Logicomix

I recently read a graphic novel called Logicomix that applies the theme of the superhero's quest to an alternate form of hero: the classical mathematician Bertrand Russell. While there is some degree of math and logic involved, the primary focus is one man's struggle to walk the line between ardently searching for mathematical (and therefore worldly) truth and not losing his mind like so many of his logician peers. It's an interesting biography, though it includes the small irony of taking some liberties with the historical truth of Russell's while trying to convey his quest for truth. It's also a pretty quick read, so I don't have too much to say without spoiling the story. As for the art, it avoids the manga-izing of many graphic novels, putting it more in the realm of Persepolis in terms of the serious artistic work of the genre.

Also, today I owned the Comcast support person trying to find out why I couldn't connect to the internet by applying principles learned from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm now even more convinced that the universality of that book's practical (if not metaphysical) ideas enables me troubleshoot far better than the average resetter and rebooter. That and k2's 2004 coaching in the ways of the Apple.

Rainbows End

I picked up Rainbows End this weekend so that I could read it on Caltrain commuting to work this week, and I finished it today, Tuesday. And it was a stretch, trying to make it last, by effort of will, not reading it sometimes when I really really wanted to. I had gotten it because finishing Fire Upon the Deep left me with a Vinge shaped hole in my life that I desperately needed to fill. Well the hole is back. I kind of hope I'm sick of his writing by the time I acquire and finish Cookie Monster, or who knows what I'll be forced to do.

Vernor Vinge is definitely my newest author-hero. And it's not because I see echos of his characters in myself; I find most of his characters helplessly single minded and naive actually, and their growth as a result of the numerous plot twists is usually cliche. He is a damn repetitious writer, beating you over the head with his central themes at every opportunity. And yet, every couple pages, there is solid gold. It's usually something a little kid did with his available computing (Vinge would say "automation") interfaces that we can *almost* dream of being real today. And that's why it's so goddamn addictive. I see situations in my own life where, if I was one of his characters, I could immediately have the answers to my idle questions. Was the wind really in my face both directions of my bike ride to and from the Dentist today? I could ask my wearable computer with a few gestures while biking to ping the local weather nodes and compare wind vectors on my path, and display the result on my networked contact lenses. And then there's the times when I actually feel like I'm living in that future. There are lots of queued requests on these shared servers, how many of them are from my team's code? Quick script to curl down a bunch of status pages in parallel, pipe them to grep, cut, sort, uniq: viola!

Vinge's most artfully delivered message in these novels is that the distance between intention and manifestation will shrivel away. It's already happening in the world of the wholly virtual, but step back away from that LCD for a minute and imagine the possibilities. I can't stop seeing them, and it makes me hate keyboards so hard.