I don’t read true crime. I watch a popular true crime TV series, and I get scared. I overhear a true crime podcast, and I hear strange sounds in the apartment. But I, like so many other people, cannot help but be fascinated by such stories. The popularity of the genre cannot be understated. Why is the true crime section is so huge at most public libraries? Or why does it seem like there is a new unsolved crime documentary every other month, and seemingly everyone has watched it? Despite my weak constitution, I still devour the documentaries and follow up on the stories because they fascinate me. This was part of the reason I picked up my first true crime book.
The Man from the Train, by Bill and Rachel James, is a heart-pounding, yet humorous study on a presumed serial killer whose crimes have been unsolved for over a hundred years. That’s right: one hundred years. Now, the other reason I picked up this book, admittedly, was the author. Possibly you recognize the name, Bill James, from something other than true crime1. For years, I had been a fan of his pioneering of baseball statistics.
Although this is not James’ first foray into true crime, it gives him a chance to use his research and analytical skills to attempt to solve this century-old murder. The amount of research the father and daughter team complete is just astounding. Think about it: the crimes would have been reported by local newspapers--and that’s about it. This was about forty years before TV and eighty years before the Internet, so news didn’t get around very fast. Despite working with biased, racist, and incomplete primary sources, they are able to compile a laundry list of crimes with several similarities that lead to a certain conclusion.
It is only fair to allow you to discover that conclusion, as the authors are very careful not to lead in one way or another. They state their ideas clearly, but want the reader to arrive at their own in due course. And you will form an opinion after seeing the purported evidence (an opinion which, in all likelihood, will be similar to the authors). There is nothing misleading about the details presented. Instead, they are upfront when presenting both information as fact and information as conjecture. That information may shape you, but it does not force you to agree with the authors. There is room for interpretation--albeit not much room.
Finally, the book is actually hilarious, or as hilarious as a book about an axe murderer could be. If you are familiar with Bill James' work on baseball statistics, you are probably familiar with his distinctive voice. The tone is almost conversational, addressing the reader directly, joking casually about incompetent law enforcement, or openly criticizing racist accusations of the early 20th century America. Not that they don't take the story seriously, but the authors make light when they can, surely appreciated in this gruesome, tragic story. If you are new to true crime, this is a great book to start. If you are a longtime fan, you won't be disappointed either.
1 Briefly, Bill James wrote articles and books asking new questions about baseball performance. He invented new stats as a way to measure and compare players, ultimately publishing his Historical Baseball Abstract, the sacred text to baseball and statistics nerds. If you’ve read Moneyball or seen the film, you know who this is.↩
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Friday, September 29, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
Best Thing I Did Last Week: Read Stamped... and Listen to Between...
Stamped from the Beginning is a heavy book. The fact that it is a physically large book notwithstanding, the debut work from Ibram X. Kendi, historian and African studies professor, tackles some incredibly tense issues. And with a subtitle that reads, “The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America,” you will know exactly what to expect, which is to say that it is not a pleasant book. In fact, the majority is understandably troubling. However, this does not make the presented facts any less important. Instead, the upsetting nature makes the book all the more challenging and powerful.
Professor Kendi divides the book into five chronological subsections, each headed by a principal character of each era. Those characters have defining roles in racial relations of each time period, ranging from emphatic civil rights activists to prominent racist agitators, with some situated confoundingly in between. The effect of framing each era around a major figure, regardless of that person’s stance, serves to analyze each individual era in the development of racist ideas throughout the history of the country. Rather than title each section based on a certain era in the country as a whole, Kendi personalizes each section by following the individual, a unique choice for a book of this type.
Over the course of the book’s 500-some pages, Kendi demonstrates an incredible amount of research. Every era is thorough and well-documented, and you get the impression that he has dedicated years to tracking down all of the quotes, passages, and works he references. The way Kendi manages to walk through the history, however, does not feel simply like reciting facts and quotes. He expertly leads a train of thought through the history in a logical manner, drawing conclusions among different participants. At the same time, though, Kendi does not force an opinion on the reader. Of course, it would be difficult to read this book and not arrive at a conclusion. Personally, I think this book is required reading for anyone with an interest in American history.
