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Bowling Alone ::
Is human interaction quantifiable? Is it possbile for you or I to go out and put a numeric value on our connections with our neighbors, with other people in our cities? Or in a more broad sense, is it possible to find a marked drop in all levels of community involvement over, say, the last forty years? It would seem a daunting task to show something like that, to be sure. But on the other hand, I can’t help but think that there is a strong feeling of isolation among people of my generation. People my seem to be in a constant mode of dissent, of apathy toward making connections with other people, with political movements, or even with neighborhood groups. We sense a feeling of apathy and disengagement, but it is difficult to put a number on it. With that, it is even harder to show that there has been a marked decline in the amount of time we spend with each other or working together.
Robert Putnam used his command of sociology and of statistics crunching to show that there has in fact been a quantifiable decline in the amount of time and effort we put into working and living together. He looks at everything from declining voter turnout to activism to memberships in professional organizations and churches, and he sees a marked decline in all of our areas social engagement. And as a result, he sees our Social Captial -- the fabric of our social networks and our community ties, which we depend upon for our happiness and sometimes our very survival -- diminishing significantly. And though his reasons for this decline are, in my opinion, rather unoriginal an unprofound (he talks of television, urban sparwl, financial worries, and the dominance of television and other forms of major corporate media in our lives), he does define the problem in a very clear, objective manner, which in turn allows us to actually do something about our deterioriating state of connectedness. But therein lies the challenge: now that we have this knowledge, it is left up to us to actually do something about those problems.
Bowling Alone was a hard book to get through, both because of his constant riffing on statistics and the questions I continually brought up to myself about whether I’ve done enough to stay engaged in my life, or had I allowed myself to slip into a state of apathy and disengagement that has become such a real factor in our lives today. But it’s information I’m glad to have. I hope it has some lasting effect on me.
The Cobweb ::
I’ve never attempted to write under a pseudonym, but that won’t stop me from speculating about what it must be like to do so. My speculation goes like this: when you’re writing under a pseudonym, you are doing more than disguising your name; you are in fact creating a fictional writer, separate from yourself, who is actually writing the story. Sure, you’re sitting there, penning the words, but really this person, this figment of your imagination is the one who is actually writing the fiction. You are merely his proxy. The story is out of your control.
I bring this up because, as we should all know by now, Stephen Bury is in fact Neal Stephenson. At least, I’m pretty sure he is. Yes, he is. I know he is.
But no matter who Stephen Bury really is, he comes up with some pretty amazing shit in The Cobweb. Like the following: an ex-globe-trotting, surprisingly well-read deputy sheriff; a troublemaking Mormon CIA agent who, at the behest of an FBI shadow agent, stumbles across a potentially serious problem with US national Security; a boat ride with President Bush (the first one) on his cigarette boat up in Kinnebunkport (he is apparently a much nicer guy then he led on when he was on TV); and at the center of all this nonsense? A ventrenary science department at a fictional Iowa university that is manufacturing toxins to be used in bilogocal warfare, which is staffed by Iraqi scientists who are in the US on fake Jordanian visas. I mean, what else could possible bring such a disparate mix of people and events together? The story is raucous, funny, and I think I liked it because of its subtly mocking tone, which seemed to be poking fun at the whole genre of espionage fiction. (I, for one, always thought those espionage writers took themselves waaaaay too seriously).
So who knows -- Maybe Stephen Bury is Neal Stephenson. Then again, maybe he’s actually some surly neoconservative curmudgeon living outside of the Quad Cities (on the Iowa side of the river, of course), and it is there that he is working on his latest novel. No matter what, I hope for something else from this character, because beyond the great story line and the humorous one-liners, The Cobweb showed that if you take seriously the common sense and the conservative morals that have been bread into all of us Midwesterners, and if you let us cut through all that bureaucratic carreerism in Washington and the alterior motives of some high-ranking dimplomats, there isn’t a single terrorist plot that we can’t foil, or maniacal dictatorship we can’t topple. All have to do is give us a chance. The world would be a lot safer for it.
Straight Man ::
Character, it is said, is at the heart of any good story. When looked at in this respect, good storytelling is less about the relaying of events, and more about creating compelling characters to whom those events occur. Were we to accept this supposition as true, I think we could use Straight Man as a perfect piece of evidence to further our case. Because while there is a definite lack of significant events in this novel, I found myself tearing through it, wanting to find out just what was going to happen next.
This is both because I found a certain affection for the hero, William Henry Deveraux, Jr. An English Professor, Deveraux found himself chairing the department, which was in financial ruin. On top of dealing with the almost daily grievances that were filed against him by his colleagues (many of which may have been justified, even if those filing them were incorrigibly whiney), he was also dealing with a lack of a budget for the next semester, constant rumors that there was in a list of professors who would be laid off in the coming months being circulated by high members of the administration, and the simple fact that he just didn’t want this responsibility. Not to mention the fact that he could not pee and he was convinced it was the result of a kidney stone. To further confound his already-exasperated cohorts (and the reader, quite frankly), our hero threatens to execute a goose on local television. Though I cringed at just about everything he did, I also felt there was a certain plausibility to his behavior. I could identify with his contempt for authority, his resentment of the fact that he was in this position of power that he did not want, but also with his undeterred humor and the overwhelming sadness and despair undermined.
So, though nothing hugely tragic happens in this novel, and we find that the main character works diligently at making sure that events do not progress (seems that would be rather counter-productive to the development of a narrative, no?) I wanted to read Straight Man constantly, and once it was over, I couldn’t help but wish William Henry Deveraux Jr. luck in his quest to keep his life normal, predictable, and uproariously funny.
The Natural: The Misunderstood Presidency of Bill Clinton ::
After reading this book, I’ve now internalized three very specific characteristics of the Clinton Administration. First, there was Clinton’s personal issues -- such as his libido, seen in his propensity for getting involved in extramarital affairs, and his emotionally-driven possessiveness, which resulted in such awful policy decisions as the last-minute pardon of Marc Rich. Second, as a so-called “New Democrat” there was his constant struggle to balance his desire to push policies that promoted free trade and globalized economics with his need to keep ties to the more traditional (if ineffective) democrats in Congress. But finally, there was the point in history in which he was in office; Bill Clinton served his two terms as President during a time of peace and prosperity for the United States, but that time was also characterized by voter apathy and by a lack of any true political or military crisis. All three of these characteristics hurt Clinton’s ability to become the type of historically significant President he was hoping to become. At best, during this time he had to fight against becoming as irrelevant as his colleagues in the legislative branch; at worst, he had to lawyer himself out of a grand jury hearing and fight against being removed from office. But interspersed with all the crises that marred those eight years of the Clinton Administration, I can also see a President who was simultaneously a free market capitalist and an idealist, who believed that a strong economy, if it worked correctly, could do more than any government-sponsored program to raise people out of poverty and effectively save the world. His was a risky, unpopular political position to take, but more than any other, I believe it is the only one that will have any sort of lasting effect on the current state of affairs. And unfortunately, I’ve yet to see any politician stand behind that political position with any amount of vehemence since Clinton left office last year. After seeing what could have happened (were it not for the Clinton’s weaknesses), I truly hope that we do not lose sight of the possibilities such politics engenders, simply because such stances are unpopular or challenging; or, for that matter, that we give up on them simply because of the flaws of the last man President who really believed in them.
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