Tomes 2010: Geology on the Road

I didn't mean for this installment to be travel-themed.  It's just how we ended up.  There are two odd men out, so I suppose there'll be variety for the sake thereof and all that.  Besides, the travel theme goes well with Silver Fox's meme.  So why the hell not?

And so, without further ado, our final Tomes 2010!

Geology of the North York Moors

You may notice this isn't accompanied by a book cover image.  Best I can do for a link for ye is to direct you to where I filched the picture, which discusses some o' the geology, at least.  This tiny little book is one of those delightful bookstore finds.  My copy is vintage '79, and must have been picked up by vacationing Americans.  It's a quick, simple guide to one of the most interesting national parks in England.  If you can lay your hands upon a copy, do, but be warned: it will make you want to spend an outrageous amount of money to hop a plane for Great Britain.  At least you'll have clear diagrams and succinct but solid text to help you find the best geology available.

Hiking Guide to Washington's Geology

I picked this up at Mount Rainier, and it's been my constant companion since.  It's had horrible things done to its cover from being in the same bag as a hand sample of sandstone, but it's soldiered through.  There are 56 hikes in here.  You'll want to do them all.

It covers eight regions: the Coast Ranges, the Puget Lowland and San Juan Islands, the North Cascades, the South Cascades, the Columbia Basin, the Okanogan Highlands and Rocky Mountains (yes, Washington has Rockies!), the Blue Mountains, and the Four Corners.  No, Washington does not have a Four Corners region in the sense that four states meet in a corner, but it's roughly rectangular, so that last bit covers all four corners.  The hikes are awesome.  Don't quibble.

The trails are clearly described, so well done that even amateurs like me can figure out what they're looking at.  Nearly everything intelligent I ever say about Washington state geology from now on will be on account of this book.  Just so's you know.

Hiking Oregon's Geology

This book was written by Ellen Morris Bishop.  That should be all I have to say about that.

What, you want me to sell you on this book?

Fine, then.  90 geological hikes.  Covers the Klamath Mountains and the Southernmost Coast, the Coast Range and Central-Northern Oregon Coast, the Willamette Valley, the Columbia River Gorge, the Cascades, the Deschutes Basin, the High Lava Plains, the Basin and Range, the Owyhees, the Blue Mountains and the Columbia Plateau.  Is that enough for you?  It should be.

And did I mention Ellen Morris Bishop?

If you don't know her, go read In Search of Ancient Oregon.  Then you'll know why I say, 'nuff said.

Geology of the North Cascades

This is the perfect blend of information and travel guide.  The first several chapters give an overview of the geology of the region.  This is no simple matter.  The North Cascades are a crazy-quilt of exotic terranes, plutons, oceanic sediments and seafloor, all scrambled and mixed up any-old-how by the vagaries of a subduction zone, then topped off with a bunch of young volcanics.  But after reading the first half of the book, you'll have an excellent idea of which bits are where and why.

Then the second half of the book will take you on a long ramble through them.  There are 154 notes on geologic points of interest.  That means roughly 154 places I want to visit this summer, and I'm not looking forward to trying to whittle them down to a manageable handful!  Plus, there's a recipe for roast chicken.  But it's not just any ol' recipe.  It's one you can make and bake right in the Great Fill.  Yes, you will be burying chicken in old debris flows and baking it right inside the geology.  Is that not teh awesome?  Yes.  Yes, it is.  And no other book I've ever seen on geology has ever offered anything like it.

Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings

You may think that a book on Japanese architecture from 1885 would be dead boring.  In this book's case, you would be wrong.

Soooo very wrong.

Not only is it richly illustrated with a great many beautiful engravings, not only is the prose clear and the descriptions of even the most fiddly bits of architecture and house construction concise and easy to follow, not only does it range from design to construction to decor, it takes many hysterically funny side trips.  Mr. Morse, you see, had a rather jaundiced view of American habits, and he wasn't afraid to spend several pages bashing them.  He had a caustic wit.  He had a keen sense of timing and effect, and understood that sometimes a diatribe requires detail, and sometimes the detail is best left to the readers' imaginations.

Two examples will suffice.  Here, on page 172, he compares Japan's carpenters to America's:

It is a remarkable fact, and one well worth calling attention to, that in the smaller towns and villages, in regions far apart, there seems to be artistic workmen capable of designing and executing these graceful and artistic carvings, - for such they certainly are....  I do not mean to imply by this general statement that good workmen in Japan are not drawn to larger cities for employment, but rather that the smaller towns and villages everywhere are not destitute of such a class, and that the distribution of such artisans is far more wide and general than with us.  And how different such conditions are with us may be seen in the fact that there are hundreds of towns and thousands of villages in our country where the carpenter is just capable of making a shelter from the weather; and if he attempts to beautify it - but we will not awaken the recollection of those startling horrors of petticoat scallops fringing the eaves and every opening, and rendered, if possible, more hideous by the painter.

That, my darlings, puts me in mind of Jerome K. Jerome's remarkable ability to say ten thousand things with just a few choice words.

Here, on page 117, Mr. Morse goes after American interior decorating atrocities:

If a foreigner is not satisfied with the severe simplicity, and what might at first strike him as a meagreness, in the appointments of a Japanese house, and is nevertheless a man of taste, he is compelled to admit that its paucity of furniture and carpets spares one the misery of certain painful feelings that incongruities always produce.  He recalls with satisfaction certain works on household art, in which it is maintained that a table carved with cherubs beneath, against whose absurd contours one knocks his legs, is an abomination; and that carpets which have depicted upon them winged angels, lions, or tigers, - or, worse still, a simpering and reddened maiden being made love to by an equally ruddy shepherd, - are hardly the proper surfaces to tread upon with comfort, though one may take a certain grim delight in wiping his soiled boots upon them.  In the Japanese house the traveller is at least not exasperated with such a medley of dreadful things; he is certainly spared the pains the "civilized" styles of appointing and furnishing often produce.  Mr. Lowell truthfully remarks on "the waste and aimlessness of our American luxury, which is an abject enslavement to tawdry upholstery."

We are digressing, however.

