by James Clive-Matthews | 28 Jun, 2018 | Structures & Models
3/5 stars
Inventive, but as if by numbers: multiple perspectives over several centuries, in multiple formats – diaries, letters, court transcripts, book extracts, stream of consciousness, snippets of pub conversation, photo captions, film scripts – with only the smallest nods to past sections throughout, meaning an excellent memory is vital to spot the narrative connections.
But the point here isn’t narrative (because there isn’t much of a one, beyond the vague narratives of each section, most of which end in disappointment for the subject) – it’s the nature of history and memory, how different people and eras have different priorities, how there’s always a clash between the desire to maintain tradition and progress (even if that tradition is barely understood, and the benefits of that progress aren’t clear).
This makes it, in many ways, both a deeply melancholy and a deeply pessimistic book. And also means it perfectly captures elements of the attitudes of rural southern England in the late 20th century – and probably still today. In some ways it feels quite Brexity, in fact – or, at least, that it helps explain Brexity attitudes.
by James Clive-Matthews | 3 Jun, 2018 | Narratives & Meanings
5/5 stars
A superb piecing together of disparate unreliable information from multiple countries and centuries in an effort to piece together just what medieval Europe knew of the wider world, prior to its rapid expansion after Columbus, Magellan, and Da Gama.
The legends of Prester John, the travels of Marco Polo and John Mandeville, the rediscovery of classical learning, the threat of the Mongols, the desire to reconquer Jerusalem with a new crusade, the closing of the Silk Road by Central Asian wars, the rumours of Atlantic islands, the pursuit of Paradise in Ceylon, the source of African gold, and the various pre-Columbian discoverers of the Americas – all are here, making the medieval world seem much bigger in the process.
Excellent fun stuff that makes Columbus’ voyage both make more sense and less – he had enough evidence there was something over the horizon, but much of that evidence suggested it was much further away, and he still had no real idea how to get there.
by James Clive-Matthews | 20 May, 2018 | Systems & Technology
4/5 stars
Impressively prescient, considering it was published five years ago but is about technology – something that’s been moving madly fast during that timeframe. The Facebook / Cambridge Analytica scandal effectively predicted, many of the debates still going on in business and government today about things like the gig economy, autonomous vehicles and more were anticipated and summarised before they’d really started happening. The impression is that Lanier had seen all this coming decades ago – and he probably did.
As such, lots here to spark thought, lots to be impressed with, and it’s hard to disagree with the central thesis that the informational economics of the internet age are fundamentally broken. But at the same time, the only alternative to the current way of doing things – micropayments for data exhange/generation – still seems insanely impractical, even employing a technology like blockchain (something similar to which Lanier kinda proposes here).
So while Lanier ends on an optimistic note, the book left me more pessimistic than ever about our tech-driven future.
by James Clive-Matthews | 17 Feb, 2018 | Marginalia
4/5 stars
Borderline five star for me, this. Ticks a huge number of the boxes for books I love: Lyrically-written magic realism, unreliably narrated from multiple perspectives, set in the 16th century (flicking between Medici Florence and the court of Akbar the Great), weaving together elements of real history, fiction, fable, philosophy, and inventive ideas.
My issue with it is hard to pinpoint, but throughout I had a niggling dislike of a book whose writing and concept I loved. I think it’s probably to do with how every single female character is an archetype: the whore, the jealous wife, the bitter mother-in-law, the spurned lover, the unattainable object of desire, the witch, the imaginary ideal.
This is, of course, thematically kind of appropriate for the story – which revolves around the romanticised fiction of a mythical woman’s life – but it still grated. The inner workings of the mind of the Mughal emperor are so interestingly explored, yet none of the women in this novel seem to have any layers of complexity to them at all.
Is that just because the women are presented through the eyes of the men in the novel, or because Rushdie lacks the ability to create a convincing female character? It’s the first book of his I’ve read (have been meaning to get around to him for ages), so hard to judge. But I’ll still certainly try more of his stuff after this.
by James Clive-Matthews | 27 Jan, 2018 | Narratives & Meanings
5/5 stars
A surprisingly deep book for one written in such a simple, innocent style – and once that slowly presses the emotional buttons in a way you don’t quite notice until it’s too late and you’re fully sucked in. Want to go and give the wife a massive hug right now, basically…
Initially couldn’t see what the fuss was about, but it builds and grows, layer after layer, subtly adding depth and clarity to the allegorical elements and emotional attachment to the characters. The conclusion, though long expected, is done with a skill that has genuinely left me feeling a little shell-shocked – that kind of sadness that comes with a calm acceptance. Fits the book perfectly.
It’s about relationships, memory, trust, forgiveness, anger, revenge, and history. How the past is forgotten, manipulated, subjective, vital – but also how human relationships are the thing that both bind and divide us, and can, with the right attitude, overcome any past.
