A week on Sunday 24/52

Welcome to a new edition of a weekly post, rounding up thoughts, quotes and links to things I enjoyed reading. This week, I finished reading Don Quixote (translated by Tobias Smollett, 2001 Modern Library Paperback Edition) - horray! And online reading lead to a little collection of quotes I liked.

Storm

Winnipeg and parts of Manitoba were hit with storms Tuesday evening. In our area and in St. Boniface, there was a lot of rain and wind. This tree in front of the St. Boniface Cathedral was one of the most impressive casualties:

Don Quixote

Finally, I finished this brick. It’s a classic, and I’m happy to have read it, but there are some classics you enjoy more than others. I don’t like delusional characters and I don’t agree that some morality is to be found in Don Quixote’s way of seeing the world. Trying to sympathise with these arguments makes me impatient. That being said, the friendship between Don Quixote and his squire, Sancho Panza, demonstrated in their dialogue, has a touching quality to it. Take, for example, how the squire names the knight:

(…) the knight asked what had induced Sancho, now, rather than at any other time, to stile him the knight of the rueful countenance. “Truly, answered Sancho, I have been looking at you some time, by the light of that torch the unfortunate traveller held in his hand; and in good faith, your worship cuts the most dismal figure I have almost ever seen; and it must certainly be occasioned either by the fatigue you have undergone in this battle, or by the want of your teeth.” “That is not the case, replied his master; but the sage who is defined to writ the history of my exploits, hath thought proper that I should assume some appellation, by the example of former knights, one of whom too the title dog the Flaming Sword; another, of the Unicorn; a third, of the Ladies; a fourth, of the Phoenix; a fifth, of the Griffin; a sixth, called himself the Knight of death: and by these epithets and symbols, they were known all over the face of the earth; and therefore, I say, that the fore-mentioned sage hath now put it into thy thoughts, and directed thy tongue to call me the knight of the rueful countenance; an appellation that henceforward I adopt: and that it may suit me the better, I am resolved to have a most woeful figure painted upon my shield, with the first opportunity.” “There is no occasion, said Sancho, to throw away time and money on such a device; your worship has no more to do, but uncover your own face; and I’ll warrant, those who behold it, will call it a rueful one, without your having recourse to pictures and shields to explain your meaning; and you may well believe I tell you nothing but the truth, when I maintain, tho’ it be but in jest, that hunger and the want of teeth, makes your worship look so ill-favoredly, that we may very well save the expense of a rueful picture.”

Don Quixote could not help laughing at the pleasantry of Sancho, tho’ he actually determined to assume that name, and have his shield and target painted according to his fancy. (p 181)

My favourite passage is Sancho’s appraisal of sleep:

(…) while I sleep, I am troubled neither with fear nor hope, nor toil nor glory; and praise be to him who invented sleep, which is the mantle that shrouds all human thoughts, the food that dispels hunger, the drink that quenches thirst, the fire that warms the cold, the cool breeze that moderates heat; in a word, the general coin that purchases every commodity; the weight and balance that makes the shepherd even with his sovereign, and the simple with the sage: there is only one bad circumstance, as I have heard, in sleep; it resembles death; inasmuch ,as between a dead coarse and a sleeping man there is no apparent difference.” (p 1051)

Enjoying

  1. On a recent episode of the podcast “What it’s like to be… with Dan Heath”, Esther Berkowitz, a clinical ethicist, described an aspect concerning the respect of autonomy this way:

    “there's this concept that I really love called the "dignity of risk", which is the idea that we support people's dignity in allowing them to make decisions that sometimes are high risk or very inadvisable. But that's a part of human dignity to be allowed to take risks and potentially not have good outcomes.”

    It struck me that the New York Times article, “Tenderly Tracking My Husband” by Caroline Bailey (via Kottke) offers an example of this concept in action (Archive link).

  2. On the one hand, an article titled “My Students Can’t Read” by Tyler Jagt is alarming, but I like the point he makes on the subject of analysis:

    “When I assign analysis, I am not trying to extract a polished product; I am trying to put the student’s mind through resistance in order to make it stronger. Offloading the struggle to a chatbot does not ‘free students up for higher-order work.’ It deprives them of building the strength to do any substantial cognitive work at all.”