Such digressions season the book throughout, and have turned it from mere tome on foreign architecture into a delightful exploration of different cultural worlds.  There's a good reason why this book is still in print and available 135 years after its birth.  I've spent nearly a year reading this book, dipping in to it a few pages at a time, savoring it for as long as I can, because I'm sure I'll never read another book on architecture this good ever again.

Miyamoto Musashi: His Life and Writings

I've read translations of the Book of Five Rings (Gorin no sho), seen programs on Miyamoto Musashi, and read the works of other martial artists, but this is the first time I've read a translation of Musashi's work and a history of his life by an actual martial artist.  Kenji Tokitsu does a wonderful job rendering Musashi as a human being, which is difficult, considering the man is a bloody legend.

And, for the first time, I've read a translation of the Gorin no sho that actually made sense.  That's no mean feat!  Musashi wasn't writing for novices, he was writing for people he'd already taught.  Most translators render the words without meaning.  Kenjii renders not only the words, but the concepts behind them, in a beautifully clear translation with extensive notes.  And he leads up to that translation by exploring Musashi's life, his development as a martial artist, and the Japan he lived in. 

This book also includes some of Musashi's lesser-known works, which helps complete the picture.  And, speaking of pictures, there are beautiful color plates of Musashi's art work - he wasn't just a martial artist, but a supremely gifted painter and calligrapher.

Musashi's legendary status is well-deserved.  This book honors that, but also shows him as what he was: a human being.  And it's written by a man who knows his stuff: how to translate, how to write, and how to think and act like a martial artist.  It's rare to get hold of a book in English that combines all three.  This is one, and I'm very grateful he wrote it.

And that, my darlings, is that: the final set of Tomes 2010.  64 books, 12 months.  Stay tuned for Tomes 2011, which shall no doubt be as varied and filled with startling, cherished finds.  Happy reading!

Tomes 2010: Harry Potter Mania Edition

Don't ask me why, but for some reason, I decided to re-read Deathly Hallows.  I think it's because my coworkers were babbling about the film.  Then I decided, fuck it, I'll read 'em all.

I've got a story to tell you 'bout that, actually.  Not the most recent trot through the lexicon, but how I came to be a Harry Potter fan at all, and why Quidditch is my favorite sport outside of steeplechasing (the kind with horses, not merely humans).  So, settle in for a bit, even if you're rabidly anti-Potter.

So this one time, back in Flagstaff, when my friend Justin was still my Entertainment Executive, he forced me to read the books.  I believe it was before I saw the movie, but my memory's unclear on this point.  What is crystal clear is that I didn't want to read them.

"Justin," says I, "these look stupid."

They were not, he assured me, stupid.

"Justin," says I, "these are fucking kids books."

They were not, he assured me, merely for children.  British author J.K. Rowling, in fact, thought more of children than most of our American authors tend to.  She even used big words.  Did you know, he said, that the title of Sorcerer's Stone in Britain was actually Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?  Because the British thought kids were smart enough to figure out what the real name of that famous alchemical substance was, but American publishers thought they'd scare the audience away if they so much as mentioned the word philosophy.

"Justin," says I, "even so, I do not fucking want to read these books."

Our arguments about entertainment usually ended in just one way.  And this one ended with me grumbling my way home with two books in hand.

My Doom #1

So, being obligated now, I cracked open the first one, not expecting much of anything.  A few hours later, I set it aside and opened the second one.  I don't remember stopping for dinner.  I don't know if anything at all about the world outside or my own biological needs impinged upon my awareness.  I was too busy fighting Voldemort at Hogwarts to worry about Muggle bullshit like that.

At about three or four in the morning, I finished all Justin had given me.  And I knew a few things.

1.  There were two more books in this series.

My Doom #2

2.  I had stupidly told Justin I'd borrow them later if I decided I'd ever read them.

3.  It was the wee hours of the morning and I had to go to work the next day.

4.  Wal-Mart is open 24 hours.

5.  But there was a blinding snowstorm, with several inches on the ground already, and the plows hadn't been by.

6.  I owned the most obstinate, skiving, broken and temperamental Ford Escort known to man.

7.  It was doubtful the car would run long enough to go to Wal-Mart even in the best of weather, much less when it was peeing down snow.

8.  I was going to die if I didn't get the next two books RIGHT BLOODY NOW.

Tomes 2010: Written in Stone Edition

When this book:

came in the mail after I'd waited literal years for it, I was like, ZOMG,



And now that I've finished it, I'm totally feeling like



Brian, this had better be the start of a long and prolific career, because one's not enough, buddy.

This book constantly surprised me - not because it was good (it's Brian Switek, so obviously it's good!), but because of the number of times it made me say, "I didn't know that!"  It's populated with bajillions of scientists I've read a lot about, people like Charles Darwin and Nicolaus Steno and Richard Owen, some of whom have been so extensively babbled about in the pop sci books that it seemed nothing new and interesting remained to reveal - but Brian almost always managed to find a little something awesome that hasn't made it into the 42,000 other books about them.  And lest you think this is merely a history of paleontology, keep in mind that Brian fleshes out that history with the newest of the new discoveries.  I'm amazed by how much territory he managed to cover without seeming to skimp.  It's not that big a book!

It wasn't just things about people I didn't know, but how and why certain traits evolved.  Brian's filled gaps in my knowledge I didn't even realize I had.  That chapter on horse evolution: definitely worth the wait.  Got me thinking in whole new directions, that did, and that kind of thinking is like solid gold to an SF writer.

He set out to prove that the fossil record, despite some arguments to the contrary, is essential to understanding evolution, and I do believe he succeeded.  It certainly seems like we wouldn't have discovered as much as we did without the evidence those big, extinct critters showed us.  I love the way he lays things out, like a poker player spreading out a particularly fine royal flush.  Booyah, cretinists!