It gives both cause for hope and for despair. It’s both pessimistic and optimistic. And, ultimately, despite being a fantasy, it’s profoundly realist and meaningful. Worth a read.
by James Clive-Matthews | 17 Jan, 2018 | Marginalia
4/5 stars
One of the few strategy books recommended by Lawrence Freedman in his chunky Strategy: A History, largely for its gleeful destruction of the fatuous nonsense that passes for most business strategy.
There’s a lot of good stuff in here. Useful ideas. Good tips for clarifying thinking and approaching problems in a more strategic way.
But, as with so many business books, it’s very heavy on anecdote and case study, few of which are well told, and all of which could do with succinct, clearly formsttd summaries of the point so you can skip the details if needed. Only one section tries to do this, and it doesn’t do it well.
Nonetheless, where the thinking is clear and clearly presented, it’s got some excellent short sumaries of ways to think and act that can be invaluable to anyone in a leadership position. If you are, it’s definitely worth a read.
by James Clive-Matthews | 14 Nov, 2017 | Marginalia
5/5 stars
An impressive no bullshit overview of strategic thinking (and claims about the merits of such thinking) over the last two centuries. My copy is now littered with copious notes, and I’m sure I’ll be returning to it repeatedly as a reference book from now on. Particularly enjoyed the excellent destruction of pretty much all businesses guru claims about management strategy.
Well worth investing the time to read this for anyone interested in politics or business – though there are big chunks it’s perfectly possible to skip, depending on your primary interest (the lengthy detour into left-wing and radical political theory added little for me, largely because I was already familiar with it).
by James Clive-Matthews | 23 Oct, 2017 | Structures & Models
5/5 stars
Had read most of these in isolation before, never cover to cover as a coherent collection. They work better as a collection – themes emerging, parallels, repetitions.
No real standout story for me, bar possibly The House of Asterion and The Writing of the God, though many standout ideas. The core concepts of The Zahir (an object or thing that drives obsession it’s impossible to shake) and The Aleph (a point in time and space from which it’s possible to see all other points in time and space simultaneously) both could have been expanded into much more.
And that’s the thing with Borges – he always leaves you wanting more. May well try this same trick of reading his collections as collections with the rest now…
by James Clive-Matthews | 22 Oct, 2017 | Narratives & Meanings
5/5 stars
An immense amount of research packed into a well-written, fascinating book. Has given me untold new appreciation for the late Georgian scientists and explorers – from a period before the word scientist had even been invented, and where art and science were still far more closely intertwined. This isn’t just Banks, Herschel and Davy – Coleridge also plays a significant role, as do Shelley, Woolstonecraft, Wordsworth.
Is it a bit Anglocentric? Possibly – I don’t know enough about the period to tell. But it does amply show how much scientific dialogue there was between England and France in particular, even during the Napoleonic Wars – a kind of friendly rivalry in which England seemed to have come out on top.
Is it a bit London-centric too? Possibly, though the Davy chapters do feature the Westcounty, and there are references to the later proliferation of provincial scientific associations. And in any case, this is about the initial scientific breakthroughs, not their applications asthe Industrial Revolution spread.
I took my time reading this, as it was an ideal tube journey book – each chapter split into shorter sub-chapters, and all enjoyably worth savouring. Tiny print in the paperback also means this packs in far more words than many books of the same pagecount. Could it have been a far faster read? Yes – but I’m glad I took my time, and that I finally got around to it after years of it lying on the shelf unread.
by James Clive-Matthews | 5 Oct, 2017 | Marginalia
4/5 stars
A solid, readable polemic (with occasional excellent passages and a few clunky ones) that neatly demonstrates the complex challenges of Britain’s odd understanding of and responses to racism.
In all, the book made a fair few things clearer, while provoking several moments of “hmmm… That’s a bit strong / doesn’t really help the argument” – but as I’m a white man, most of my objections had either already been anticipated or dismissed as me not getting the point. (A useful rhetorical device for shutting down objections, that – but here, in places, it is probably a valid one.)
Most interesting were probably the chapters on race and feminism / race and class – this is where the core argument about the need to fight all forms of injustice and inequality (to really get rid of the structures that ensure racism/sexism/etc persists) begins to kick in. That’s a good argument, and needs to be made more often. (*waves at the Labour party*)
Only fear now is that even by writing this review (let alone reading the book on the tube earlier) I could be guilty of “performative anti-racism”. I kinda knew that was a thing, and know I’m occasionally guilty of it, but now can’t tell what counts – or whether the “performance” is a negative to be avoided, or just something that doesn’t make sufficient difference in the overall battle. (I’d argue it’s all good marketing…)