Around the same time, I put on the audiobook for Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It is a short listen (the book is only about 180 pages), but another powerful one. Presented as a letter to the author’s son, Between the World and Me describes what it is like to be a Black individual in present day America. Coates describes his reactions to injustices both personal and in the news (which is heartbreaking, naturally). Furthermore, he narrates his own audiobook, so his words are quite literally his own. Imagine listening to this on your commute, and then picking up Stamped from the Beginning at home.
At this point, I was concerned that my high praise of the two books was based on the terrible concept of purported ‘white guilt,’1 (because I also felt similarly about James Baldwin’s anti-racist treatise, The Fire Next Time, after reading it last year). The more I thought about it, though, the more that seemed preposterous. No, I appreciated all three books because the writing is emotional and beautiful. The subject matter inspires the writers, to be sure, which affects the sheer impact of the words. But subject matter does not define the sole reason these books are excellent.
What originally drew my attention to this book was the 2016 National Book Awards. Stamped from the Beginning rightfully received the honor of being the best literary work in non-fiction. After reading it, I wholeheartedly agree. It is the perfect complement, if you are interested further, to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, the previous year’s recipient of the National Book Award. In fact, I suggest experiencing them back-to-back, but you should probably plan for a happy read afterwards. Not only was Stamped from the Beginning the best non-fiction book I read in the last year, it is one that will stay with me for a long time.
1 The despicable idea that groups of (white) people can and should feel shame for the racist ways their ancestors treated other people. On its own, this may not seem like a bad thing, but it can be if it is equated to false or hypocritical social progression. The term de-legitimizes the ability to appreciate a racial critique by turning it instead into some sort of apology. Honestly, I think accusations of ‘white guilt’ are both reductive and offensive to considerations dealing with works about race. Instead, we can appreciate the works for what they are: excellent literature.↩
Professor Kendi divides the book into five chronological subsections, each headed by a principal character of each era. Those characters have defining roles in racial relations of each time period, ranging from emphatic civil rights activists to prominent racist agitators, with some situated confoundingly in between. The effect of framing each era around a major figure, regardless of that person’s stance, serves to analyze each individual era in the development of racist ideas throughout the history of the country. Rather than title each section based on a certain era in the country as a whole, Kendi personalizes each section by following the individual, a unique choice for a book of this type.
Over the course of the book’s 500-some pages, Kendi demonstrates an incredible amount of research. Every era is thorough and well-documented, and you get the impression that he has dedicated years to tracking down all of the quotes, passages, and works he references. The way Kendi manages to walk through the history, however, does not feel simply like reciting facts and quotes. He expertly leads a train of thought through the history in a logical manner, drawing conclusions among different participants. At the same time, though, Kendi does not force an opinion on the reader. Of course, it would be difficult to read this book and not arrive at a conclusion. Personally, I think this book is required reading for anyone with an interest in American history.
Around the same time, I put on the audiobook for Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It is a short listen (the book is only about 180 pages), but another powerful one. Presented as a letter to the author’s son, Between the World and Me describes what it is like to be a Black individual in present day America. Coates describes his reactions to injustices both personal and in the news (which is heartbreaking, naturally). Furthermore, he narrates his own audiobook, so his words are quite literally his own. Imagine listening to this on your commute, and then picking up Stamped from the Beginning at home.
At this point, I was concerned that my high praise of the two books was based on the terrible concept of purported ‘white guilt,’1 (because I also felt similarly about James Baldwin’s anti-racist treatise, The Fire Next Time, after reading it last year). The more I thought about it, though, the more that seemed preposterous. No, I appreciated all three books because the writing is emotional and beautiful. The subject matter inspires the writers, to be sure, which affects the sheer impact of the words. But subject matter does not define the sole reason these books are excellent.