    On the other hand, “The Power of Patience” by Jennifer L. Roberts sounds ennobling.

    “I want to focus […] on creating opportunities for students to engage in deceleration, patience, and immersive attention. I would argue that these are the kind of practices that now most need to be actively engineered by faculty, because they simply are no longer available ‘in nature,’ as it were. Every external pressure, social and technological, is pushing students in the other direction, toward immediacy, rapidity, and spontaneity—and against this other kind of opportunity. I want to give them the permission and the structures to slow down.”

    (This practice of attention reminds me of Hisham Matar’s book The Return, in which his staring at artwork is a practice he describes.)

  3. This quote by Charles Leifer: “What sustains me through difficulties is not a single thing. On motorcycles, it's just me, the bike, and the environment. Selling the home, it was the harder thing: to turn away from selfish scheming towards faith that right principles, when put into action, would produce a good outcome. AI cannot address either, because the sense of technical mastery is itself the reward for the hours spent in practice. And similarly, it cannot supplant faith, because faith rests upon hope, and these grow only by taking a risk. I had to experience a lot of pain, mistakes, loss to understand the value of the kind of love Dickens writes into Betsey's spirit.” (via Robin Sloan)

  4. Robin Sloan’s popup newsletter (here) lead me to L.M. Sacasas’ substack, called “The Convivial Society” where one post lead to another. I like many of the points he makes. For example, from one post titled “Do you Still Look at the Stars” he writes:

    “We are habituated into a mode of life that doesn’t reward, and actively inhibits, our capacity to see what is there before us. Our gaze is monopolized by our devices, and the demands of efficiency and productivity steal from us the leisure that, as Josef Pieper wrote, is ‘a form of that stillness that is the necessary preparation for accepting reality.’”

    In “AI as Christian Heresy” he writes:

    “AI is apocalyptic in exactly one narrow sense: It is not causing but rather disclosing the end of a world. (…) the manner in which AI is developed, deployed, and marketed reveals the degree to which our modern institutions are failing and expiring.”

    And:

    “Build a techno-social system which demands that humans act like machines and it turns out that machines can eventually be made to displace humans with relative ease.”

    And in a post titled “Waste Your Time, Your Life May Depend On It” he writes:

    “Most importantly perhaps, I think that we should recognize that with all the talk of automated labor and outsourced intelligence we are being distracted from the one element of most profound human consequence—care. Care is what creates the possibility of purposeful action. Care is what issues forth in meaningful knowledge of the world and others. Care is ultimately what transforms the quality of our involvement and engagement with the world so that we pass from ‘getting things done’ to living.”

  5. This week marks a first attempt at sourdough, following a recipe from Hailee Catalano’s book By Heart… The result exceeded my (very low) expectations: the flavour was surprisingly mild and the whole loaf was eaten in the course of 3 days. I’ve taken note of the flaws, and find that The King Arthur Baking Company Big Book of Bread offers a reassuring amount of suggestions for improving sourdough outcomes. What is attractive about Catalano’s method of making starter, compared to King Arthur’s (heh!) is that hers requires only a single feeding every 24 hours, compared to King Arthur’s two. Catalano’s also uses less flour total; 50 grams instead of 75. Learning to make bread from natural leaven is a hobby in itself.

  6. A pretty colour combo from a gifted knitted dish cloth!

Cooking

We enjoyed Hailee Catalano’s “Spinach and Artichoke Ziti” so much that we made it again for a dinner guest. Catalano’s recipes don’t feel like they’re incorporating unusual ingredients for the sake of unusual-ness. Instead, as you’re cooking and eating from her cookbook By Heart, it feels like you’re entrusting yourself to capable hands and good flavours will ensue.

Walking the dog

This week featured warm temperatures, après-storm views, and a bit of rain. The milkweed looks like this:

Everything is very green

Bees are at work

And Enzo can barely stay still.

Happy Sunday!

