Reading Program

I'm doing something unusual today, and taking a book off my Goodread's to-read shelf. Almost invariably, I add books and leave them there till I finally get around to reading them. Removing them is so exceptional I feel the need to write a blog post justifying myself!

The specific story is pretty simple here: when I put John Anderson's Hypersonic and High-Temperature Gas Dynamics on my reading list last summer, I was more interested in bookmarking it for future reading rather than giving it a particular priority in my independent study plan. However, since then, I've started giving much more weight to reading the books that are already on my to-read list (and don't want to overpopulate it with the hundreds of titles which have, at least briefly, caught my attention over the years).

Hypersonic aerodynamics is an advanced topic, and Anderson recommends Fundamentals of Aerodynamics and Modern Compressible Flow as pre-requisite texts. At this point, I'm not going to forget about his hypersonics book, so when and if I get to the point where it's appropriate to study high-speed flow, I'll know where to look. In the meantime, however, I'm better served prioritizing more foundational engineering texts and the other types of books on my list (history of science, philosophy, fiction).

I'll probably use the newly-vacated slot for Spacecraft Mission Design by Charles D. Brown, which strikes me as a more appropriately challenging textbook at this point in my reading program.

The Books I Read in 2016

More Than Human by Theodore Sturgeon

This book is the sole reason I have the Kindle app on my phone. It was interesting but not terribly exciting in hindsight. I think I would need a better perspective on 1950s telepathy fiction to appreciate whether it's high or low quality. Nevertheless a fun story to watch unfold.

Neuromancer by William Gibson

Unambiguously great, despite what a lot of my classmates said. Neuromancer has aged better than a lot of scifi from that era, though occasionally mundane technologies reminded me of the normalcy field. Overall the story was immersive, well-planned, and engaging. I'm hoping to read the other Sprawl books soon.

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein

My first time rereading in several years, this time to focus on non-political themes. Primarily I was focusing on the AI aspect for an assignment. I still found it quite enjoyable to read, to the point that I really felt like writing for the first time in years. Another reminder that books have more layers than what I picked up in high school.

2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke

I finally picked this up because I wanted to go above-and-beyond with that paper on AI in literature. I may have been a bit resentful with how little serious analysis my professor gave. Clarke's writing is extremely poetic throughout, but the eventual plot wasn't that earth-shattering given that I've seen the movie. There's a lot more detail and cosmetic changes, no major differences in theme. Nevertheless and enjoyable read and convinced me to look at Clarke further.

The Foundations of Morality by Henry Hazlitt

All the books avove, and the three below, in some capacity, were read for my English class this spring. Nominally, I was reading Hazlitt's ethics text during this time. In practice, not so much. Despite owning a physical copy, most of it I read on my phone, a significant chunk during a car ride on Stop Day. Strongly recommended for libertarians, to get a better grasp on utilitarianism. Review here.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

So much of this book left my head since high school English. Another case where a story doesn't seem that great, but considering when it was written, the book is actually quite impressive. It's cliche but the book was better than the movie (pretty much any version).

The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells

Had some good moments but just not that engaging for me. Maybe if my professor hadn't given away the mystery early on, it would have been more exciting. Worth skimming for historical perspective but not something I expect to reread soon.

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

Holy hell has this book not aged well. Post-internet but pre-Web 2.0 results in a very weird mix of idioms. As for the actual plot, meh. There was potential but overall felt badly executed. The antagonist would be relatable if his motives made any sense; the protagonist makes a lot of strange decisions and isn't nearly as engaging. Jumping back and forth in time made for interesting story-telling but couldn't make up for an underwhleming story.

Hive Mind by Garett Jones

Non-fiction about IQ research, specifically applications to social problems. As pointed out in my review, the Jones is asking questions, not giving answers. Definitely worth thinking about.

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

Another reread. Rand definitely does claim to have the answers. I have a few reservations, but her story, style, and themes are still uplifting after all these years. Review of Atlas Shrugged, and the following books, forthcoming.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

Frame story on about seven different levels. Definitely a book for people who like puzzles and mysteries. And you definitely need a physical copy. I don't really want to spoil it for future readers by talking about the story here, but to say the least I found it interesting.

Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond

Didn't expect to like Jared Diamond, but after multiple commentators recommended it I finally caved and picked up a copy. It was well worth the money--Diamond has effectively written a book about the whole of human history and gives a pretty credible explanation for why geographic factors had a strong influence on how the world looks today.

First Impressions

I've finished the prologue of Guns, Germs, and Steel, and want to write down a few brief thoughts.

Firstly, Diamond makes a considerable effort to assure his readers that he's not a eurocentrist. I can understand why he feels the need to do this, but from my perspective it just made him come across as a smug progressive.

It's perhaps worth noting that my general affect for Professor Diamond has been mostly negative, due to his reputation as, shall we say, a skeptic of civilization. For someone like me, with allergies, asthma, nearsightedness and an ideological affinity for modern world, that sort of mindset rubs me the wrong way.

I'm reading this book, not out of a genuine desire to fairly evaluate the works of people I disagree with, but because it was recommended. Not to me personally, but in general, by educational YouTuber C.G.P. Grey. In a pair of videos, Grey presented Diamond's hypothesis from the book, which sufficiently piqued my interest for me to suspend my suspicions and pick up a copy from the local used book store.

Getting back to the book itself--I think the prologue dismisses several alternative hypotheses out of hand. Now I'm not a professional geographer, so maybe there's a strong body of evidence that those hypotheses are indeed wrong, and Diamond's explanations are intended for convincing a lay audience, rather than a contrarian such as myself. Since in all likelihood the truth is an amalgamation of these possible causes, I'm willing to overlook these seemingly weak arguments.