Like Ron Said

Brian's not a particularly combative person - he doesn't jump hip-deep into frays with the zest and verve of people like, oh, say, PZ - but don't let his polite, sensible prose fool you.  He gives no ground.  I love this book not just because it's Brian's and it's wonderful, but because it's unflinching.  Evolution is fact, paleontology's got the evidence, no quarter given.  And when the time comes in the human evolution chapter to talk about Piltdown Man, he dispatches that with such alacrity you don't quite realize he just shot it through the heart.  It's this simple: there was a hoax, some people fell for it, scientists figured it out and exposed the hoax, done.  I love that.  And the whole book is like that: one long demonstration that while science is sometimes messy, it gets the job done in the end.  Scientists aren't perfect, but they don't need to be in order to advance our knowledge.  And again and again, Brian takes down the evolution-as-linear-progress myth.  If you're not left with the idea that evolution's a big brushy, branchy tree rather than one great chain of being leading to inevitable us, then you weren't reading this book.  Either that, or you're ineducable.

There's also quite a few shout-outs to geologists in here, which is much appreciated!

A lot of people need this book: people interested in science; the history of science; paleontology; evolution; people thinking about becoming scientists; anyone who's ever loved dinosaurs, birds, fish, mammoths, mammals, whales, horses or humans; people ignorant of science; those creationist relatives who love to yammer about "gaps in the fossil record"; people who don't know what a fossil record is....  Look, basically, everyone needs this book.

And if you're not convinced by me, the link I pilfered the book cover from has links to plenty of other reviews that just might do it.  There's Chris Rowan and Anne Jefferson's review plus interview.  Written in Stone is inexpensive and the perfect size for most standard Christmas stockings, not to mention an easily-wrapped shape.  And, finally, it's Brian Switek - what more do you need to convince you?

Once you're done enjoying this one, join me in pestering Brian for another installment.  I want his second book in time for Tomes 2012!

Tomes 2010: Mix Edition

It's a mixed bag, baby, yeah!  I haven't had any themes to my reading just lately, so the only thing that holds this group o' books together is that I read them in 2010.  Isn't that enough?

I'm saving the best for last, so stick with me.

Greek Architecture

This book has been my constant bathroom companion for months now.  I learned some new words - metope, prostyle, tholos.  I discovered that a lot of architectural details, from the way buildings were built to design and structural elements, arose from the transition from wood and mud brick to stone.  And I learned that a lot of things that wouldn't make sense if you didn't know how gravity works make perfect sense when you take into account the fact that very heavy things naturally want to fall down.

It was extremely detailed, more of a catalogue than a narrative, but wonderfully informative, with plenty of diagrams and illustrations to help things along.  The best part, though, was the epilogue, which became positively poetic.

All in all, not a bad bathroom read - and my architectural ignorance is slightly less than it was before.  Win!

Trees: Their Natural History

I've loved this book since the first sentence: "Everyone knows what a tree is: a large woody thing that provides shade."  The rest of the book didn't disappoint.  It's a clear, concise, and comprehensive introduction to trees, from how they evolved to how they work in this modern world of climate change and pollution.

Peter Thomas wrote this book because he became frustrated with the fact that there wasn't a single source for all our knowledge about trees.  A lot of myths get dispelled, and most importantly, I learned things I never knew before - like how roots seek easy paths in order to grow, and how far they actually go.  The strategies various trees have - deciduous vs. evergreen, conical vs. sprawling, tall vs. short - begin making sense once you know why natural selection molded them in certain ways.  And there were things I'd never considered before, like how something so tall manages to stay upright for decades, hundreds or even thousands of years against the simplest antagonist of all: the wind.

Once I got done with this book, I felt I'd gotten into the mind of a tree.  And it's hard to see them in the same way ever again.  They may not be conscious in the way we understand, but they are living creatures that respond to their world.  They're magnificent.  And I'm very glad I got to know them better.

Towers of Midnight

This is the book I abandoned all y'all to read.  Took me three nights, it did, and it was worth it. 

It's never easy for an author to take on another author's characters and world and try to do them justice.  And you know how complicated the Wheel of Time is.  Cast of practically thousands, very detailed world, more subplots than a Borgia family reunion, and Robert Jordan's peculiar obsession with clothing.  At times, I could clearly see Brandon struggling, especially when it came to describing clothes (I feel for him.  No man outside a tailor's shop should have to pay that much attention to fabrics, colors and cuts).  There was also that bit where, for several chapters, I thought he'd fucked up continuity big time, only to realize the continuity was fine, but his ability to skip back and forth between different time streams in said continuity had slipped a bit.  I can't say as I blame him.  The thing's almost 900 pages, hideously complex, and he wrote it in a year.

Any number of minor annoyances can be forgiven here.  My hat is fully off to Brandon for tackling this at all, much less doing such a great job, not to mention ensuring Jordan's fans get to see how the story ends.  Which it will, alas, next year.  Brandon, can't you maybe be just a wee past deadline just this once?

I want to see how the story ends.  Then again, I don't.  I love these characters, I love how Brandon's managed to grow them further, and I don't want to see it come to an end.  Then again, I do.  Argh!

Sign of a good book, that.  And this was a very good book.  Kept me up past bedtime three nights running, and the only thing that saved me was the switch from Daylight Savings Time. 

Life on a Young Planet

Lockwood recommended this one, and I'm glad he did.  I love reading books that give me physical pain when I realize I'm getting close to the end.  I hated finishing this book: it's so beautifully written, so fascinating, and so informative that I could have happily spent the rest of my life reading it.

From mere chemical traces to exquisitely preserved microfossils, from the first ambiguous hints of life to stromatolites, from extremophiles to extraterrestrials, from ancient atmospheres to oxygen revolutions, this book is a journey through life itself.  Andrew Knoll's sense of wonder is only matched by his scientific chops.  There are few people who can write using the big technical words and yet never for an instant seem dry.  He's one of those rare talents.  He also explains things well  without stopping the narrative cold; tough concepts hold no terrors for the layperson in this slender book.  At least, not if said layperson has read a few books on evolution and biology first - I'm not sure how a total neophyte would fare, but I suspect the sheer power of the prose would smooth over any difficulties.

I can tell you this: a lot of the things that confused me about how really ancient life is identified got cleared up in the course of reading this book, and I understand quite a bit more about how a little rock from Mars caused so much excitement with ambiguous evidence for life.

Andrew Koll, if you're reading this: I want a revised edition expanded by a factor of at least ten.

