Thursday, April 21, 2011

Disaster 1906

Disaster 1906: the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire
© 1967 Edward F. Dolan Jr.
172 pages


If, as some say, God spanked the town
For being over-frisky
Why did He burn the churches down
And save Hotaling's whisky?
-p. 175

Years ago I read a fantastic book called Disaster! The Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906. A few years later I determined I wanted to buy my own copy of that book, but alas! Woe! My home library no longer had the book and I forgot the title of it. I hit Amazon, and this seemed like it might be what I was looking for.  It actually isn't, as I found out while reading the book and noticed that key elements from the masterpiece I remembered were missing -- like Enrico Caruso hearing of the volcano eruption in his hometown and thanking God he was in safe San Francisco, only to wake up to an earthquake and an inferno.

Disaster stories interest me, hence why my home library contains several books on the Titanic and why I've read various books on the San Francisco and Chicago fires, as well as the Galveston Hurricane. Part of this is what Augustine might call gross curiosity -- the appeal of looking at a car wreck -- but I'm also fascinated by the way people react when their world is completely eradicated and the society-as-usual  no longer exists. In Disaster 1906,  the sleeping town of San Francisco is visited by a mighty earthquake, and then ravaged for several days by fires which consume much of the city.  Communications are negligible, the water pipes are dry, and yet -- people survive. People freely gather together to help pick up the ruins, men from all walks of life join the fire brigades,  women empty their pantries cooking food for the newly-homeless, and a corrupt mayor  suddenly begins to fulfill his moral responsibilities as a public official and becomes a hero. And people are clever! They improvise! They fill the bathtubs with water before the cisterns leak completely dry, saving the water for use in fire fighting: they construct stoves of bricks and random metal grates.  Throughout the long night, as the fires burn and destroy homes, businesses, and all the hopes of tomorrow, people gather together and tell jokes: they sing and entertain one another, and when they day breaks they start picking up the pieces.

Disaster 1906 was probably written for younger readers given its length, but it's a fine introduction to the disaster and one written by someone who grew up in San Francisco, and who is so fond of the City by the Bay that his last chapter is devoted to  commenting on the rebirth of the city after the disaster, in which the wild child of the west coast grew into a Queen who astonished all the world at the Exposition in 1916, but who maintained her childish sassiness.

Related:

  • Disaster! The Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906, Dan Kurzman
  • The Great Earthquake and Fire: San Francisco, 1906. John Castillo Kennedy. I may have also read this one while trying to find Disaster!  I think my confusion in trying to find the book is warranted given how similar these three titles are. 
  • Good Life in Hard Times: San Francisco in the 20s and 30s, Jerry Flamm. One of my favorite books.


This is my fifth review in 15 hours, and while two of those were leftovers from last week and the week before last, it's still odd. Why do I go days without being able to progress in collecting my thoughts on a given book, and then have days in which it's easy?

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

The Book of Wisdom

The Book of Wisdom, or The Wisdom of Solomon
from the New English Bible, © 1970 Cambridge and Oxford University Press

Christian personification of Wisdom

My favorite book in the Judeo-Christian bible is that of Ecclesiastes,  in which a man known as 'the preacher' or 'the teacher'  engages in a search for the meaning of life, exploring both the 'low road' of exulting in pleasure and the 'higher' road of seeking wisdom and religious discipline. He finds that the best approach may be one of moderation, as neither hedonism nor obsessive scrupulosity create happiness over the long run. I think Ecclesiastes a humble and pragmatic book, and so when Isaac Asimov mentioned that a book of the original Jewish and Catholic bibles called The Book of Wisdom was similar to Ecclesiastes in genre, I determined that I had to read it.