What originally drew my attention to this book was the 2016 National Book Awards. Stamped from the Beginning rightfully received the honor of being the best literary work in non-fiction. After reading it, I wholeheartedly agree. It is the perfect complement, if you are interested further, to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, the previous year’s recipient of the National Book Award. In fact, I suggest experiencing them back-to-back, but you should probably plan for a happy read afterwards. Not only was Stamped from the Beginning the best non-fiction book I read in the last year, it is one that will stay with me for a long time.
1 The despicable idea that groups of (white) people can and should feel shame for the racist ways their ancestors treated other people. On its own, this may not seem like a bad thing, but it can be if it is equated to false or hypocritical social progression. The term de-legitimizes the ability to appreciate a racial critique by turning it instead into some sort of apology. Honestly, I think accusations of ‘white guilt’ are both reductive and offensive to considerations dealing with works about race. Instead, we can appreciate the works for what they are: excellent literature.↩
Monday, October 17, 2016
Bob Dylan, Author
Earlier this week, Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. This was naturally a very controversial decision in the literary community. Dylan entered the nomination process with the low odds of winning--because of course you can bet on the Nobel Prize--set at 50 to 1. His mere appearance in the probabilities was considered laughable by most experts; however, Bob Dylan defied his slim odds. Now, many of those experts are not happy with the academy’s decision.
In the opinion of many, the selection of Bob Dylan gives short shrift to many equally qualified poets and novelists. The award is ostensibly intended for the person who contributes the most literary merit. As with most sides of our culture anymore, the award has become overly politicized, but the intention remains the same. At the very least, the Nobel Prize in Literature is representative of high-quality literature. So what is the issue with Dylan? Why are critics so up in arms about his qualifications?
The most obvious complaint is that Dylan is ‘just a musician.’ Some would say that he has no business being compared to the eminent authors of today, or (my favorite) that he should refuse the award in favor of someone more qualified. Ridiculous. In what world is writing music not considered literature? Sure, music may not be the traditional concept of a prosaic novel, but music is no different from poetry, in that it is lines of words assembled to tell a message. Moreover, music is typically performed; a musician performing at a coffee shop is hardly different from the poet who reads his or her work at the same coffee shop. The Prize has been awarded to people who produced more or less exclusively poetry. So until I hear a definition that clearly separates poetry from music, I refuse to accept that being a musician immediately disqualifies one for the award. Reducing to Bob Dylan to just a musician and claiming he is unworthy of the award is absurd.
The next, slightly more acceptable argument is that Bob Dylan’s quality of work is not on par with some of the other authors up for the award. The reason this argument is more acceptable is simple: it is perfectly fine not to like someone’s artistic output. But to claim that he does not deserve an award because his work is not appreciated is not a valid argument. For one, regardless of his style of music or his vocal talents, several of his songs became emblematic of specific times in our history as a country. Besides, this subjective nature arises with any and every award. There will be disagreements with any choice, but these do not invalidate the recipient. Was The Heist really the best rap album of 2014? Exactly.
Finally, we have the sheer length of Bob Dylan’s career. This is not so much an argument, inasmuch as there is not a lot of room for disagreement. He has been actively recording for music for an astounding fifty years. Half a century! Over the course of his career, he has put out at least three (probably more like six) of the most important albums in the history of American music. This is not really much of an overstatement, either. Few recording artists can demonstrate such a consistency of releases over such a long period of time.
This year’s Nobel Prize in Literature was unique. It is the equivalent of a particularly cinematic video game being considered for an Oscar (which I would also defend). The fact that this is the first time it has been awarded to a musician is special. But for the first choice of musicians, Bob Dylan is certainly an exceptional one.
In the opinion of many, the selection of Bob Dylan gives short shrift to many equally qualified poets and novelists. The award is ostensibly intended for the person who contributes the most literary merit. As with most sides of our culture anymore, the award has become overly politicized, but the intention remains the same. At the very least, the Nobel Prize in Literature is representative of high-quality literature. So what is the issue with Dylan? Why are critics so up in arms about his qualifications?