And that's it for now.  Not much 2010 left, but I'm sure we'll have at least one or two more of these before the end.

Tomes 2010: The "I Hate Connie Willis" Edition

Not because she's a bad author, but because she's precisely the opposite.  So we'll start with her, although I only just finished her book.

All Clear

Longtime readers may remember my howls of outrage when I stayed up all night to finish Blackout only to realize it's the first bloody half of a single book, the other half of which I'd have to wait six months for.  Now, hopefully, you understand why I abandoned all y'all for a night so that I'd have some chance to sleep a few hours before work.  Wasn't going to wait any longer, damn it.

Like WWII and the Blitz, this is a chaotic, nerve-wracking, horrifying, sometimes ludicrously funny and occasionally sublime experience.  I have only two things against it: 1) I had to wait six months for it after being left on the mother of all cliffhangers and 2) was that added bit of cheese at the end strictly necessary?  Okay, I have a third thing against it: I ended up reading until 7 in the ay-em two bloody days in a row because there was never a good stopping point, yet the book's too big to finish in one sitting in the middle of the work week.  Argh.

Anyway, if you want to see time travel done right, you owe yourself some Connie Willis.  And don't worry, my dear atheists and skeptics: when she coulda gone there, she didn't.  You'll see what I mean when you read it.

I anticipate with dread the next Connie Willis tome.  I'm getting too old for this all-nighter shit.  But I know I won't be able to sleep until I've read every word.

That book has the honor of being the only fiction I've read in months.  Now on to the science!

The Practical Geologist

We shall start with this one, as I want it out of the way.  I'll say just this about it: I'm glad I waited to buy it until I found it used.  And I'm glad I read it in between calls at work instead of during my prime reading time at home.  It's not that it was bad, it just felt rushed, incomplete, and too thin to really accomplish much.  As an introduction to field geology for those who might kinda sorta be thinking about it, this book probably would do fine.  But there have got to be better books out there for people who really want to get into the meat and the marrow of this stuff.

And that is all I shall say about it.

Invitation to Oceanography

Yes, I am the kind of person who reads textbooks for fun.  I found this Third Edition at Half-Price Books, and since I always have this vaguely guilty sense that I should really know more about oceanography, picked it up.  The worst problem with it is that it's too floppy and big to read comfortably in bed.  Aside from that, it's easy to read.  Everything's clearly and logically laid out, the info boxes actually contain informative bits, and once I got done with it I felt rather less stupid when it comes to how the oceans work. There's even a bit in there that has to do with Seattle and will come in useful as I'm writing up Seattle's geology, so that's a delight.

Right, we've had water, now let's have some ice.  Lots and lots of ice.  Got on a glacial kick, didn't I?  And it all started with

Living Ice

This one was a good one to begin with.  It's a small book, but packed with delicious information and lots of educational photos.  Biggest problem being, this is a reprint, and some genius at the publisher decided they didn't need no stinkin' color plates this time round.  Grr.  Even without those, this is an excellent guide to how glaciers do their thing, eminently readable.

It might leave you feeling a little cold however.  A-ha-ha.

Frozen Earth

I've been meaning to read this one for years.  Anyone with even a passing interest in ice ages should pick this up.  It tells the story of the past, present and future of ice ages, from how we figured out there had been some to what they were like, possible causes, effects, and what we've got to look forward to.  You'll find out how works of fine art can double as climate detectives, run in to our old friend Louis Agassiz, beat about the brush with Bretz, and engage in all sorts of other antics.

This book did a good job showing the investigative nature of science, and showing the sheer power of ice sheets.  I enjoyed it muchly.

Glacial Geology

Told you I read textbooks for fun.

This one was a tough slog.  For some reason, I have a hard time envisioning how glaciers work, and this isn't your pop-sci explain-everything-in-dumbed-down-terms sort of book.  It is what it is: a serious motherfucking tome, chock full o' technical terms, math, illustrations, diagrams, and references to papers.  It doesn't coddle you.  And although I rather felt as if a large glacier had spent the last week grinding its way over my brain afterward, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Bonus: it's written by Brits, and nobody Americanized the spelling.  Wouldn't have complained about a better copy editor, though - apparently, it was proofed by a person who failed English 101.  But the typos don't detract from the book, and give a former English major something to feel intelligent about just after being hit head-on with actual math, so that's a little bit of all right, then.

And, after that book, I finally can look at glacial landforms and start to really see how and why they are the way they are.  Now that I've been through this trio of books, glaciers aren't the cold ciphers they were before.  Hell, I can even talk to you about the difference between cold-based and warm-based glaciers, and what sorts of landforms they each produce.  That's no small thing, considering the most I knew about glaciers till now was that they're a) big, b) icy, and c) dig and dump a hell of a lot of rock.

With that, we're at 46 and counting for the year, and that's not counting the number of books I haven't read all the way through yet, of which there are a lot.

Consider yourselves warned.

Tomes 2010: A Mere Quartet

I've been reading a lot lately, I promise, but it's just that I've been dipping into many books at once, sampling here and there, and so I haven't got as many completely read as usual.  I'm on the verge of finishing a few more, so I figured I'd best get these out there before we ended up with a monster book dump.

Geology Underfoot in Illinois

This book actually depressed me horribly, but that's not a strike against it.  Everything about the Midwest (Chicago excepted) depresses me horribly.  I was born a Hoosier, but I just can't live there.  This book reinforced that: the author talks about relief of 120 feet as if it's amazing. 

That's just a wee bit pathetic.

However, that doesn't mean that Illinois doesn't have interesting geology, and this book points out quite a lot of it, including places I'd be happy to see.  There's plenty o' continental glacial landforms to peruse, some utterly delicious rock formations created by inland seas, and I've got to see Bell Smith Springs before I die.  That's old-home stuff - I cut my teeth on sandstone landforms. 

This book made me feel marginally better about the Midwest.  Perhaps my visit to my dear old mother won't be unmitigated hell after all....

The Street-Smart Naturalist: Field Notes From Seattle

You know what, it's hard to praise this book enough.  I loved and respected Seattle before I read it.  I understood, loved and respected Seattle afterward.  And now I know "it rains a mere 11 percent of the time."

