Saturday, August 2, 2008

No Contest: The Case Against Competition

Why We Lose in Our Race to Win
Author: Alfie Kohn
Genre: nonfiction
Publication info: Houghton Mifflin, 1986
Pages: 257 (including notes, bibliography, and index)

I have a problem with some nonfiction books. They tend to change the way I look at everything. Sometimes I call it corruption, but really most of the time I feel like they give me a more educated outlook and a broader perspective.

No Contest is an example of this. (That's partly the reason why I've taken so long to write this review, even though I finished the book a couple weeks ago. I had a hard time figuring out what I wanted to say about it.) A friend at work recommended it to me, I read it, and it permanently altered the way I view many aspects of life. So I guess the book did its job.

The premise of the book is neatly summed up in the tagline on the cover: "Why we lose in our race to win." In short, competition, which is a pervasive and supposedly vital part of our society, is actually inherently destructive and unnecessary. Sounds pretty crazy, doesn't it? Most of us, especially in America, take competition for granted or at least assume that it is a fundamental part of civilization. We need it in our economy, in our recreation, in our education. But do we?

In the first part of the book, Alfie Kohn systematically debunks four major myths surrounding competition: that it is an inevitable part of human nature, that it leads us to be more productive, that it makes things more enjoyable, and that it builds character. He does a pretty good job of it, citing results of actual experiments. Of course, things like this dealing with human behavior is difficult to prove, but his arguments are pretty dang convincing. I especially liked the chapter on sports and games. Once he described a few examples of cooperative games, I became convinced that cooperation is the way to go---it's much more fun!

The part I didn't like so much was his discussion on how to create a more cooperative society. I guess I can't expect one man to have all the answers, but I didn't like how he suddenly turns ironic in a section called "How to Prevent Social Change." As he says, "It is much easier to describe how change can be blocked than how it can be furthered" (189). But why not just be straightforward and tell us what you think we should do? If I were to give the steps he lists but without the ironic tone, they might run something like this:
  1. Expand your vision.
  2. Be firm.
  3. Think about others.
  4. Be optimistic.
  5. Don't rationalize.
To get details on these steps (or their opposites, rather), you'll just have to read the book, but I hope you get the idea. We can create a cooperative society, but the changes have to come from the inside out. That's one thing I'd like to make clear. I'm sure many people would be afraid of the idea of a cooperative society because, on the surface, it sounds an awful lot like socialism. Capitalism, the competition-based market, is considered to be one of America's greatest strengths, and to turn that over to utter equality would be economic heresy. But I'm not talking about government control here. To have the government step in and force everyone to work together on the same level simply does not work, as we have seen many times. The kind of change we need works on an internal, individual basis. Each person should work to remove competitive tendencies from his or her mind and heart, to stop trying to one-up the other person, to lose the notion that our success depends on someone else's failure. Once people start getting into this mindset, then we'll be getting somewhere. We should cooperate with others not because the government or someone else forces us to but because we desire it.

I have many thoughts on this issue, and I hope the few I have described here make sense. Mostly I just think everyone should read this book. I don't take it as absolute truth---there are things I don't necessarily agree with---but the basic principles are good. As my friend told me, competition is not an eternal principle. Competing with others will not bring us the kind of success that really matters. Cooperation, on the other hand, will.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Author: Roald Dahl
Genre: fiction, young adult, fantasy
Publication info: Bantam, 1977 (originally published in 1964)
Pages: 160

Here's another one to add to my "why didn't I read this earlier?" category. It was always there on our bookshelf at home. My mom read it, my sisters read it, but for some reason I never picked it up until now. I can see now that I was missing out.

What prompted me to read this treasure of a book was finally seeing the recent film of the same title, the one starring Johnny Depp. I grew up on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the older musical with Gene Wilder (which I love), so I found the differences between the two movies striking. They told me the newer movie is closer to the book. I wanted to find out for myself.

My verdict: The newer movie probably is truer to the original story, but I read some things that only the older movie contained. Little bits of dialogue, features of the factory---stuff like that. Really, though, I should take the novel as a separate thing. It was a fun little adventure, very creative and very enjoyable to read, even for someone my age. I think it could go down as one of those timeless classics.

I find it interesting to compare the different Willy Wonkas from the book and films. The one from the book seems to be the nicest of the three. He's crazy, but he's also the most approachable. He reassures the group whenever a child gets "lost," something I don't remember the character doing in either movie. Gene Wilder's Wonka is eccentric and rather blunt, and Johnny Depp's portrayal seems almost sinister at times, so the character from the book feels friendly by comparison. The children and their families (except Charlie and Grandpa Joe) are the mean ones in the book. And they get what's coming to them.