The most obvious complaint is that Dylan is ‘just a musician.’ Some would say that he has no business being compared to the eminent authors of today, or (my favorite) that he should refuse the award in favor of someone more qualified. Ridiculous. In what world is writing music not considered literature? Sure, music may not be the traditional concept of a prosaic novel, but music is no different from poetry, in that it is lines of words assembled to tell a message. Moreover, music is typically performed; a musician performing at a coffee shop is hardly different from the poet who reads his or her work at the same coffee shop. The Prize has been awarded to people who produced more or less exclusively poetry. So until I hear a definition that clearly separates poetry from music, I refuse to accept that being a musician immediately disqualifies one for the award. Reducing to Bob Dylan to just a musician and claiming he is unworthy of the award is absurd.
The next, slightly more acceptable argument is that Bob Dylan’s quality of work is not on par with some of the other authors up for the award. The reason this argument is more acceptable is simple: it is perfectly fine not to like someone’s artistic output. But to claim that he does not deserve an award because his work is not appreciated is not a valid argument. For one, regardless of his style of music or his vocal talents, several of his songs became emblematic of specific times in our history as a country. Besides, this subjective nature arises with any and every award. There will be disagreements with any choice, but these do not invalidate the recipient. Was The Heist really the best rap album of 2014? Exactly.
Finally, we have the sheer length of Bob Dylan’s career. This is not so much an argument, inasmuch as there is not a lot of room for disagreement. He has been actively recording for music for an astounding fifty years. Half a century! Over the course of his career, he has put out at least three (probably more like six) of the most important albums in the history of American music. This is not really much of an overstatement, either. Few recording artists can demonstrate such a consistency of releases over such a long period of time.
This year’s Nobel Prize in Literature was unique. It is the equivalent of a particularly cinematic video game being considered for an Oscar (which I would also defend). The fact that this is the first time it has been awarded to a musician is special. But for the first choice of musicians, Bob Dylan is certainly an exceptional one.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Writings from Solaris
High quality science fiction is not always easy to find. On occasion, I will pick up a book that looks intriguing, only to find that it includes the same tropes in all other sci-fi stories. It must be hard to generate innovative science fiction that doesn’t rely on the same story pitting humans against aliens, or something like that1. Films and video games have the same problem--as if humans fighting aliens is the only concept left to explore in the scope of science fiction2.
Eventually, you have to look to classic science fiction to fulfill this need for original stories. After some recommendation, I came across the brief, but impactful novel by Stanislaw Lem, Solaris. It was really an astounding read, set around a confounding planet that has futuristic scientists of Earth baffled, featuring an astronaut more or less trapped in orbit of the planet. Described as a philosophical science fiction novel, the reader experiences similar emotions to the astronaut--at times, he is comfortable with his surroundings despite only having studied and read about it; at other times, he is horrified with the effects the planet is having on himself and his fellow scientists.
Solaris (1961 novel) The novel is about an astronaut and psychologist named Kelvin who is sent to a distant planet after some disturbing and unclear messages are transmitted about bizarre happenings on the surrounding space station. It becomes apparent quickly, however, that the story is not about the characters, but the planet itself. Even after being studied for generations, very little is known about the planet. Specialized scientists, called Solarists, have come to the general agreement that the planet is not an object, but more of a conscious being. Being mostly liquid or plasma, the planet appears to respond to external influences, namely the attempts of the scientists to establish contact. Throughout the events, the planet does not come across as hostile; it is merely reactionary.
What the novel does well, among other things, is by giving a fair amount of description to the science surrounding the planet. The science does not feel invented or self-serving to the story. Instead it feels like the branch of study has been established and evolved over generations. The descriptions of the capabilities of the planet are feasible and realistic.
Shortly after arriving to the space station, Kelvin begins receiving a visitor from his past, who it becomes clear, is a creation by the planet based on his consciousness. The other scientists on the ship are dealing with similar apparitions; it has driven one man to suicide. The book chronicles how Kelvin along with his visitor grow together. It approaches a natural point where the two are questioning their own humanity, obviously a conundrum for a human and his apparition.
After finishing the novel, I knew I wanted to track down both film adaptations to see how they compared.