After reading this book, I have a better relationship with the neighborhood crows.  I don't mind goose shit as much.  I know where to go downtown for a good round of geology as revealed in the buildings.  I'm planning a field trip for next summer to follow the glacial erratics.  I've got a handle on the invasive vs. native species.  And I'm more conversant with our local fault.  Few books can immerse you in the natural world contained within your city; fewer can do it with David's silken-smooth prose.  If you want to know Seattle, buy this book.  Carry it with you when you come visit.  And then open yourself to the natural wonders you might be able to find right in your very own city.

Natural Grace: The Charm, Wonder, & Lessons of Pacific Northwest Animals and Plants

I bought this at B&N along with The Street-Smart Naturalist, figuring they made a perfect pair, and do they!  I'm normally not that interested in babblings about plants and animals that look like nothing more than groovy granola musings on how majestic the natural world is, maaan, but this book had one particular selling point: its opening line.  Observe:

"You animal, you."

I fell in immediate love, and unlike most romances, this one survived its first young blush.  I read it as a follow-up to The Street-Smart Naturalist, and it proved the perfect compliment.  It expands the scope to the whole of the Northwest, taking us all the way from the most taken-for-granted animals round here (learned a lot about jellyfish and deer, f'rinstance), through dirt (which deserves more respect), up through geology, the tides, and killer whales. 

After reading these two books, I'll never see the Northwest in the same way again.  Especially not now that I can tell the difference between various trees.  They compliment each other with their knowledge, wisdom and humor.  Both are elegantly written, but not pretentious, and worth every instant I spent with them.

Beyond the Moon: A Conversational, Common Sense Guide to Understanding the Tides

The tides are a mystery to me.  They go in, they go out, I look at a tide table to understand when and where and how much.  I knew the moon and, to a lesser degree, the sun had something to do with it.  Suspected geography might as well.  Didn't know jack diddly about how this stuff actually worked.

Well, thanks to this book, I know a bit more now.  I can kinda sorta explain why there's only one high tide in the Gulf of Mexico, and why the Bay of Fundy has 50ft tides whereas many places only have 3-6ft.  I know the factors taken into account when making tide tables, how different bits interact, and why the Pacific Coast tides are so damned weird.  My city even makes a special guest appearance! 

This is a book written by a (former) amateur for amateurs - James McCully isn't a scientist, but he practically became one in writing this book.  And he gets definite kudos for this paragraph I marked out:

When people say, "Ignorance is bliss," they mean the ignorance that is oblivious to the problem.  There is another kind of ignorance.  Once you become aware that you are ignorant, it is anything but blissful.

True, dat!

There are a few things in the writing style that grate, but overall, this is a good introduction to how tides work, and you'll be less ignorant for having read it, which is a different kind of bliss.

And that's it.  That's all I've got - for now.

Tomes 2010: Special Edition

There are very few books that I immediately want to read again even before I've finished them.  This is one.

 Supercontinent: Ten Billion Years in the Life of Our Planet

What to say?  That Ted Nield writes with the kind of clarity and style that, should he turn it into a narrative, would make even the phone book fascinating reading?  That's one thing.  Add that to the fact that he's writing about something inherently fascinating, and you have the recipe for a truly outstanding book.

Nield tells two histories: the history of supercontinents forming and rifting, and the history of our discovery and understanding of them.  Many times, when an author tells two tales, one takes second place to the other.  Nield manages to unfold them both in tandem, so that neither is slighted.  And he still finds time for interesting diversions: gentle pokes at Madame Blavatsky and other purveyors of New Age lost continent woo, the United States' brief flirtation with the Queen of Mu, snowball earths, why the supercontinent Rodinia may have been vital to the evolution of life on Earth and why understanding supercontinents is so very vital to our survival now.  It's a lot of territory to cover.  He does it in 270 pages.

At the end, he fires a scathing broadside at Ken Ham's Creation Museum and those who abuse and ignore science for their inane ideologies.  One paragraph in particular stood out:

I have tried in this book to show something of how ideas in science often grade into - perhaps even sometimes derive from - myth, and I have done this to show how important it is to know the difference between the two.  The truth is that we, as a species, can no longer afford the luxury of irrationality and prejudice.  We are too many and too powerful to live in dreams.  And the greatest and most irrational of the prejudices from which we must free ourselves is one identified by Lucretius in the last century BC: the belief that the world was made for us.

This book makes the third of a trinity for me, the other two being Walter Alvarez's The Mountains of St. Francis and Ellen Morris Bishop's In Search of Ancient Oregon.  These three, so far, are my favorite books on geology for both the quality of their writing and their science.  But if I were forced to choose only one to give, it would be Supercontinent.  It says all that needs to be said about the importance of science in general and geology in particular, and it contains everything I love about science: the incredible power and beauty of the natural world, and the passion and persistence of the scientists who work so hard to understand it. 

If you want a taste of his writing, you can find one here, where he demonstrates the importance of not flying an airplane through an ash cloud.  Yes, I've become a pusher, giving you a taste for free so that you'll get hooked.  I happily admit to being a science dealer, and I don't think you'll hate me much for it.  Not after reading this book.

Now go forth and get hooked.

Tomes 2010: The Joye of Science

Before we get to the meat of the matter, a quick intro for my new readers (huzzah!  I can haz nu reedrz!): Tomes 2010 is my reading report project, and you can find previous reports here, here, here and here.  I've already incurred the wrath of one reader by increasing the workload on his wishlist, so read on at your own risk.  I'll put everything below the fold so you're not unduly tempted.

Tomes 2010: A Little Light Summer Reading

At this rate, I'm going to need a bigger apartment.  And yes, I could use the library, but a) I never know what exactly I'm going to want next and b) I never know what I'm going to refer back to in the future.  Not to mention c) I just like being surrounded by books.  Besides, they insulate!

I'm not even going to pretend I remember the order I read these in.  We'll just go alphabetically by science.  Follow me after the jump, and we'll get to it.

Tomes 2010: Parte the Third

We have some catching up to do.  My piles of unread books are growing faster than I can read them, but I'm trying to keep up.  It's only gonna get worse after I make my pilgrimage to Powell's in a couple of weeks.

