Category: Books

I read this as a hard line Calvinist reformed Baptist.
It was too squishy to be memorable.
Decades later, I’m a squishy atheist open to all the wisdom traditions.

I now see why this book is a classic.
It presents a most charming version of this religion.

His all-or-nothing argument for the divinity of Jesus was unconvincing.
But otherwise, the book was illuminating.
His use of analogies is masterful.
He clearly explains esoteric concepts of the Christian cosmology in simple terms.

The original essays were BBC Radio lectures given during World War Two.
In publication, he preserved the informal manner of the broadcasts, and listening to it as an audiobook brought it back to life.

It was wonderful to listen to C. S. Lewis craft the English language at his highest levels.
Highly recommended, even though I have no interest in becoming a Christian.

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With an active war abroad and political tensions at home, the world and nation is no longer a coherent hegemony.
This book feels more at home in the 20’s than than in the 90’s.

It wasn’t enough to make me curious about practicing Christianity.
But enough to consider re-reading the Chronicles of Narnia, which I did not enjoy as a child.
I wonder what I might find as an adult and a father, knowing the author is a veteran of World War One.

How can a first (and last) time author write so beautifully?

A lifetime of thinking.
About life and death.

And doing.
Masters in English Lit.
Then becoming a Doctor, Neurosurgeon.

The book is a powerful, emotional memoir.
A reminder that our days are not guaranteed.
Easy living won’t last forever.

And the dying.
What brutally high cost for living.

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This weekend, Jonathan Tjarks, a 34 year-old basketball reporter, passed away from cancer after writing this beautiful, haunting essay in March.
And Risk Parity Radio posted an episode about dying.

The media gods clearly want me to examine mortality, which has never been a big concern before.
Let’s see where this goes.

Grain Elevators are tall trucks
 that let the road
approach them

I’ve always been a prose guy.
(More Pentateuch than Psalms.)

But I’ve always held the nag that I need to get into poetry (along with Jazz and Russian novels).

This is as good a start as any.

Short poems.
Straight to the point.
Haikus + Americana.

I’ve tried writing some myself, when I started this blog.

I bought this book around that time.
But buying and reading are different things.
So here I am, a decade later.

Not sure if I grok poetry any better.
That will be a matter of trying.
Again and again.

Reflected upsidedown
 in the sunset lake, pines,
Pointing to infinity

As for this book itself.
Jack successfully taps into the vividness of Haiku.

It’s a snapshot of mid-century America.
Unfortunately it’s also a snapshot of Jack’s unraveling.

I need to revisit this book in a few months.
Maybe I’ll better enjoy the art when I’ve become inured to his sad story.

Desk cluttered
 with mail—
My mind is quiet

At the turn of the century, there was a fad of cheeky comic books covering non-fiction subjects.

This one uses a gimmick of the Caterpillar teaching Alice in Wonderland.
This conceit works surprisingly well for a broad overview of Indian and East Asian thought.

It is awkward to read such books as an advanced beginner.
I’m not a bewildered neophyte, the intended audience.
But I don’t know enough to judge the veracity of the work.

However, it turned out to be a great moment to read this book.

It’s tough to jump into a new subject.
A pure beginner confronts too much information all at once.
But every book embeds a bias, especially the basic ones.
With a little familiarity, you can better converse with the author.
So a student should (re)visit an introductory text after some study.

I used this tactic when learning to bake bread.
After reading every baking book at the library, I could discern implicit instructions.
So I could mine the most basic cookbooks for their unwritten assumptions.

The hard part is humbling myself to open an beginner’s book.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t picked up a cookbook in years.

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The graphics in this book haven’t aged well, but that wasn’t the point. These books were designed to be appetizing at the time of publication. Given the extent of the series, I’d say they worked.

I got this book at the Spring Valley Friends of the Library bookstore along with several volumes. This is the first that I’ve read. I should get onto the rest of them.

A mathematician tackles this topsy-turvy religious philosophy.

It’s a collection of 47 short essays that predate the blog-post book fad by three decades.

Smullyan plays with multiple voices, draws from Chinese poets, and utilizes his training as a logician.

His bemused detachment won’t convince a skeptic, but if you’re already digging Taoism then you’ll enjoy this book.

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The book brings back memories of summer, visiting my cousin for two weeks, where I came across Smullyan’s Alice in Puzzleland at the Whittier Library.

I should revisit this book to for a deeper dive, but I want to play jump into other subjects first.

Can you choose your religion?

If you could, these two books would be a good start.

God is Not One is a survey of eight world religions, their beliefs, practices, and varieties.
Every religion asks different questions and finds divergent answers.
For some, belief is not important, even if orthodoxy is primary in yours.
Aspects of these religions might resonate, but each of them are distinct endeavors with varied goals and methods.