Wisdom shines bright and never fades; she is easily discerned by those who love her, and by those who seek her she is found. She is quick to make herself known to those who desire knowledge of her; the man who rises early in search of her will not grow weary in the quest, for he will find her seated at his door. To set all one's thoughts on her is prudence in its perfect shape, and to lie wakeful in her cause is the short way to peace of mind. For she herself ranges in search of those who are worthy of her; on their daily path she appears with kindly intent, and in all their purposes meets them half-way. (6: 12-17)

The Book of Wisdom is not really a book of wisdom  in the same sense that Ecclesiastes and Proverbs are, though it does praise wisdom lavishly.  Proverbs refers to wisdom as a woman at least once, and the Book of Wisdom takes that personification and runs with it for page after page. I took perverse pleasure in reading these sections of the text as though they were a poem in praise of Athena, although the Christian personification of wisdom is referred to as Sophia. The prose or this translation thereof is beautiful and stylish. I relished reading the text aloud, although the viciousness of some of it amused me.  While the author doesn't tell you what qualifies as wisdom, he is quick to tell you it is the path to God, the path to both peace on earth and immortality. The godless who reject it are treated with as much hate as the author can muster, which I thought somewhat comical. The lack of wisdom is its own punishment, just as virtue is its own reward.


Protestants may not have heard of the Book of Wisdom because it -- along with books like Tobit, Judas, the Maccabees, and additions to Daniel and Easter -- were dropped by various Protestant denominations preparing their own bibles. These books were included in the original Jewish canon, the Septuagint, and would have been read by Paul, Jesus, and the other apostles. A later Jewish canon, compiled  around the turning of the second century, threw out those books which were written in Greek*. The Christian church didn't, though. The devotional poetry to wisdom aside, this book makes for interesting reading. It's not a very Jewish book, at least not by the standards of modern Jewish orthodoxy. Christianity and Islam have a completely different notion of Satan than Judaism does: the Christians turn a loyal servant of God who tests people and gives them opportunities to strengthen themselves by triumphing over temptation into a pathetic rebel who attacks people just to be a dick, but whose attacks are co-opted by God into use as trials.  In the Book of Wisdom, though, he is mentioned as spiteful, which seems a hint to me that the author shared the same villainous perception of Satan that some Jews around the turn of the century did -- Jesus refers to him as a roaring lion trying to eat people, and (I think) as a foul Dragon.  I don't know what happened to that train of thought within Judaism, but I think they're better for having lost it.


"But the souls of the just are in God's hand and torment shall not touch them. In the eyes of foolish men they seemed to be dead; their departure was reckoned as defeat, and their going from us as disaster. But they are at peace, for though in the sight of men they may be punished, they have a sure hope of immortality; and after a little chastisement they will receive great blessings, because God has tested them and found them worthy to be his."  (3: 1-9)

Protestants often attack the Catholic idea of Purgatory as unbiblical, and they're sort of right -- because they removed the parts of the Bible which refer to Purgatory from their own canon. It would be as if I held up the Jefferson Bible and said, "The idea that Jesus worked miracles is unbiblical!", or tore out Genesis from the Torah and said "The idea of a Great Flood is unbiblical!".   The Book of Wisdom specifically mentions that even the good who die must endure 'some chastisement', which sounds like the Catholic idea of purgatory as it has been explained to me by three sources -- two books and a deacon.  I'd be very much interested in finding out when this book was written, and in what part of the world, because the author is obsessed with bastards. He devotes several 'paragraphs'  to attacking people born out of wedlock, leading me to believe that there's some 'illegitimately-born' monarch or warlord somewhere that he's taking aim at. There's also a section that celebrates a martyr for wisdom, which probably also has a real-world inspiration.

If you're looking for wisdom literature, this isn't it -- but if you want to find a lovely poem about wisdom, or gain some insights into the evolution of Jewish and Christian thinking, I would suggest tracking this down.  The Oxford/Cambridge translation is very readable

* I think this may have had something to do with the fact that the Temple had just been destroyed by Rome (Year 70)  in retaliation for the Jewish revolt, which was prompted by the attempted installment of a statue inside the Temple to honor the emperor as god. Hatred of all things Greco-Roman may have prompted the dumping of these Jewish texts written in Greek.

