Exposition Imposition

The Interim Generation is book three of my Infinity series, and it's getting reviews. Most are good, while others, well, there's this one:

The momentum of the story drew me in fairly quickly. The world building was also handled better than average. Definitely wasn't overburdened with exposition. There were some moments the writing could've been tightened up a little. The author did a good job bringing this dystopian world to life.

What do you think? Should you get a copy of The Interim Generation? The world building is, after all, better than average. And you won't be overburdened with exposition. What more can you ask?

One Great Book

I was looking for something to read yesterday, and nothing seemed to grab my attention. Then I noticed my copy of Less Than Words Can Say by one Richard Mitchell. He is better known, but, sadly, not well enough known, as The Underground Grammarian, under which name he called out poor language from 1976 until 1992. Despite that arguably high-falutin' title, the Underground Grammarian was gold for its insight, humor, and warnings about the power of language.

But I digress. In rereading Less, I rediscovered the irony of insights so incisive as to be laugh out loud. Chastising teachers who decry the need to write well, Mitchell says:

This is, they tell us, an age of technology, and that what we need to know is how to program computers, not how to devise grammatical sentences in orderly sequence. As it happens, computers work by reading and devising grammatical sentences in orderly sequence.

Delightful. I did laugh out loud. Basically, if our computers are to work, our instructions must be grammatically correct, at least in computer language. But can we perform that task if we can't employ good grammar in our own language? 

Mitchell's book dwells on how language is used for control, so he has a special vitriol for bureaucrats and lawyers who seem to make a habit of obscuring language as a means of controlling situations. He further despises letter openers such as "You are hearby informed" and "Our records indicate" and "It has been brought to our attention" calling such things the Divine Imperative, words suggesting God Almighty is addressing you. And you best listen. Words used like that are quite successful in their intimidating tone. We dread them.

Yet the best thing which I've reread so far is a fabulous little sentence Mitchell says early on: Words never fail. If they speak reason, reason is passed forward. If they speak nonsense, confusion reigns. In today's society we tend towards the latter. We say less than we can say.

I am only about halfway through but have already resolved to reread this book at least once a year from here out. The only other books I have at this writing put into that category are The Abolition of Man by C.S. Lewis and Death on a Friday Afternoon by Fr. Richard Neuhaus. We need books like these on our shelves, and I'm sure I'll have more to say about Mitchell in the coming blogs. 

9/23

Well, well, well. It's early Wednesday morning and I have a blog to write. With no other ideas coming to mind, I'll fall back onto This Day in History.

On September 23, 1779 during the American Revolution ('The Troubles' to you Brits) John Paul Jones uttered his famous "I have not yet begun to fight!" in answer to an English demand that he surrender his ship during a naval engagement. 

For you astronomers, on September 23, 1846, the planet Neptune was first spotted.

Mickey Rooney, Julio Iglesias, Ray Charles, and Bruce Springsteen were all born the 23rd.

St. Pio of Pietrelcina, better as Padre Pio, died September 23, 1968. He had the stigmata, the wounds of Christ, on his body. 

Lewis and Clark returned to St. Louis from their exploration of the Louisiana Territory September 23, 1806.

Merkle's Boner, a famous baseball mistake, gave the Chicago Cubs the National League Pennant on this day in 1908. It's one of the most famous plays (or non plays) in the sport's history.

There you have it, friends. September 23 in history!

Gone Bananas

I was lucky enough to see Bananaball in Detroit last weekend. It's baseball played seriously but with added, I'll say, athleticism and sideshow. 

There was a lot going on. I found it difficult to watch the actual baseball game because there was almost always something happening in foul territory or in the stands. I'm going to be the old guy and say there were too many distractions. Arguably, it was too much of a good thing. But it was still fun.

They set a two hour limit on the game (though they do their best to play the traditional nine innings), play music all the time (a good mix of old and new), and bench players weave through the crowd for goodwill. In order to keep pace there are no mound visits, batters must stay in the batter's box, and I won't even try to explain all the other rules. Still, one more: if a spectator catches a foul ball it counts as an out. Cute, but I would not like it as a player.

It was pretty obvious there weren't major league players on the field. Though the competition was decent, it was clearly less than even in the low minor leagues. A-ball games show better true baseball.

Pitches were noticeably slow. At least three throws by my count bounced twice between the third baseman and first on routine grounders, and fly balls hit to the outfield tended towards shallow, although there was one home run and another fly to the warning track. The play in itself did not impress.

Still, for a style intended to engage the audience it was worthwhile. On that level, Bananaball certainly works. I'd go again.

Emergency Not?

Last Tuesday I took a call from a plumber, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who said he needed 4 drain snake cables. "Believe it or not, Cosgriff, my own sewer's plugged, ha, ha!"

"It can happen to any of us, eh, Cloyce? Well, I got plenty, come on by."

"Okay. You gonna be in Friday?"

"Well, yes."

"Great. See you then, Cosgriff." You do you, Cloyce, but when my sewer has backed up, ASAP isn't quick enough to get it open. But, fine, if that suits you.

Friday morning he called back. "Can I get those cables at 4, Cosgriff?"

"Absolutely."

"Cool. See you then"

Cloyce calls at three. "I ain't gonna make it. Can we meet next week?"

"It would have to be Tuesday. I'm not available Monday." 

"Tuesday's good, Cosgriff." 

We'll see if he shows. I'm surprised Mrs. Cloyce isn't on his case. Either way, I don't get it. When there's nasty sewer water on my basement floor, it's gotta go, right now kapow. But, you do you, Cloyce.

Ram Parts

One of the many neat tools you can buy from Electric Eel is a little cylindrical unit called a Kinetic Water Ram. It has a pump with which you can build up air pressure, and a trigger whereby you release it. You stick it over a drain opening, build up the pressure, and wham! A burst of air opens the line. Neat, huh?

But like anything else it requires service from time to time. After a lot of use the washers inside the unit wear so that it won't hold pressure, for example. There's a repair kit available for when this happens.

One day a customer called and explained his trouble and I said he needed that kit. He asked if I'd order it and call him when it arrived. Fair enough; we do that regularly. I told him sure.

When the Ram repair kit came a day or two later I called the guy to let him know it was in. Thanks, he said, but he was by then in the middle of a large plumbing job and couldn't get to my Shop for a couple days. No problem, I replied, we'd hold it for him.

As I hung up the phone I sat and I looked at the kit. O'er the Ram parts we watch, I thought.

Not bad. Not bad at all. To me.

Ready, Set, No.

The 8 foot long drain cleaning cables I sell come in barrels of 20. At just about a pound a foot, that's 160 pounds each. At 66, I appreciate help lifting them into the new old van. Indeed, it's almost a necessity, though I can manage it if I must.

Wednesday last I went to Electric Eel (Electric Eel: for all your drain cleaning needs) and was happy to have me brother Phil along. But I did learn that when you ask a question, it's really important to wait for the answer.

I rolled a barrel up to the side door of the van and leaned it backwards for us to lift. As we each bent down opposite one another and began to take hold of the barrel I asked, "Ready?" and immediately started to lift.

"No," Phil replied. Consequently, I nearly heaved myself into a hernia. Fortunately, my hands just slipped off the barrel, and I was able to regain my balance with one backward step.

Have a question for someone? Wait. For. The. Reply. Your back will appreciate it.