Solaris (1972 film) This is an excellent rendition of the original source material. Directed by the Russian visionary, Andrei Tarkovsky, the film is as much an art film as it is science fiction. It is long (almost three hours) and very sparse, with several scenes of Kelvin, solitary, taking in his natural surroundings. Garnering a Criterion Collection release, there are very few shots wasted, including a striking sequence where a car drives into Tokyo with the sound effects of a shuttle taking off. Interestingly, the author of the novel, Stanislaw Lem, was not pleased with the outcome of the film, as it took too many liberties from the novel. Tarkovsky plays with the effect of having little to no sound at times to demonstrate the isolation Kelvin sometimes feels both on Earth and on the space station. The film definitely does not rely on special effects (this was five years before Star Wars innovated upon flashy effects), but the depictions of the planet are no less striking. And while I do not want to give too much away, I will say the ending, the slow pan-out, must be seen to be believed.
Solaris (2002 film) The 2002 remake of the earlier film is not as good, though it is far from disappointing. It does accomplish much of the original message of the book, but there are some details added that detract from the story. Reported, James Cameron had wanted to make a new version of the film for some time, and he was able to produce it with the direction of Steven Soderbergh. Together these two filmmaking icons obviously brought their own styles to the story. The external shots of the planet are breathtaking--expect nothing less from a Cameron production. My issues with the film concern the extended sequences of George Clooney’s reminiscence of his time on Earth. Much shorter than the 1972 film, this version uses a lot of valuable screen time away from the space station. There was also an added twist to the story that seemed more akin to the modern, generic sci-fi tropes I mentioned earlier. It did little to add to the suspense and certainly was not necessary here. And the ending, while it attempted to recapture the classic film, personally did not have the same striking success.
Probably the most powerful message from any of the versions is that the scientists are disrupting a planet that they truly do not understand. The planet is so incomprehensible that its “motives” could be almost anything. It could be trying to establish benevolent contact by providing an image of loved ones; or it could be attempting to drive the scientists to madness, and thus away from continually studying it. Again, while there is never a sense of hostility from the planet, there is almost always a sense of unease. We know there is something wrong with the “visitors” but, like Kelvin, we feel strangely comfortable with it. The dangers in the story do not feel as if they are caused by the environment, but rather at a psychological level. And all three tellings of the story capture this sense, in different ways. Essentially, however you go about this story, in whichever order, it is an enjoyable and thought-provoking experience.
1 This is not to say this type of story always fails. War of the Worlds is a classic novel, and Aliens is one of my favorite movies.↩
2 Substitute dragons and orcs for aliens, and the same holds true for fantasy. Simply having epic wars of mythical beings is not the key to quality fantasy. Finding good fantasy is often difficult, as well.↩
Eventually, you have to look to classic science fiction to fulfill this need for original stories. After some recommendation, I came across the brief, but impactful novel by Stanislaw Lem, Solaris. It was really an astounding read, set around a confounding planet that has futuristic scientists of Earth baffled, featuring an astronaut more or less trapped in orbit of the planet. Described as a philosophical science fiction novel, the reader experiences similar emotions to the astronaut--at times, he is comfortable with his surroundings despite only having studied and read about it; at other times, he is horrified with the effects the planet is having on himself and his fellow scientists.
Solaris (1961 novel) The novel is about an astronaut and psychologist named Kelvin who is sent to a distant planet after some disturbing and unclear messages are transmitted about bizarre happenings on the surrounding space station. It becomes apparent quickly, however, that the story is not about the characters, but the planet itself. Even after being studied for generations, very little is known about the planet. Specialized scientists, called Solarists, have come to the general agreement that the planet is not an object, but more of a conscious being. Being mostly liquid or plasma, the planet appears to respond to external influences, namely the attempts of the scientists to establish contact. Throughout the events, the planet does not come across as hostile; it is merely reactionary.
What the novel does well, among other things, is by giving a fair amount of description to the science surrounding the planet. The science does not feel invented or self-serving to the story. Instead it feels like the branch of study has been established and evolved over generations. The descriptions of the capabilities of the planet are feasible and realistic.