The Stars like Dust

The Stars like Dust (originally titled as The Rebellious Stars)
© 1951 Isaac Asimov
From Triangle, pp. 349 - 516. © 1952




Only a few days before his graduation from the University of Earth, Biron Farril awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of his room clicking happily to itself -- clicking with radiation. No university prank, this seemed more an attack on his life, an attempt to unite Biron with his recently executed father.  And so he flees Earth to seek sanctuary in Rhodia, to ask protection from a friend of his father's. So begins a story of politics, rebellion, and ambition with more plot twists than there are stars in the sky.

Though classified in Asimov's empire series,  this story appears to have been set rather early: humanity has settled a little over a thousand worlds, and while one of those worlds -- the aptly named Tyrann -- has established a fifty-planet sphere of influence for itself, the Empire proper is never mentioned, nor is Trantor.    The focus is instead on the dominion of the Tyranni, who repress scientific advancement in the worlds they control to restrict the possibility of rebellion. Still,  tyranny does not sit well with human beings: there is a conspiracy, and in fleeing Earth Biron has stumbled upon a galactic chessboard to be used by the Tyranni and the rebels-in-waiting, each manipulating him for their own ends. His greatest hope is to find a rumored rebellion world in the Horsehead Nebula, blessedly free from any politics except staunch resistance to the tyrants.

Although Asimov makes passing reference to technology -- ships Jumping through hyperspace, devices which project images into the mind -- the emphasis here is on political mystery, and it kept me thoroughly entertained though I grew weary of the rug constantly being pulled out from under me. The Second Foundation-like ending was a bit of a surprise, but the novel's length shortened the number of possible resolutions. The last words of the novel reminded me a bit of Star Trek's bewildering episode "The Omega Glory".  As with seeing that episode for the first time, I wasn't sure if I found it amusing or bizarrely inspiring or not.

I fully intend to finish the Empire trilogy this year, so I'll probably be reading Currents in Space sometime soon.



This Week at the Library (20 April)

I wanted to share something that happened to me today, but it's a longish story so I found some code for it to hide behind.






Anyway! My library loot:


Last week I picked up:

  • Evolution: Society, Science, and the Universe, an anthology of essays by various authors, including Stephen Jay Gould, Jared Diamond, and Freeman Dyson. Evolution is used in its most broad change: change in systems over time. 
  • How to Read and Why, Harold Bloom. Haven't gotten far into this yet, but its focus is on reading literature as a means of cultivating ourselves as people.

This week I added:

  • The Catholic Church and the Bible, Peter M.J. Stravinskas
  • The First Salute, Barbara W. Tuchman
  • The New English Bible: The Apocrypha, Cambridge University Press and Oxford University Press.
  • The Accidental Time Machine, Joe Haldeman


I've been trying to check out a Haldeman book for weeks now, but every time I go into the library I forget his name and wind up wandering the aisles muttering "Handler? DeHandle? Handleton?" and disturbing other patrons. I remembered him this week, though! Pity my library doesn't have The Forever War.

You can expect a review of Isaac Asimov's The Stars like Dust either tonight or tomorrow, and I'll also be finishing Disaster 1906: The San Francisco Earthquake and Fire. The great quake struck on Wednesday, 18 April, so reading it this week seemed appropriate.

Why Do Catholics Do That?

Why Do Catholics Do That? A Guide to the Teachings and Practices of the Catholic Church
© 1997 Kevin Orlin Johnson
304 pages


Continuing in my newfound curiosity about the oldest extant Christian organization, I accidentally read the book that inspired the man who created 'Catholics What We Believe and Why' -- the PalTalk chatroom that made me interested in gaining a little Latin rite literacy in the first place. His motivation is understandable: this is an excellent, thorough book. Johnson goes into great detail explaining the theological significant of elements like the Eucharist, but also reveals these element's historic origins, like the Mass's pomp and ritual being drawn from Roman courts.