Without further ado, then.

The Making of the Fittest: DNA and the Ultimate Forensic Record of Evolution

I adore this book, not to put too fine a point on it.  It's one of the best books on evolution I've ever read: clear, concise and beautifully written.  I know that other books make a strong case for evolution, but I found this one of the strongest.  And it's full of things I never knew about, like "the bloodless fish of Bouvet Island."  Yes, seriously, there are fish in the sea that haven't got any blood.  They're fascinating.

That's just the beginning.  Sean B. Carroll goes on to explain "the everyday math of evolution," which explained said math in such a way that even a complete math ignoramus such as myself could grasp it.  He made it easy to understand how even the tiniest advantage can, over evolutionary time (which is sometimes remarkably short), add up to big changes.  And he doesn't stop there, of course - he shows us the immortal genes, which have been passengers in a great many species; how new genes can be created from the old; explores convergent evolution; sifts through fossil genes, and quite a bit more.

It's not a huge book, but it feels like a huge book - there's so much in here so clearly explained that it feels like taking a full semester of evolution, including evo-devo.  I plan to read this one again and again, not to mention recommend it to anyone who's confused about how and why evolution works.

The Restless Northwest: A Geological Story

I've been trying to learn more about the crazy-quilt geology in my backyard, and Hill Williams's little book is an excellent place to start.  I learned quite a bit in these pages, including about a tectonic plate I hadn't known existed (it's dead now, alas).  This book covers it all, from the time when the Pacific Northwest barely existed to the present, with a glimpse into the future.  It also got me more interested in the Glacial Lake Missoula floods, which led to more informed adventures in eastern Washington than I would have otherwise have had.

Helpful sidebars explore some geological concepts in greater depth, and there are plenty of diagrams, illustrations and photographs to support the text.  This book isn't a big as Northwest Exposures, a book I read last year and found useful, but it feels more substantial and less hurried for all its brevity.  That, right there, is a sign of a writer who knows his craft!

Crater Lake: Gem of the Cascades

The link above is to the 2005 version.  I haven't got that one.  I've got the one from 1982, which proved amusing, because plate tectonics was still a new and astonishing theory rather than a respectable middle-aged one.  I picked it up at Half-Price Books because it was cheap and it was about geology.  It's a good guide to the Crater Lake region, although some of the science was rather obviously out of date.  There were also ten tons of typos and a horrible abuse of the comma splice, which actually made it more fun to read.  It's one of those little guides that don't get a lot of spit-and-polish editing, and the typeface made it look like it just came off the typewriter.  All of these quirks may have been remedied in the 2005 edition, alas.

For all its quirks, it really was a good introduction to Crater Lake, and you can tell that K.R. Cranson loves his subject.  He provides plenty of photographs and helpful information on how to find neat things, which will make my eventual trip to Crater Lake all the more fruitful.

Fossils: The History of Life

Richard Fortey is one of my favorite writers ever, and while this book doesn't contain as much of his prose as Life or Earth, he more than makes up for that with his gorgeous photos.  Page after page after page of glorious, fantastic fossils in full, glossy color.  Yum! 

This is a kind of all-purpose book, which would be a good gift for anyone you know who's just now starting to develop an interest in fossils.  It explores everything from how fossils are formed to how to recognize them, collect, clean and even use them.  Any good fossil guide does that, of course, but this one goes further, explaining what they tell us about life, the Universe and everything.  It's even got a section on fossil DNA - not like Sean Carroll's exploration, which talks about genes fossilized within genomes, but actual fossil DNA dug out of frozen mammoths and such.  That chapter alone is worth buying the book, especially if you have an older copy without it.

This book is perfect: informative, with coffee-table quality illustrations in an actual readable size.  And it's by Richard Fortey, who is not only one hell of a paleontologist but also one hell of a wordsmith.  I actually read this one very slowly, interspersed with other books, because I didn't want it to end too soon.

Stories in Stone: Travels Through Urban Geology

I have one quibble with this book: it should have included color photographs.  That's all it's really missing, though.  David B. Williams, who ended up interested in urban geology because he got stuck in Boston after living in the wild, wonderful geologic paradise of Utah.  Buildings clad in stone became his friends, a link to the natural world.  This book eventually resulted, and you'll probably never look at a city the same way after reading it.

Each chapter is about a different stone: brownstone, limestone, gneiss, marble, travertine and more.  Architecture connects to geology connects to oddball tidbits of history and human endeavor (and sometimes silliness) in one seamless whole.  And there's a website.  And David sometimes does geological tours of Seattle.  I'm so there!

This is another book I didn't want to put down, because it felt like it was introducing me to quite a few friends - the Getty Museum, the petrified log gas station, and others - that I didn't want to part from so soon.  And it's given me ideas for a great many more adventures.  Inspiring, informative, intriguing - perfect!

That's it for the moment.  There's going to be plenty more soon, though, one of which will occasion a discussion about the etiquette of cannibalism.  How's that for a cliffhanger, eh?

Tomes 2010: A Lengthy Update

It's been long enough since I've updated this list that you've probably forgotten all about my little project, which is to keep a list of the books I've read in 2010.  Got a bit sidetracked by the Muse cracking the whip, but I have, indeed, still been reading.  So allow me to sum up.

First, ye olde science tomes:

The Mountains of Saint Francis 

This is the best book on geology I've ever read.  Ever.  Oh, others have been wonderful, informative, and well-written, but there's something about this one that just filled me to the brim.  Maybe it's the shock - I thought of Walter Alvarez in connection with dinosaurs and killer meteorites, not the mountains of Italy.  Maybe it's the fact he brings a totality of place and time to the subject, allowing you to experience more than just the rocks of Italy.  Maybe it's the fact he introduced me to some fascinating fathers of geology, people I'd never known: Nicolaus Steno, who began his career in the 1600s by dissecting bodies and ended it by discovering Earth's anatomy; Ambrogio Soldani, an abbot who pioneered micropaleontology all the way back in the 1700s.  Maybe it's the rocks, who become characters in their own right, and with whom one can become very close friends indeed.