One thing I particularly liked about the book was the songs the Oompa-Loompas sing every time a child messes up. There are great lessons to be learned from those. My favorite was the one about television. Not being a fan of TV myself, I thought this was a song that people today could do well to learn:
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, never, NEVER let
Them near your television set---
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
Amen, I say!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Coraline

Author: Neil Gaiman
Genre: fiction, young adult, fantasy
Publication info: HarperCollins, 2002
Pages: 162

Creeeeeeeeepy. That's the best way I know how to describe it. This is my first exposure to the work of Neil Gaiman (author of Stardust), and I must say, the man has a very twisted imagination. It's marketed as a young adult novel, and I suppose it would be a good book to give your children if you want them to come running to you late at night complaining of nightmares. Seriously, I'm glad I read this book in the middle of the day, and I'm a college student.

Coraline is the name of the story's protagonist, a young teenage girl who gets annoyed whenever someone mistakes her name for Caroline. She and her family have just moved into a home comprised of several flats (Gaiman is British, after all). It's summer vacation, and Coraline doesn't know what to do with herself, so she takes up exploring her new home and the grounds surrounding it.

Unfortunately, she finds nothing exciting until she comes across a locked door inside the house. Her mother assures her there is nothing to see behind the door---even shows her the wall that was put up there---but Coraline's tremendous curiosity leads her to look again when her parents are away. This time there is no wall, and beyond the door Coraline discovers a strange place indeed: a replica of the home she left behind, complete with "other parents"! At first it seems wonderful. Her other parents pay more attention to her, and she seems to have everything she wants. But Coralline quickly senses something sinister going on. And once she realizes that, her life is far from easy.

I liked this book because, for one thing, it engaged me. Young adult novels have a way of doing that. Once I got started, it was hard to put down. I've discovered that I usually enjoy unconventional fantasy. I'm not so much into the "sword and sorcery" stuff, but I like it when the author creates a truly unique world, such as in this book and also Everlost. My guess is this novel was based on a bad dream. The whole thing certainly feels like one.

My only complaint about the book is that there were a few places where Gaiman threw in things that seemed to serve no purpose other than to add to the creepiness of the story (I don't want to give too much away, but one example involved an abnormally large spider). They certainly did the trick---I shuddered several times---but I wonder how necessary they were. Maybe we can justify it by saying that the villain was deliberately trying to scare Coraline (again, I don't want to give too much away).

In all, though, I thought it was a heck of an enjoyable book. I'd recommend it to anybody. It's not just a kids' book. In fact, maybe I wouldn't recommend it to kids. If you'd like to give it a try, be warned: you may want to read it in broad daylight. And be sure to stay away from black buttons.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Egri csillagok (Eclipse of the Crescent Moon)

Author: Gárdonyi Géza
Genre: historical fiction
Publication info: Puedlo Kiadó (my Hungarian edition; originally published in 1899)
Pages: 392

There's a reason why I haven't posted anything for over a month. You might gather why by taking a look at the title. I spent my reading efforts for the past few weeks on a Hungarian novel. I don't know if you have had any exposure to Hungarian, but it's not an easy language. I had thought I had it pretty well figured out, but this book proved me wrong. That's why it took me so long.

I bought this book while I was serving as a missionary in Hungary. I spent two years learning the language of that beautiful country, and by the end of those two years, I felt more or less fluent. I probably should have read this book right when I got home, but for one reason or another I waited until now. It proved to be a real challenge, especially with the vocabulary. I didn't learn a lot of sixteenth-century military terms while I was in Hungary.

The novel is a dramatization of the 1520 Siege of Eger, in which the Hungarians stave off an Ottoman invasion even when all the odds are against them. It mainly traces the life of Bornemissza Gergely, who ends up being a commander at Eger in the last part of the book. He seems at home in command of a portion of the castle's defense, but the Turks have a little surprise for him that makes him more involved than he would like to be.

Since I didn't really understand a good fraction of what I read, I can't give a good review of it, but I found it very interesting. It gave me a taste of the Hungarian spirit, which is something only a native Hungarian could fully understand. They were determined to defend that castle at all costs. And they did it for their country. I was amazed at how they kept at it. Although I didn't understand a lot of the battle, I did get the impression that the Turkish force was overwhelming and by all means should have won. But the Hungarians held out. It is a point of pride in Hungarian history.

I'm also in no position to criticize the book, but I will say that I found the first part of the story a little repetitive. Some people get captured by the Turks, they escape, they get captured again, they escape again . . . It wasn't as exciting the third time around. But maybe that's just how it happened. This is a historical novel, after all.

I recommend this book to anyone interested in Hungary and its history. It's especially good if you know the language, but if not, an English translation is available under the title Eclipse of the Crescent Moon. I think a literal translation of the title would have been better (Stars of Eger), but there's not much I can do about it. Maybe I could use that title when I do my own translation of the book. Someday.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The Two Princesses of Bamarre

Author: Gail Carson Levine
Genre: fiction, young adult, fantasy
Publication info: HarperCollins, 2001
Pages: 241


This one may seem a little out of place among the other books I've reviewed so far, especially considering who I am: a twenty-something male college student. Throw into the mix the fact that I like to do much of my reading while I'm riding a stationary bike at the gym. Imagine, if you will, a tall young man striding into the weight room, dressed in gym clothes, a towel draped over his neck, with a water bottle in one hand and The Two Princesses of Bamarre in the other. Yeah. I had fun with this one.