Johnson's  work is in four sections -- Faith, Worship, Culture, and Custom. Between them they cover a great deal --  Catholic symbols, the calendar,  the difference between Latin and other rites,  the thinking behind church architecture,  the role of incense and prayers,  church law, the Cycle of Redemption, and more. In addition to the Church itself, Johnson also gives a short history of the Vatican City (complimentary, of course -- no corrupt political popes here!) and writes about books which are not included in the Catholic canon as such, but which  still may add to a person's understanding and appreciation of the Christian faith. One of these books is the story of St. Christopher, a giant who decided he wanted to serve the strongest king alive, and whose path to Christ took him into the desert where he found Satan marching around with his army and joined up.

My only caveat is Johnson's light protectiveness of the Church. I say light because as far as I am concerned, the man is impressive in admitting that the Church has taken inspiration from human culture as well as 'divinity': Easter's pagan roots are acknowledged by him freely. Still , as a child of the Church he leads the reader around some of the unpleasantness in Catholic history, like the utter corruptness of the papacy through much of medieval history.  Even so, I'd recommend this to anyone curious or interested in Catholicism. As far as I'm concerned, it's first-rate.

If you're wondering what the imprimateur mentioned on the cover is,  well -- that's answered in the book, too. (It means the bishop in question has read the book and found it worthy of examination.)

The Heart and the Fist

The Heart and the Fist: The Education of a Humanitarian, the Making of a Navy SEAL
© 2011 Eric Greitens
320 pages


Heart and the Fist is a fascinating and inspirational account of an idealistic young student dedicating to serving humanity across the globe.  His activism began in his teen years, where he developed an approach  to aid work which involved strengthening people's ability to help themselves. As a university student, Eric visited China, Rwanda, Chile, and other locations around the globe before deciding that sometimes the helpless need more than a hand offering assistance: they need a fist offering protection. Thus he joins the Navy SEALs,  one of the world's most elite combat units, and serves in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other areas where the US army maintains an active presence.

The book's subtitle does it justice, for it can be divided between the growth of Eric as a young man with a passion for service, and his training as a SEAL. His accounts of his entrance into the Navy and of the months of training that followed are more thorough than any other soldiers' memoir's I've ever read. What he endures is remarkable,  I think while studying at Oxford -- Mr. Greitens is a Rhodes scholar as well as a Navy SEAL, doncha know -- he must have read from the Stoics,  for Greitens is almost a model for the 'Stoic warrior'. He teaches himself mental discipline, utter focus, to concentrate only on that which is in his power to control. This sees him through the worst the Navy can throw at him, including 'Hell Week'.  After he graduates as a SEAL, the book loses focus a bit -- following him to four different areas of the world united by nothing but the fact that the US military is active there. Greitens is chosen for several of these assignments based on his past experience as a humanitarian and his effective leadership as an officer.

I truly enjoyed reading Greiten's account, of seeing his approach to helping people and handling difficult situations. What will make the book stand for me is the character of Greitens himself:  he's an ideal soldier, one who cares most about people and who is so self-disciplined that Navy regulations seem moot.  Even after  his term of service is up, Greitens goes to work setting up a foundation to help injured military personnel continue to give back to their communities, allowing them to continue to be of service -- which is their desire.

The book recommends itself in many ways, and I think parents who want to help their adolescent kids find their way through life might find this book a helpful gift.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Teaser Tuesday (19 April)

Teaser Tuesday!

I missed last week, so I'm going to cheat more than usual share an extra teasers this week, drawn from one of the quotations I've copied in my journal in recent months.

Oh,  Mother of God, she prayed, be with us now.  The screams sounded downstairs. Feet thumped on the stairs. Men's voices shouted in a strange tongue. Be with us now and at the hour of our death for the English had come. 

p. 60, The Archer's Tale. Bernard Cornwell

Sir Francis Bacon, who provided some of the ideas that Johnson put to use, famously gave the advice: 'Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider.' 

- p. 21, How to Read and Why, Harold Bloom


We humans can willfully strive to control our emotions. We can decide which objects and situations we allow in our environment and on which objects we lavish time on.

- p. 82, The Age of Absurdity, Michael Foley. (I read this back in January and have yet to review it. Oh, the shame!)