I don't know.  There's just something about this book - it's bloody poetic is what it is, gorgeously written, easy to understand while not being dumbed-down, full of passion and wonder and delight.  Walter Alvarez adores geology, and his love glows from every page.  I wish everyone would read this book.  Anyone who's ever been even mildly interested in how mountains came to be, what rocks tell us, and how we know what they're saying, would benefit.  Anyone who wants to fall in love with science, whether it be for the first or five hundreth time, will find this book is a perfect matchmaker.  And anyone who's ever loved Italy will love it even more after this.

The only thing it's missing is color plates.  Otherwise, it's perfect in all its particulars, and I'm grateful indeed to Walter for writing it.  More, please!

The Seven Hills of Rome: A Geological Tour of the Eternal City

If you haven't got enough of Italian geology, here's an excellent source.  And it's got walking tours!  This book is perfect for both armchair and actual tourists who want to know how Rome was really built, and would like to discover some earth history among the ruins.  This book is a must-have if you're a geology buff bound for Rome - there's a little something for everyone in your tour group, so you can keep the non-geology buffs distracted with wonderful old buildings and such like while you get on with enjoying the rocks.  Art, architecture, history and science, all rolled into one easy-to-read volume!

Now.  Who's going with me?

Devil in the Mountain

Simply astounding.  That's what this book is.  The Andes are fascinating mountains and Simon Lamb absolutely does them justice.  You'll find out how puzzling features like the Altiplano came to be, for instance.  And it provides a fascinating look into field research: the difficulties of getting it done in politically unstable areas of the world, the extremes in weather, the hazards of altitude sickness, camping in the freezing cold, dealing with horribly limited resources....  Simon puts you there.  This book is a must for anyone who wants to live the geologist's life, or wants to know more about it, as well as learn how the Andes came to be.

Longitude

A fun, intriguing, and very brief book that makes one realize how fortunate we are to live in an age of clocks.  We don't often think of clocks in connection to map coordinates, do we?  And we don't think how bloody difficult it is to calculate a thing like longitude, which is nothing like latitude when you get right down to it.  Dava describes the problems confronting sailors before the discovery of an efficient means to determine longitude in vivid detail.  She weaves tales of suffering sailors, confounded captains, broke backers, and myriad others who would have been much better off knowing where exactly they were.  And then she puts us in the middle of the wars between astronomers and clockmakers as they fought for a very rich prize, paints the travails of Britain's stratified society, and brings to life some of the most remarkable time pieces ever made.

The Science of Crystals

Can I tell you what a relief it is to read about the actual science behind crystals, rather than all the New Age ooo-they're-majick!!1!!1! crap?  Alas, no image of the book (hence this nifty NASA photo), and it's thoroughly out of print, but I was able to pick it up in a used bookstore, and got a crash-course in the history of crystallography, how crystals are formed, and the nifty uses for them.  One doesn't often think of the pharmaceutical industry when contemplating crystals, but they're of some use there.

Without crystals, our modern world wouldn't work.  So it's a good thing to get to know them a bit better.  Besides, they're just interesting.

The Selfish Gene

Yes, I've finally got round to becoming a true Dawkins fan.  And I can see why The Selfish Gene has excited so many people for so long.  We're not really used to thinking of the gene as the basis for natural selection - we know genes have a hand (they should - they made 'em), but we tend to emphasize the organism or the species, when it makes more sense to think of genes as the fundamental unit.  And viewing natural selection through that lens resolves some rather thorny problems with altruism and social insects. 

Some folks report they found it a depressing read.  I find it reassuring.  So what if genes are basically selfish little buggers?  In their quest for immortality, they learned to get on with others, and so, perhaps, shall we.

River Out of Eden

This is an interesting metaphor: genes as rivers, flowing, diverging, contained within their banks.  This is a handy little volume, brief but concise, which seems like an excellent introduction for folks who don't know much about evolution.  It's short enough to avoid intimidating those who equate large science books with dense, technical pain; it starts with a Biblical metaphor useful for suckering in those who haven't yet shaken off their God delusion (there's even a chapter titled "God's Utility Function!"), and it explains everything wonderfully clearly.  For those of us who are already familiar with the subject, it's a good refresher, gives us some additional tools for thinking about evolution, and has a wonderful chapter at the back speculating on the commonalities we should expect to see between us and life on other worlds.  Like all of Dawkins's books, well worth the time spent.

Our Choice

This has been my bathroom reading for the past month or so.  I figured that's the best place to contemplate the ways in which we're flushing our planet down the shitter.  What's wonderful about this book (aside from the utterly gorgeous photos) is that there are so many simple, sensible, low-cost and/or profitable ways to solve the climate crisis.  What's infuriating is that so many people are too stupid or greedy to implement them.  Happily, the bathroom makes a great chamber for screaming in rage - wonderful resonance in there.

This book should be required reading for absolutely everyone in the world - while we still have one.

We're not done yet, my darlings.  Let's move on to the fiction!

Blackout

Don't read this book.  Buy it, but don't - I repeat, don't - read it until the last half of it, All Clear, comes out in October.  I'd forgotten that this, like Lord of the Rings, is a book that doesn't end so much as stop because it's not the whole book.  Fuck you, publishers!  Argh.

But it's a damned good read so far.  If any of you are familiar with Connie Willis's time travel stories, you know she handles them right.  This isn't a happy one - it's frightening, dazing and confusing, and people get hurt.  We're talking about historians trapped in London during the Blitz, after all.  And it stops on a rather desperate note, which is why I'm saying, don't even touch it until you have both books in hand.

To Say Nothing of the Dog

After an experience like Blackout, of course, there's nothing one can do but turn to this time-traveling tour-de-force.  It's one of the funniest books I've ever read, and one of the most impressive.  It's written in the first person, yet Connie Willis manages to tell you something the narrator doesn't know without resorting to cheap tricks.  You know someone's a hell of a great writer when they can do that.

You'll never look at Victorian England, time travel, love or seances in the same way ever again after this book.  You'll also probably find yourself wanting to read Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat, which this book pays homage to, and that's something everyone should do before they die.  And, of course, you'll have to read P.G Wodehouse as well.

