There’s this strange phenomenon when it comes to the act of reading books. I mean modern society places a high value on reading: when we talk about books, it’s a sign of intellect, of value, of something worthwhile. And when someone claims that he or she has written a book, we give that person respect. Perhaps this is why many people whose careers doesn’t revolve around writing come out with books of their own: celebrities, politicians, doctors, athletes, etc. By coming out with a book of their own, it’s like saying to the whole world “Hey! I’m smart too!” Getting published is like the cherry on top of an already-impressive resume and adds validation to their success. But as much as we value book reading, how many actually takes the time to do so?
While I’m a voracious reader of books, it would be foolish of me to assume that everyone else is like me. Contrary to popular belief, I think our world is full of readers; just not the type that reads novels. Magazines, video games, comics, blogs, web pages... there’s a proliferation of reading material and people do read these stuff. When you hand them a book though, you can hear them sighing inwardly, and the air stirs with the unasked question: how many pages does it have? Novels, in their big, thick format, have a way of intimidating people. Some people find it an accomplishment if they read a book in a year (and one that’s not required reading, either for school or for work), even if it takes you less than a few days to finish reading one.
Despite its lack of readership, we nonetheless value book reading. I mean how many best-seller lists have we seen, and we may not like the author of the book but we’re nonetheless impressed by their accomplishment. One question we also fail to ask ourselves is if book X is on the best-seller list, why haven’t we read it? Or worse, it’s on our bookshelves, we just haven’t made the time to read it. We talk about book X to our friends, and they claim that they bought the book as well. Have they read it? Yes. Have they finished reading the novel? No. They stopped at this page and that (ranging from single digits to halfway of the book). There’s even the phenomenon of movie-adaptation novels. Just look at Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. I’m not talking about spoilers, but people who watch these movies usually buy the books they were based on. Why? I’m not really sure. Some actually attempt to read the books they bought. Others simply use it as a conversation piece, so that they can say that they have the books. But honestly, these people would prefer to watch the movie (and there’s nothing wrong with that). As an acquaintance of mine said, why bother reading the book when you can watch it on the big screen? Just don’t be pretentious about it.
On the other side of things, since we don’t take the time to read the books we judge, the release of a book isn’t as big as we make it out to be. Sure, you’ve come out with a book. It doesn’t mean you’re intellectual, you’re a gifted writer, or whatever other connotations you want to attach to it. First and foremost, the ability to get published isn’t a matter of skill, but a function of money. If I were a wealthy person, who’s to stop me from publishing my own book? The printer certainly won’t stop me, it’s business for them (especially if you pay on time). My PR would be happy as well for the reasons I stated above. My critics would be against it, but hey, they’re my critics. As for book reviewers, anyone can do a book review; I’ll just label them as critics. Bookstores won’t mind as long as I either pay for shelf space, or actually sell well (good PR substitutes as well). That’s not to say independent publishers are vanity publishers (“I print because I want to stroke my own ego.”), but when someone comes out with a book, I try to think what’s their agenda. And agendas vary; some want to pursue a literary intent (which may or may not be a good thing), some for propaganda purposes, others simply to entertain, to earn, to teach. Each has a different intent and it would be erroneous for us to conclude one general statement for all of them.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Friday, November 18, 2005
[Essay] Points of View
I find it strange at how people will generally tell you that there are several sides to every story, yet when faced with a particular encounter, will seek only one and follow that interpretation as if it were the gospel. It could be something you were taught in school, a statement a friend said, or perhaps your own personal belief. As a writer and a moral human being, I try to view everything in as many perspectives as I can. The quest for truth, after all, will constantly be elusive, and I am far from wise to discern which is true and which is deceitful. Perhaps the best I can hope for is to gather as much information as I can, and make the appropriate judgment.
There are various reasons for having different points of view. Some simply result from a misunderstanding, while others end with much malice involved. Yet people in my experience, more often than not, assume the latter, or when they discover it’s the former, refuse to reconcile. But that’s part of the human experience I guess.
I honestly love giving gifts. I love seeing people happy. Unfortunately, not all gifts are truly gifts: some are tributes, bribes, or even Trojan horses. I once gave a gift to someone I was acquainted with, but didn’t know well enough. On my side of the story, the gift was born of true affection, seeking nothing in return. It was a gesture, a selfish gesture perhaps, but a sincere one nonetheless. I didn’t know any better back then, but the recipient eventually became mad at me. From her point of view, I wasn’t giving a gift. It could have been a bribe to get into her good graces, a show of wealth, or something else entirely. Both of us had good and honorable intentions, yet it ended badly. Was I to blame, or perhaps her? Some of you might say it’s the latter’s fault, that her own paranoia caused the rift. That’s an easy conclusion to say, but who knows what her history was? Perhaps she was betrayed in the past, or had a similar experience: that’s not to justify her actions, mind you, but give them a basis. Some of the best intentions, after all, end badly. That’s true in this case. It reminds me of a commercial by the bank HSBC: two executives, one Asian, one Western, were having dinner at a ramen shop. The latter was trying to impress the former, so he finished his bowl of noodles, since it was rude to leave food on your plate. For the former though, emptying your bowl meant that one had not eaten enough, and that the host lacked generosity Not to be outdone, the Asian host requested more food, while the Western executive continued to eat and eat, not wanting to upset the other party. Obviously conflict arose, but it was not something intentional, but merely because both parties had differing perspectives, and they weren’t aware of it.