In my defense, I picked this one up at my girlfriend's recommendation. I also had had some exposure to Levine's work before. In high school it seemed like all of my friends who were girls named Ella Enchanted as their favorite book, so I borrowed it from my sister and read it to see what the deal was. More recently, Levine came to my university for a science fiction and fantasy convention and read some of her latest work. I enjoyed both experiences, so I felt like I knew what I was getting into with this book.

And like Ella Enchanted, for the type of book that this is, it is pretty good. As you might guess, it tells the tale of two princesses in a place called Bamarre. Meryl, the older of the two, is the outgoing, adventurous type, always looking forward to the day when she can go on a quest and fight the monsters that constantly threaten their kingdom. Addie is her complete opposite---timid, introverted, and desiring only to live a safe and secure life. But when the mysterious and fatal illness called the Gray Death strikes, it's up to Addie to find the cure to save her sister and, incidentally, all of Bamarre.

It's a fun little story, but I have to admit it is rather predictable. From the first few pages I had a pretty good idea how the whole thing was going to play out. To Levine's credit, the author does a good job of preparing you so nothing seems to come out of nowhere, but maybe she's just a little too good at foreshadowing. On the other hand, the ending brings an unexpected twist.

I also had a problem with her sparseness of description. Now I myself am a fan of minimal description. The detail found in The Lord of the Rings is a little too much for me. Let the reader imagine as much as possible, I say. But in this book I didn't know how to imagine some things because the author doesn't describe them at all. As a reader not well versed in fantasy, I had only Shrek as an image of an ogre, which probably isn't what Levine had in mind. But she never really describes the monster. This isn't a huge hindrance to the story, but it might have been a little more alive to me had there been just a bit more description.

Still, I stand by what I said before: It's a fun little story. A nice escape from the humdrum of everyday life. And wouldn't some of those gifts Addie receives be nice? I would love to have a pair of those seven-league boots.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Three Men in a Boat, to Say Nothing of the Dog

Author: Jerome K. Jerome
Genre: nonfiction (?), travel
Publication info: Time Incorporated, 1964 (originally published in 1889)
Pages: 211

Well, now I know where Connie Willis got a lot of her ideas. I picked up this book because of the many references to it in her To Say Nothing of the Dog (not the least of which is the title). The two books have a very similar tone; I can tell that this was a great inspiration for Willis.

The premise is very simple: Three men with a severe case of hypochondria decide that a boating trip up the Thames would do them good. So they rent out a boat and take their fourteen-day journey, of course bringing their dog, Montmorency, with them. The narrator describes in wonderful ironic wit all the troubles they come across on their journey, and all along the way he inserts little anecdotes that somehow relate to the present action.

It's a silly book, all in all---and I loved it. There isn't much of a plot, but it was very entertaining. What I think I liked most about it was the voice of the narrator. He is a fine example of the unreliable narrator with his subtle sarcasm and hypocrisy. For instance, at one point he talks about the fun of getting in the way of steam launches that think they own the river; a few chapters later, he complains about the ignorant boats that are in the way of the steam launch that is towing them. And he loves work---watching it, that is.

I recommend this to anyone looking for some fun, light reading, or to anyone looking for an escape. What better way to escape than taking a trip up the Thames? And even though it was written well over a hundred years ago, its humor can still be appreciated today.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Author: Connie Willis
Genre: fiction, sf
Publication info: Bantam Books, 1998
Pages: 493

I loved this book. Connie Willis has not disappointed me yet. My first encounter with her work was several years ago when I read Doomsday Book. I don't know why it took me so long to come back to her because I loved that one as well. The two books actually take place in the same universe, so to speak, but whereas Doomsday Book has a more or less serious theme, To Say Nothing of the Dog is lighthearted most of the way through.

And not just lighthearted. It's downright hilarious. Imagine P. G. Wodehouse writing science fiction, and this book is what you get. Rarely does a book make me laugh out loud, but this one did many, many times. The narrator's dry and witty voice, the quirky characters, the very human-like animals---they all combined to make one heck of a funny story. I also really liked the "summaries" at the beginning of every chapter.

The premise is a little hard to explain, mainly because it is based on the most complex idea of time travel I have ever heard of in science fiction. Willis really has thought it through, which is nice, but it's also a little confusing because sometimes the plot turns on a concept I don't entirely understand (incongruities and slippage, for example). But I enjoyed the story so much that I trusted her and kept going.

Basically, a historian from 2057 named Ned Henry is on the hunt for something called the bishop's bird stump. He has to travel back to 1940 to find out what became of it. But trouble arises when another historian, Verity Kindle, brings through time a cat from 1888. Now Ned has to go back to Victorian England and together with Verity prevent history from changing---because it's amazing what difference a single cat can make.

Most of the action takes place in the Victorian Period, and Willis does a great job portraying that era, not to mention subtly making fun of it. Her style makes the book a lot of fun to read. She seems to know England very well, even though she herself is American.

What more can I say? I loved this book, and I highly recommend it anyone---even to those not terribly interested in science fiction. It's the story that makes it. The story makes it great.