Bellwether

This is a science fiction book about fads.  Indeed, fads.  And it's about chaos, and scientific discovery, and love, and really idiotic management trends, and sheep, and a great many other things besides. 

And I have to say, Connie puts forth a pretty damned good explanation for how fads happen.

I don't know any writer outside of Terry Pratchett who can pull together so many disparate bits into madcap comedy and make it work so well.  Which is why I read Bellwether once more.  Once you start, you can't stop. 

Inside Job

For anyone who's ever wanted to see it stuck to psychics, this is your book.  For anyone who's ever loved H. L. Mencken, this is your book.  For anyone who loves skepticism, this is your book.

And, of course, this being Connie Willis, there's plenty of twists, turns, and a bit o' romance. 

I don't want to say too much about it - might give things away - but let's just say she gets channelers, editors of skeptical mags, and former Hollywood actresses-turned-mythbusters just right.  And while things take a turn for the supernatural here and there, I think you'll still end up satisfied.



And no, I wasn't done with Connie Willis just yet.  I also dipped into my favorite short story collections.  I had to re-read "Spice Pogram" in Impossible Things, didn't I?  Screwball romantic comedies featuring aliens, linguists, strippers, wanna-be child stars, and possible Spielbergs can't go wrong.  This collection also contains "Ado," which shows what can go horribly wrong when extreme political correctness and Shakespeare collide; "Even the Queen," which is what happens when people ask Connie Willis to write about women's issues; and "At the Rialto," which is one of the best romances ever written about quantum physics.  I moved on to Miracle and Other Christmas Stories, the title story of which is a hilarious take on Christmas spirit (and spirits).  It also seemed necessary to go back to beginnings, so I picked up Fire Watch, which is the short story collection that made me realize that women could write extremely good science fiction.  Not to mention very funny science fiction - "Blued Moon" plays with the idea that there's something in the old superstition that coinky-dinks happen more during blue moons.  The title story is an excellent introduction to her time-traveling world.  And my absolute favorite story by her ever is "Sidon in the Mirror," which haunts me to this day, and makes the soles of my feet feel occasionally tender.

At last, I had to put Connie Willis aside and move on to other things.  Few authors are a worthy follow-up to her, but here's one:

The Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox

I have a quarrel with publishers, who decided to keep the first and third books in this trilogy in print, but not the second.  Buggers.  Luckily, there's this handy edition, which is still available used, and worth every penny of the $50 I spent on it (although the thing's available for $25 now that I own it, of course).  If you've ever wondered what Sherlock Holmes would be like if he were an elderly Chinese Taoist, this is the book that will answer that question.

In turns hysterically funny, lyrically beautiful, and in many places remarkably historically accurate, replete with Chinese folk and fairytales, Taoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism, lots of sex, lots of intrigue, lots of paeans to Holmes and Watson, and gorgeously written through and through, this is without doubt one of the best fantasy series ever written.  I laughed, I cried, it became a part of me - and I desperately wish Barry Hughart was like Terry Pratchett, churning out book after book until I could fill an entire bookcase.  One thing I know: I'll never read anything quite like this ever again.  I only wish I could.

So there we are.  All up-to-date.  More will be coming soon, doubtless - I just began The Making of the Fittest by Sean Carroll, and so far it's phenomenal.  I've just picked up two local books, Natural Grace by William Dietrich (and who can fail to love a book that begins "You animal, you"?), and The Street-Smart Naturalist by David B. Williams.  There's my wish-list to contend with, and my to-be-read shelves aren't yet empty, so I expect the Tomes 2010 list will be bulging even more very soon.

Let's just hope they made the floors of my apartment strong enough to hold them all...

Tomes 2010: The First Books o' 2010

I'd like to draw your attention to the sidebar for a moment, where (in addition to my half-assed attempt to update the blogroll - if you're missing, let me know), you'll find a new section entitled Tomes 2010, right there above said blogroll.  It's part of my New Year's resolutions: I've decided that I'm going to keep a list of books I've finished this year.  It threatens to become longer than the blogroll at some point.

I've already completed two.  And I shall now inflict them upon you.

Roadside Geology of the Northern Rockies

This has been my bathroom reading for the past month or so.  Roadside Geology books are perfect for el baño.  Hey, if you're gonna spend a year and a half of your life there, you might as well learn something, right?

This book has the usual interesting bits of geology you can see close to the roadways, and covers Idaho, Montana and Wyoming, not to mention billions of years.  It's informative, entertaining, and educational.  But my favorite part has to be this:

Basin, one of the small towns between Butte and Helena, was once a very active mining community where mills and smelters treated the ores dug from the surrounding mine.  Most of the mining was for silver and gold, now priced too low to make the ore bodies in this area commercially mineable.  Apparently there are some radioactive minerals in the district because several of the old properties have become "health mines."  A small fee is charged for the privilege of sitting in an old mine opening and basking in the radiation.  Exactly how this can be healthful eludes the authors of this book.

Love that dry, scientific sense of humor!

In Search of Ancient Oregon: A Geological and Natural History

I'm not going to quote from this book, because all of it is quotable.  Dr. Ellen Morris Bishop, author and photographer, is a wonderful writer who brings Oregon's geology to brilliant life.  It's rare to find a PhD scientist who's also a talented writer who's also a brilliant photographer, but Dr. Bishop is all three.  You hear words like "expertly written" and "lavishly illustrated" tossed about for books that don't strictly deserve it.  This one most decidedly does.

If you've ever been even the slightest bit interested in geology, you owe it to yourself to get this book.  If you like landscape photography but don't give two shits about how the pretty rocks came to be there, you owe it to yourself to get this book.  If you're interested in the flora and fauna of long-vanished worlds, you owe it to yourself to get this book.  If you want to know some awesome places to visit in Oregon, you owe it to yourself to get this book.

I hope she heads for Washington State next.  I really, really want a book this spectacular for my own stomping grounds.

So far, we're off to a wonderful start.  Now we're on to The Seven Hills of Rome, and for bathroom reading we've got The Physics of the Buffyverse.  I'm also nibbling round the edges of Greek Architecture and Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings.  So you can expect Tomes 2010 to fill up rather rapidly.