How to Live a Good Life is a collection of essays by practitioners.
The essays proselytize a little, but given the collection’s liberal bent these are a soft sells.
The book offers a multitude of voices, but leave you to complete the comparison.

The two pair well.
A survey coupled with individual perspectives from the inside.

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But I’m not sure you can choose your religion.
Maybe you can modulate your level of devotion, but can you choose its object?

“Give me a child till he is seven and I will show you the man.”
After listening to these books, I’ve realized my roots are in Christianity, Confucianism, and Taoism.
My parents are Christian, but our heritage is Chinese.
They might have converted, but they couldn’t escape their milieu.
Me too.

I don’t believe in the literal claims of the Bible, but I spent my first twenty years in the good book.
The prophets and the apostles molded my worldview.

I came across Lao Tzu in my thirties, and only recently read Confucius.
I didn’t expect to appreciate the stuffy Confucius or wacky Taoists.
But unlike other philosophies (such as Epicurus) their writings just fit, like finding the perfect pair of sneakers.
I see unwritten aspects of my upbringing with these dusty tomes.

What next?
Drill deeper.

Maybe I’ll find a way to read the Bible that elides its cosmology.
Or study moral order for this fragmented age.
Shall I meditate around philosophical conundrums?

Or maybe it will be something else altogether.
Unplanned and predetermined.

Last year, my friend recommended the book when it was still available online.

It was engrossing and depressing.

Dalio uses monetary policy to diagnose what ails our country — decay and dissention within, decadence and coasting upon the gains of the past.

It’s good to be a citizen of the empire, but the throne is never comfortable. It doesn’t help that China is rising as our internal polarization threatens to tear us apart.

I’m not an economist nor a historian, so it’s hard to judge these claims. There are plenty of counternarratives predicting an impending Chinese economic collapse with demographic decline.

Either way, Ray Dalio spins a plausible narrative, but he doesn’t help with the hard part. What should an individual do in this market? After reading the book, I looked him up on youtube. All he says is that beating the market is really hard. It all leaves you in a swamp of doom, without much hope.

If he’s right, then we’re due for another round of painful renewal. The best scenario is to restart the cycle, and wish for the best for our kids.

The other scenario? Get ready to hit the road again.

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After my investing kick over the past few months, I’ve soured on Dalio. His predictions might be right or wrong, but it would only be coincidental to his analysis, which is thinner than it appears.

Ultimately he’s a salesman for his business. Doom and gloom will always sell.

I don’t regret skimming the book, but I can’t recommend it.

A business self help book that is unashamedly both. As a businessman, Christensen starts with incentives and culture.

He splits incentives into motivation and hygiene factors. Hygiene (fair pay, good team) are the basics that allows you to avoid disliking your job. Motivations are the warm fuzzies that turn your work into a passion.

He starts with corporate culture to discuss family culture. I generally despise the work = family equivalence, but he frames it well to present a fresh perspective on the matter. I need to ponder how incentive factors affect our family culture.

Following his thesis from the Innovator’s Dilemma, his key refrain is that the little things beneath our notice are what will determine our future.

The time and resources that you devote today, at this moment, prove your real priorities. Repeated execution of these priorities create your life.

His final chapter is a warning to stick to one’s standards. A small compromise in the moment may be a clever marginal play, but the full cost might be realized after one’s course has been steered in an ill direction.

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I listened to it at 1.5x speed. It’s another classic pull yourself up by the bootstraps self help book, this time from a business consultant’s perspective. I haven’t felt the need to listen to it again, but I should watch his TEDx talk.

The Wisdom of Solomon might be a fine devotional for a believer. It’s chock full of paeans to wisdom defined as the faithful adherence to God,

But there’s nothing else.

As a former Christian, I view the religion from both the inside and the outside. My parents still practice, but my house is very much non-devout.

Growing up, Bible stories felt as real as other historical stories. But try explaining Bible stories to someone who wasn’t indoctrinated from birth. Last Christmas, I told the gospel story to my daughter. It was fantastical. I’m certain she’ll have a similar look on her face if I ever recount Greek myths.

This is my one regret from forsaking religion. I wonder if my kids will miss out on the allusions buried throughout western literature. For that alone, it may be worth an extensive study of the classics, including the Bible — but don’t start here.

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I fully endorse the exclusion of this book from the Protestant canon. I started focused but only skimmed the second half while watching the kids jump on their bed.

After stumbling across the gem of the Havamal last year, I printed out the wisdom literature in the Apocrypha. After this read, the other books have remained untouched.