I was excited to learn recently that Google ebooks has now made buying through local bookstores much, much easier. For reasons previously discussed on this blog, I am no fan of Amazon. I was sad to learn last year that my favourite source for ebooks, The Book Depository, had been purchased by Amazon.
Never fear! Google ebooks has teamed up with independent bookstores to give you both range AND the ability to support your friendly neighbourhood indy bookstore. I found out about this through Laura Miller, who wrote about it here. The ebooks are sourced from Google ebooks, but you buy through your favourite bookstore's website and they get a cut.
The idea is still catching on in Australia, but at present you can already support Australian businesses by buying your Google ebooks through Booktopia or Dymocks.
Don't forget, if you're looking for places to get ebooks in general, Project Gutenberg is your best source for free ebooks of out-of-print books, and Inkmesh can help you find tricky-to-find ebooks.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Stunning stationery, and the lost art of letter writing
I've always wanted to be a 'woman of letters', someone who can write long newsy letters about day-to-day nothings and the weather. I've been reading about C.S. Lewis recently (there is a forthcoming blog in that, I promise), and Lewis was a great letter-writer who could get away with writing about things like snow:
"We had about a week of snow with frost on top of it and then the rime coming out of the air and making thick woolly formations on every branch. The little wood was indescribably beautiful. I used to go and crunch about on the crusted snow in it every evening--for the snow kept it light long after sunset. It was a labyrinth of white--the smallest twigs looking thick as seaweed and building up a kind of cathedral vault overhead."
I can't help thinking the pace of life is a bit too fast for me to bother writing lengthy descriptions of weather (besides, Australia's sticky summers don't inspire the same poetic style), but I have enlisted Florentine Australia to help me get inspired to write letters to distant friends. They're based in Sydney, but they also have an online store with reliable delivery.
Last year I bought a dip pen, along with a wax seal with my initials on it, and was delighted by the quality of both the products and the customer service. Florentine's commitment to customer satisfaction became apparent when I received an email saying that unfortunately one of the products I had requested was currently out of stock. I had two choices: I could wait a week for the product to arrive (they would send the rest immediately, of course), or I could have another, more expensive product in its place.
Here's the pen of which I am now the proud owner:
To complement my set, I received a blotter for my birthday. Now all I need is an inkwell!
It certainly has been a pleasure using beautiful notepaper, dipping my pen into ink and listening to the the slight scratch as my pen moves across the surface of the paper. Letter-writing has become a tactile experience I really enjoy. Now, to find something to write about which isn't already known to my friends via facebook.
"We had about a week of snow with frost on top of it and then the rime coming out of the air and making thick woolly formations on every branch. The little wood was indescribably beautiful. I used to go and crunch about on the crusted snow in it every evening--for the snow kept it light long after sunset. It was a labyrinth of white--the smallest twigs looking thick as seaweed and building up a kind of cathedral vault overhead."
I can't help thinking the pace of life is a bit too fast for me to bother writing lengthy descriptions of weather (besides, Australia's sticky summers don't inspire the same poetic style), but I have enlisted Florentine Australia to help me get inspired to write letters to distant friends. They're based in Sydney, but they also have an online store with reliable delivery.
Last year I bought a dip pen, along with a wax seal with my initials on it, and was delighted by the quality of both the products and the customer service. Florentine's commitment to customer satisfaction became apparent when I received an email saying that unfortunately one of the products I had requested was currently out of stock. I had two choices: I could wait a week for the product to arrive (they would send the rest immediately, of course), or I could have another, more expensive product in its place.
Here's the pen of which I am now the proud owner:
To complement my set, I received a blotter for my birthday. Now all I need is an inkwell!
It certainly has been a pleasure using beautiful notepaper, dipping my pen into ink and listening to the the slight scratch as my pen moves across the surface of the paper. Letter-writing has become a tactile experience I really enjoy. Now, to find something to write about which isn't already known to my friends via facebook.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Watchmen and philosophy
Last night I finally got around to watching Watchmen, the 2009 film of Alan Moore's comic book. I had been looking forward to it because a few of my philosophical friends had told me that Watchmen is full of interesting philosophical perspectives.
While it's true that you could use the film as a springboard for philosophical discussions (e.g.; which character is more moral: the profoundly detached Dr. Manhattan or the psychopathically utilitarian Ozymandias?), I found myself disappointed on the philosophical front. At first I wasn't sure why, because the film does clearly present a range of philosophically interesting ideas. Today, I finally put my finger on the problem.
Philosophy isn't just ideas. Philosophy is about what we care about.
I loved the way Watchmen was shot, the central idea that people who go in for masked crime-fighting probably aren't in it for pure reasons (liberty, justice and the American dream), the action sequences (I could actually tell what was happening!) and the fabulous opening sequence with the iconic blood-spattered smiley face. What I didn't love was a single one of the characters, the world it was set in or the complexities of the story.
I found myself emotionally detached from the film the entire way through. I didn't care what happened, because the characters were uninteresting and the fictional world unbearably bleak and devoid of hope. I don't know how much of this is due to the original graphic novel, as I haven't yet read it, though I do know the film adaption of Moore's V for Vendetta doesn't commit the same sins. I don't think this is just a matter of my temperament or my particular relationship to the text. Watchmen felt as if the filmmakers were so engrossed in visual mastery and ideas that they forgot to throw in anything to make the viewer care. The world is ugly, the characters lack character. I didn't even catch most of their names, superhero or ordinary. I recall the Comedian, who dies in the first few minutes of the film, and the Silk Spectre, who retires in the opening credits. The main character (who, I discovered through Google, is actually the second Silk Spectre) was unmemorable enough that she remains in my mind 'the chick who played Tess in 27 Dresses'.