Shortly after arriving to the space station, Kelvin begins receiving a visitor from his past, who it becomes clear, is a creation by the planet based on his consciousness. The other scientists on the ship are dealing with similar apparitions; it has driven one man to suicide. The book chronicles how Kelvin along with his visitor grow together. It approaches a natural point where the two are questioning their own humanity, obviously a conundrum for a human and his apparition.
After finishing the novel, I knew I wanted to track down both film adaptations to see how they compared.
Solaris (1972 film) This is an excellent rendition of the original source material. Directed by the Russian visionary, Andrei Tarkovsky, the film is as much an art film as it is science fiction. It is long (almost three hours) and very sparse, with several scenes of Kelvin, solitary, taking in his natural surroundings. Garnering a Criterion Collection release, there are very few shots wasted, including a striking sequence where a car drives into Tokyo with the sound effects of a shuttle taking off. Interestingly, the author of the novel, Stanislaw Lem, was not pleased with the outcome of the film, as it took too many liberties from the novel. Tarkovsky plays with the effect of having little to no sound at times to demonstrate the isolation Kelvin sometimes feels both on Earth and on the space station. The film definitely does not rely on special effects (this was five years before Star Wars innovated upon flashy effects), but the depictions of the planet are no less striking. And while I do not want to give too much away, I will say the ending, the slow pan-out, must be seen to be believed.
Solaris (2002 film) The 2002 remake of the earlier film is not as good, though it is far from disappointing. It does accomplish much of the original message of the book, but there are some details added that detract from the story. Reported, James Cameron had wanted to make a new version of the film for some time, and he was able to produce it with the direction of Steven Soderbergh. Together these two filmmaking icons obviously brought their own styles to the story. The external shots of the planet are breathtaking--expect nothing less from a Cameron production. My issues with the film concern the extended sequences of George Clooney’s reminiscence of his time on Earth. Much shorter than the 1972 film, this version uses a lot of valuable screen time away from the space station. There was also an added twist to the story that seemed more akin to the modern, generic sci-fi tropes I mentioned earlier. It did little to add to the suspense and certainly was not necessary here. And the ending, while it attempted to recapture the classic film, personally did not have the same striking success.
* * *
Probably the most powerful message from any of the versions is that the scientists are disrupting a planet that they truly do not understand. The planet is so incomprehensible that its “motives” could be almost anything. It could be trying to establish benevolent contact by providing an image of loved ones; or it could be attempting to drive the scientists to madness, and thus away from continually studying it. Again, while there is never a sense of hostility from the planet, there is almost always a sense of unease. We know there is something wrong with the “visitors” but, like Kelvin, we feel strangely comfortable with it. The dangers in the story do not feel as if they are caused by the environment, but rather at a psychological level. And all three tellings of the story capture this sense, in different ways. Essentially, however you go about this story, in whichever order, it is an enjoyable and thought-provoking experience.
1 This is not to say this type of story always fails. War of the Worlds is a classic novel, and Aliens is one of my favorite movies.↩
2 Substitute dragons and orcs for aliens, and the same holds true for fantasy. Simply having epic wars of mythical beings is not the key to quality fantasy. Finding good fantasy is often difficult, as well.↩
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Doing Things for Free: Part 1
I don’t read as much as I should. Between fifty and a hundred books a year is a good number for me. I truly enjoy reading, but it is one of many ways I choose to spend my free time. And it’s tough to find a balance in free time! As my list of books I want to read grows bigger and bigger, the amount of new and interesting books certainly does not go down. For every book I finish, I’m sure I add three more. This brief is not about making a dent in that list.
As more and more books are released every year, it is easy for classics to become buried in the past. Furthermore, if young people read less, they become painfully lacking in knowledge on classic literature or philosophy that forms that background of much of today’s media. Missing out on literature that is “too old” means missing out on allusions that are worth knowing and stories that are worth hearing. One way to combat this: exploring free archives of such writings.
In today’s Internet culture, there is certainly no shortage of free access to information. Although the means for receiving the information are sometimes questionably legal, many of these no-cost resources can be found through legal means as well. A quick search on Amazon’s Kindle store reveals hundreds of classics--from Ulysses to Les Misérables--for absolutely free. But this is not limited to just old titles; hundreds of recent releases, both fiction and nonfiction, are also available for immediate download. These are available to anyone with the Amazon app, not even requiring the Kindle itself.