A week on Sunday 18/52

Intro

A little while ago, in an e-mail to my brother, I declared “The blog helps me to confront, weekly, two struggles: 1) clarifying my thoughts and 2) handling topics that expose opinions I feel vulnerable about.” For the longest time, I thought it was much safer not to have opinions about things and I think that can be felt in the stiffness of earlier writing. Taking a plunge - life is a river in this metaphor - distilling a cup at a time, paddling on; all that is a more vigorous way of living… And so, this week, more reading, more listening, and just a little more opinion.

Finished reading

I’m happy there are so many books on the subject of writing… I can go on in life continuing to find them and take in their little doses of inspiration. Lately I finished a classic; John McPhee’s Draft No. 4. Of the dozen pages bearing a sticky note, I’ll transcribe two quotes that are in fact pieces of advice. The first:

No one will ever write in just the way that you do, or in just the way that anyone else does. Because of this fact, there is no real competition between writers. What appears to be competition is actually nothing more than jealousy and gossip. Writing is a matter strictly of developing oneself. You compete only with yourself. You develop yourself by writing. (p 82)

And the second:

Never market-research your writing. Write on subjects in which you have enough interest on your own to see you through all the stops, starts, hesitations, and other impediments along the way. (p 180)

Podcastland

Part of being a fan of the Freakonomics podcast, with host Stephen Dubner, is admiring how he manages to find not just interesting topics (horses!) but also interesting people. Recently he interviewed Judy Faulkner, shining a light on how a company can be run differently than the maximizing profits model I feel trained to accept as normal. It felt like a refreshing point of view.  

The other, less-fun part of being a fan of a podcast and its host, is accepting that they, like you, are paddling a river and can influence you to like and accept something that later, you realize, wasn’t all that great. A case in point is a recent episode of If Books Could Kill. Titled “Grit”, I was reluctant to listen. Grit is Angela Duckworth’s word for a quality associated with success, and I’d been won over by her voice on Steven Levitt’s People I (Mostly) Admire. But here, Michael Hobbes and Peter Shamshiri were going to apply their show’s tagline: “the airport bestsellers that captured our hearts and ruined our minds”. 

Is it embarrassing to have to revise a previously favourable opinion of something? I used to think so. I used to think that you had to be categorical about things, about people. It’s both harder and more liberating to accept that people are more like fellow travellers than sovereigns; that ideas can be more ephemera than doctrine. 

Collecting

Adding to a previous picture of a bar code I liked, this one, featured on a bag of Pop Corners:

A French audiobook

I liked listening to Veiller sur elle by Jean-Baptiste Andrea. This description of the protagonist’s feat of sculpting a saint, as if he was alive, made me laugh when I heard it:

Il examina le saint François dans mon atelier tandis que Francesco et moi, comme autrefois, attendions  son verdict. J’avais bien travaillé. […] J’avais sculpté François la main levé près de sa joue, un oiseau perché sur l’index. Jusque là, rien d’anormal. Mais l’on devinait par une audace insensé de ma part, que l’aile de l’oiseau avait dû frôler son cou dans la seconde d’avant, le chatouiller, car le saint souriait. On n’avait jamais vu un saint chatouilleux, encore moins souriant, en tout cas, pas en statuaire, où tout les saints arboraient en générale des mines de fonctionnaires divins, harcelés de demandes d’intercession.

In interviews around this book’s winning the Prix Goncourt, (such as here and here) Andrea talks about his love of writing and the priority he gives to a story’s structure. 

A birthday

Enzo, our velvety drapes-for-ears beagle, turned 6 this week, so we gave him some gifts to unwrap.

Baking

Occasionally I’ll get a really specific dessert request, and this week, is was for something simple. Something that didn’t have any hidden “health” to it. No sneaking in some fancy flour, like buckwheat. No fruit and nut-filled batters. I complied and made vanilla cupcakes with chocolate buttercream frosting, thanks to a recipe for both from Smitten Kitchen Every Day. In the quest for interesting flavours and unusual ideas, I sometimes forget that basic can be perfect.

Walking the dog

This week, what caught my eye was texture… more golden grass, more sticks, more curly bark, and hey! Check out the chickadee that landed there!

Sun-drenched texture… from pine tree branches to pussy willows.

And in the forest, where last week we spotted a frog, this week, there was a box.

Do you know what was in the box?

Nothing!

Happy Sunday!