In response to this, my literature-loving self screams in protest. This is not the ideal relationship between fiction and philosophy! Fiction can, and often does, make philosophical ideas apparent, but it contributes nothing to philosophy if it doesn't first and foremost make us care. All fiction is philosophy, and films that are overt about it (like Watchmen) often do a terrible job at communicating it. (I blogged here about the relationship between fantasy fiction and philosophy, a relationship which at its best is a match made in Heaven.)
Fiction is the place where philosophy plays the heartstrings.
Philosophy is Gandalf plummeting into blackness because some things are more important than the life of a grand wizard (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring). Philosophy is Satine and Christian struggling with the conflicts between prostitution and would-be monogamous love (Moulin Rouge). Philosophy is Guido's unshakeable conviction that life is beautiful despite the horrors of WWII (Life is Beautiful). Philosophy is the clash between giving to the poor and obeying the law (any version of Robin Hood). Philosophy is the realisation that love actually is all around (Love Actually). Philosophy is the feminism in freely choosing marriage and a domestic life (Mona Lisa Smile).
Philosophy is intrinsically bound up in what we care about, or it is nothing.
While it's true that you could use the film as a springboard for philosophical discussions (e.g.; which character is more moral: the profoundly detached Dr. Manhattan or the psychopathically utilitarian Ozymandias?), I found myself disappointed on the philosophical front. At first I wasn't sure why, because the film does clearly present a range of philosophically interesting ideas. Today, I finally put my finger on the problem.
Philosophy isn't just ideas. Philosophy is about what we care about.
I loved the way Watchmen was shot, the central idea that people who go in for masked crime-fighting probably aren't in it for pure reasons (liberty, justice and the American dream), the action sequences (I could actually tell what was happening!) and the fabulous opening sequence with the iconic blood-spattered smiley face. What I didn't love was a single one of the characters, the world it was set in or the complexities of the story.
I found myself emotionally detached from the film the entire way through. I didn't care what happened, because the characters were uninteresting and the fictional world unbearably bleak and devoid of hope. I don't know how much of this is due to the original graphic novel, as I haven't yet read it, though I do know the film adaption of Moore's V for Vendetta doesn't commit the same sins. I don't think this is just a matter of my temperament or my particular relationship to the text. Watchmen felt as if the filmmakers were so engrossed in visual mastery and ideas that they forgot to throw in anything to make the viewer care. The world is ugly, the characters lack character. I didn't even catch most of their names, superhero or ordinary. I recall the Comedian, who dies in the first few minutes of the film, and the Silk Spectre, who retires in the opening credits. The main character (who, I discovered through Google, is actually the second Silk Spectre) was unmemorable enough that she remains in my mind 'the chick who played Tess in 27 Dresses'.
In response to this, my literature-loving self screams in protest. This is not the ideal relationship between fiction and philosophy! Fiction can, and often does, make philosophical ideas apparent, but it contributes nothing to philosophy if it doesn't first and foremost make us care. All fiction is philosophy, and films that are overt about it (like Watchmen) often do a terrible job at communicating it. (I blogged here about the relationship between fantasy fiction and philosophy, a relationship which at its best is a match made in Heaven.)
Fiction is the place where philosophy plays the heartstrings.
Philosophy is Gandalf plummeting into blackness because some things are more important than the life of a grand wizard (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring). Philosophy is Satine and Christian struggling with the conflicts between prostitution and would-be monogamous love (Moulin Rouge). Philosophy is Guido's unshakeable conviction that life is beautiful despite the horrors of WWII (Life is Beautiful). Philosophy is the clash between giving to the poor and obeying the law (any version of Robin Hood). Philosophy is the realisation that love actually is all around (Love Actually). Philosophy is the feminism in freely choosing marriage and a domestic life (Mona Lisa Smile).
Philosophy is intrinsically bound up in what we care about, or it is nothing.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Sense of an Ending
My intention to blog once a month was left unfulfilled in December. But then, so are most intentions for December. I have much to blog about (including Google ebooks) but for now, a quick post about a recent Laura Miller article at Salon which can be found here. Miller notes that endings aren't as widely discussed and remembered as beginnings, and invites readers to post their favourite novel endings.
I had to smile when one reader mentioned the last line of C.S. Lewis's Prince Caspian: " 'Bother!' said Edmund. 'I've left my new torch in Narnia.' "
The ending that immediately jumped to mind for me was the deliciously creepy final paragraph of Charlotte Perkins Gilman's 'The Yellow Wallpaper': "Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!" (Of course, not so deliciously creepy if you haven't read the story.)
I also love the ending of Neil Gaiman's Stardust, with it's haunting final line: "She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars." But again, the impact of this line is non-existent if you haven't been on the journey, if you are not acquainted with the 'she' in question.
Of course, I adore both endings of The Princess Bride (the Morgenstern ending and the Goldman ending): "I'm not trying to make this a downer, understand. I mean, I really do think that love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops. But I also have to say, for the umpty-umpth time, that life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all."
I had to smile when one reader mentioned the last line of C.S. Lewis's Prince Caspian: " 'Bother!' said Edmund. 'I've left my new torch in Narnia.' "
The ending that immediately jumped to mind for me was the deliciously creepy final paragraph of Charlotte Perkins Gilman's 'The Yellow Wallpaper': "Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!" (Of course, not so deliciously creepy if you haven't read the story.)
I also love the ending of Neil Gaiman's Stardust, with it's haunting final line: "She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars." But again, the impact of this line is non-existent if you haven't been on the journey, if you are not acquainted with the 'she' in question.
Of course, I adore both endings of The Princess Bride (the Morgenstern ending and the Goldman ending): "I'm not trying to make this a downer, understand. I mean, I really do think that love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops. But I also have to say, for the umpty-umpth time, that life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all."
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