Another legal example, Project Gutenberg (presumably named after the inventor of the printing press) is one of the oldest and largest digital collections on the Internet, amassing over 48,000 titles. With this many options, a dedicated reader could spend their entire lives getting caught up. Again, as these books are totally free, it makes the option to pay $13.99 for the same book in a Barnes & Noble seem absurd.
There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but there is certainly free literature. These are just two of the options one has to pick some up; there are many other possibilities as well. If it seems too easy to find, it’s because it really is that easy. Once, I wanted to read this old journal article on a subject I was into at the time. A Google search found a PDF for me in less than a minute. I’ve said it before: I love the Internet.
To me, though, nothing replaces the feeling of holding a book. I could never advocate using a device over a paperback. But the truth is: enough people are carrying around a phone or using a computer that these titles could be quite useful. It’s remarkable how much of the world of literature can be found instantly in the comfort of your own home. These no-cost options certainly offset the cost of a device and might justify the purchase.
At its best, the Internet can be put to use as an incredible archive. As a repository for information, there is almost no limit to the amount of content that can be found. And public domain means, literally, owned and shared by the public. So, if you haven’t yet gotten around to the complete works of William Shakespeare, you technically already own them, and they’re already stored for you online.
This is fascinating because it largely takes away the excuse to not be educated in classical humanities. For no monetary cost and no more effort than the click of a button, one can easily find something rewarding to read and enjoy. A person has a right to read whatever he or she wants, and the options are easily presented and seemingly endless. I know it puts my To Read list in a pretty bad shape.
As more and more books are released every year, it is easy for classics to become buried in the past. Furthermore, if young people read less, they become painfully lacking in knowledge on classic literature or philosophy that forms that background of much of today’s media. Missing out on literature that is “too old” means missing out on allusions that are worth knowing and stories that are worth hearing. One way to combat this: exploring free archives of such writings.
In today’s Internet culture, there is certainly no shortage of free access to information. Although the means for receiving the information are sometimes questionably legal, many of these no-cost resources can be found through legal means as well. A quick search on Amazon’s Kindle store reveals hundreds of classics--from Ulysses to Les Misérables--for absolutely free. But this is not limited to just old titles; hundreds of recent releases, both fiction and nonfiction, are also available for immediate download. These are available to anyone with the Amazon app, not even requiring the Kindle itself.
Another legal example, Project Gutenberg (presumably named after the inventor of the printing press) is one of the oldest and largest digital collections on the Internet, amassing over 48,000 titles. With this many options, a dedicated reader could spend their entire lives getting caught up. Again, as these books are totally free, it makes the option to pay $13.99 for the same book in a Barnes & Noble seem absurd.
There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but there is certainly free literature. These are just two of the options one has to pick some up; there are many other possibilities as well. If it seems too easy to find, it’s because it really is that easy. Once, I wanted to read this old journal article on a subject I was into at the time. A Google search found a PDF for me in less than a minute. I’ve said it before: I love the Internet.
To me, though, nothing replaces the feeling of holding a book. I could never advocate using a device over a paperback. But the truth is: enough people are carrying around a phone or using a computer that these titles could be quite useful. It’s remarkable how much of the world of literature can be found instantly in the comfort of your own home. These no-cost options certainly offset the cost of a device and might justify the purchase.
At its best, the Internet can be put to use as an incredible archive. As a repository for information, there is almost no limit to the amount of content that can be found. And public domain means, literally, owned and shared by the public. So, if you haven’t yet gotten around to the complete works of William Shakespeare, you technically already own them, and they’re already stored for you online.
This is fascinating because it largely takes away the excuse to not be educated in classical humanities. For no monetary cost and no more effort than the click of a button, one can easily find something rewarding to read and enjoy. A person has a right to read whatever he or she wants, and the options are easily presented and seemingly endless. I know it puts my To Read list in a pretty bad shape.
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