Certainly I haven't been dissuaded from reading onward. The first chapter is clearly written and informative. My advice would be rather for a certain sort of reader to skip most of the prologue and its disclaimers, heading directly for the meat of the book.

Problem with Classics

Many literary pieces become "classics" in part because they were better than whatever else was in print at the time. This was a perfectly honest and reasonable criteria, but after decades of continuous use it has broken down quite terribly. By now, so many books are in print, and so many "classics" now declared, that we can't escape the fact that some "classics" are better than others, and moreover, that some are more enjoyable to read.

People like me, who were raised in a world overflowing with "classics", where the entire English curriculum was devoted to "classics", have no basis for comparison. They aren't "classics" to me so much as they are books, and respecting them simply because they're old is quite difficult when so many are so painful to read. I can't see these books in relation to their time, nor do I usually view them against modern literature, in part because I don't read all that much of it.

Furthermore, themes which may have been profound when a book was first published are by now part of the general cultural background, and so the notion that they're worth spending time on is a bit of a challenge. This is especially true of ideas which I reject but everyone accepts.

Here's Scott Alexander on a similar topic:

In a recent essay, Against Bravery Debates, I think I underestimated an important reason why some debates have to be bravery debates.

Suppose there are two sides to an issue. Be more or less selfish. Post more or less offensive atheist memes. Be more or less willing to blame and criticize yourself. 

There are some people who need to hear both sides of the issue. Some people really need to hear the advice “It’s okay to be selfish sometimes!” Other people really need to hear the advice “You are being way too selfish and it’s not okay.” 

It’s really hard to target advice at exactly the people who need it. You can’t go around giving everyone surveys to see how selfish they are, and give half of them Atlas Shrugged and half of them the collected works of Peter Singer. You can’t even write really complicated books on how to tell whether you need more or less selfishness in your life – they’re not going to be as buyable, as readable, or as memorable as Atlas Shrugged. To a first approximation, all you can do is saturate society with pro-selfishness or anti-selfishness messages, and realize you’ll be hurting a select few people while helping the majority.

For the most part, I find a lot of the themes in older literature to be obvious and universal to the point that criticizing them seems like a duty. But perhaps that wasn't the case at the time. Maybe when these books were written such messages were actually useful. But how would I know, without actually taking a representative survey of what was being written at the time. Not the best works--the works that were so dull or bad that they were forgotten with a year.

Alternatively, it would be helpful to show how schools of literary thought react to one another. A certain mode of thought is in vogue, and then people get fed up with it and try something else, until people get fed up with that and try yet another thing. Sometimes this can be collapsed onto a simple one-dimensional axis, but usually the space is much larger than that.

In my English education there was a touch of this, but for the most part we glossed over the differences and relationships between different schools. I can't really blame my teachers for this--they were working within quite limited restraints--but the broader book culture would be well-advised to take this into account when demanding genuflection to the "classics".

Comment on Hazlitt

I've been working my way through Henry Hazlitt's The Foundations of Morality, and this section caught my eye:

The real distinction we need to make for ethical clarity is not that between the individual and society, or even between "egoism" and "altruism," but between interests in the short run and those in the long run. This distinction is made constantly in modern economics. It is in large part the basis for the condemnation by economists of such policies as tariffs, subsidies, price-fixing, rent control, crop supports, featherbedding, deficit-financing, and inflation. Those who say mockingly that "in the long run we are all dead" are just as irresponsible as the French aristocrats whose reputed motto was Après nous le déluge. 

I hadn't even reached the latter half of the paragraph before the obvious objection occurred to me. Despite Hazlitt's claim that in the long run our interests align, the fact is that may take longer than our lifetimes to occur.

We don't exist in some sort of spherical cow universe where everyone lives forever. People die. They get old and start to fall apart. Practically speaking, if our interests don't align within the span of a few decades, then acknowledging this doesn't accomplish anything. The allowable period during which our interests must align only shrinks as we get older.

Perhaps this matters less when everyone is having children (assuming the interest of a parent and child align perfectly, which they don't). Long-term problem solving gets a higher priority when you're focused on "leaving a better future for our children" or some such drivel. But we aren't living in such a culture, so that defense is weak at best.

Dismissing those concerned about long-term coordination failures is not a terribly good sign this early in the book. So far it's been thought-provoking, but I'll have to keep reading and see if that persists.

Update 12 Nov 15: Upon finishing the chapter, Hazlitt does briefly address this issue:

In applying the Long-Run Principle, in other words, we must apply it with a certain amount of common sense. We must confine ourselves to consideration of the relevant long run, the finite and reasonably cognizable long run. This is the grain of truth in Keynes's cynical dictum that "In the long run we are all dead." That long run we may no doubt justifiably ignore. We cannot see into eternity.

Such a short paragraph doesn't do the issue justice, but we're not done with the long run:

We shall reserve until later chapters the detailed illustration and application of the Long-Run Principle. Here we are still concerned with the epistemological or theoretical foundations of ethics rather than with casuistry or detailed practical guidance. But it is now possible to take the next step from the theoretical to the practical. It is one of the most important implications of the Long-Run Principle (and one that Bentham, strangely, failed explicitly to recognize) that we must act, not by attempting separately in every case to weigh and compare the probable specific consequences of one moral decision or course of action as against another, but by acting according to some established general rule or set of rules. This is what is meant by acting according to principle. It is not the consequences (which it is impossible to know in advance) of a specific act that we have to consider, but the probable long-run consequences of following a given rule of action.

Stay tuned.

Available in hardcopy or free pdf through the Mises Institute.