Nate showed me, which I liked. I find a book that I haven’t seen, which looks great, and… I take it up to the counter. Unfolding my wallet, Ronnie James Dio starts singing “Stranger In The Dark” on the radio behind the counter. And suddenly, I’m that dork wearing the denim jacket in 1987 all over again.

It is a good book, though.

(Note: I did not like Ronnie James Dio in high school. I was just surrounded by people who did.)

Pop Media Recap. There’s a disturbing ad on the radio right now for Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club in downtown Baltimore where they’re promoting midget oatmeal wrestling. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the thought of midgets wrestling in breakfast cereal, or the way the dumb announcer chick pronounces the word ‘eoowwt-meel’ in that peculiar Baltimore dialect. There’s no accent more disturbing than a Balwmore accent, Hon.

I disagree completely with this reviewer’s take on Psyence Fiction, so I’m taking his review of the new UNKLE album with a large grain of salt.

Jen and I caught the Kajagoogoo episode of Bands Reunited on VH1 last weekend; besides humming the melody of “Too Shy” for the rest of the day, we thought it was pretty good. The band seems to have dealt with their meteoric rise and sudden plunge to obscurity pretty well; they were able to put aside their differences with relative ease and it looked like they had a great time playing together again. Discussion topic: Why would anyone change their name to “Limahl”?

Let The Humor Begin.

I got this from Jen this morning, under the heading I have a totally sick sense of humor: “All Wal-Mart and K-Mart stores in Iraq will be closing on or before March 17th. After that, they will all become Targets.”

Winner, Worst Customer Support/Runner-Up, Poorly Designed Website: NikonUSA. Go to their site and attempt to find the support section. Or, try to find an informational page on a camera not created in Flash. Flash should be banished to designers’ websites, K10K, and humorous 2-minute cartoon videos, not commercial product pages. Get that through your thick, vacant skulls, you marketing hacks.

Meanwhile, Nikon does not have the manual available as a PDF on their site, and the printed version is backordered for up to three weeks. Thanks.

Runner-Up, Worst Customer Support: Buy.com, for only responding to inquiries via email and charging $9.95 to talk to a warm body. I’m about ( ) this close to cancelling the order. On the positive side, I got the memory I ordered this afternoon.

On other fronts, I visited Mike Lee’s site and noticed he’s jetting out to Portland to attend an information architecture summit. I got to thinking, and did a little research, and I’m looking at a few different associations around the country wondering if joining would be a worthwhile investment. I definitely have some required reading to catch up on—a good idea for my upcoming plane rides.

All that led me to Chris Crawford’s excellent (and weighty) repository of game development (and other) writing. There’s lots to read and digest in here, and I’m looking forward to diving in.