Striking something closer to home, I often hear the Filipino phrase hindi ko na problema ‘yon (“that’s not my problem”). I hear it in the workplace, with the people I talk to, and sometimes even my friends. Most people, I think, want to live in a specialized world, where all they need to focus on is their tiny but specific duty. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t work that way. For employees like me, we have bosses, and people above us in the hierarchy ladder (or simply people who’s tasks are entwined with ours, but we have no control over). For employers, there are several factors governing them, from economic variables, their target market, the government, and perhaps even rivals. Now when someone approaches me to do something, they want immediate results. I want immediate results as well, but some tasks assigned to me is beyond my power. It could be waiting for my boss to approve something, or waiting for a coworker to do this and that task. When I give my reasons to the other party, they don’t want excuses. They utter the all-too familiar phrase. Yet when the tables are reversed, they blame their bosses, their coworkers, the government, virtually everyone else. Now I’m understanding and I know when you can’t bleed blood out of stone. But other people are not as considerate. My coworker was recently requesting a permit from a certain company. Now I was tasked with talking to the other party, and much like Murphy’s Law in action, the other side didn’t have the permit ready yet. They said that everything was done, and that they were just waiting for their boss to sign the form. Now I understand that situation, and I’ve faced it myself often. So did my coworker. Yet when I relayed that message to my coworker, she was infuriated, again stating the familiar phrase. She’s experienced such a situation herself, yet expect others to climb out of a hole she herself can’t escape. The problem I have with the statement “that’s not my problem” is that it lacks empathy; we make a separation between us and the other person, when in truth we actually share a lot of things in common. It’s separating our problems from theirs, when in actuality, they’re interconnected. Does conflict arise in such a situation? Yes. The perspectives are actually the same; we just refuse to acknowledge that the other side’s excuse is as valid as ours. Your problem is my problem; that’s why I’m so affected by it. I know it’s out of your hands, yet I blame you nonetheless. And that is perhaps the root cause of this problem: we want someone to blame other than ourselves. When people complain about the government, not solving do they ask themselves what they would do if they were in the politician’s place? Sometimes the solutions we come up with are no better than those of our scapegoats.
Ever been in the middle of a conflict between friends? They’d tell differing accounts, each one portraying the other to be the villain. For example, I have this friend who had a quarrel with his girlfriend (let’s call him Friend A). I also have this friend who’s a friend of the girlfriend (let’s call her Friend B). Now Friend A and Friend B will tell identical accounts… up to a certain point. From that point on, it’s either Friend A that’s the villain, or the girlfriend that was in error. Obviously, Friend A and Friend B were telling the truth up to a certain point. After that, some lies and confusion have been mixed in. Now there are several causes for that. I’m sure some of you have experienced exaggerating a story, and have it grow in the telling. The original story might involve ten people, then when passed on it becomes twenty people, then thirty, until it reaches a thousand. The more people it passes through, the greater the inconsistency. Or it could be something intentional, people blinding themselves and others to the whole story. In high school, I got into this fight with one of my classmates during PE class. He hit me in the nose, giving me a nosebleed. When the teacher asked me what happened, I told him my classmate hit me in the nose because I constantly kept blocking him in the basketball game. Which was true. What I didn’t tell my teacher was that my classmate goes so infuriated with me constantly blocking him that he elbowed me in the stomach, causing me great pain. In retaliation, I spat at his face, and he retaliated in return with the punch. Would my omission have changed who was wrong? Perhaps not, but it’s an important piece in the gigantic puzzle of human conflict. My case probably would have been less sympathetic had I mentioned it, yet I deluded myself that it didn’t matter. I didn’t plan on omitting that part yet when it came to the situation of attaching blame, yet I did. It’s not something I’m proud of, yet people twist their narratives in small but integral ways: it could be omitting some events, or a small lie. Friend A, for example, after a series of reasons for breaking up, mentioned that his girlfriend cheated once on him. Yet when I talked tot Friend B, it was the reverse: it wasn’t the girlfriend that cheated but Friend A. Of course that wasn’t the only reason for the conflict (many reasons were stated) but it could be that one fact that swings your opinion of the person. Truth mixed with lies, sometimes intentional, sometimes delusional; digging into the heart of the matter is more difficult to ponder than an outright lie, and is perhaps one of the easiest things to assuage our conscience, even if we were the ones at fault.
In grade school, two people who bullied me were friends (let’s call them Bully A and Bully B). Now in order to start fights, Bully A would tell lies to their target. “Person X said this about you,” Bully A would say, while Bully B would confirm that statement. That way, my classmates would get into fights that wouldn’t have started. Or if the person refused to be intimidated by the insult, either Bully A or would Be would chide the person to fight and keep pressing him on the whole day. “He said this and that about you, you’ll just let that pass?” was something they’d say. Now both Bully A and Bully B were in the business of spreading lies. The thing I found funny and ironic is that when Bully A told lies to Bully B, the latter didn’t realize it, despite having known Bully A for quite some time. One quarrel Bully A wanted was between me and Bully B, so he told Bully B that I insulted him, despite not doing so. Of course Bully B believed him, and we started to quarrel despite me constantly denying what Bully A said. Now that’s simply malice. It’s not a fact that was twisted to their own purpose, but sheer spite. The statement had no basis, yet it was believed. Both sides have entirely different accounts, and obviously, one of them is lying. But who do people believe? I mean Bully B knew Bully A’s track record of lies and deceit yet it was him who he believed, not me. Just goes to show that people don’t always believe what’s rational, but what they want to believe. Just look at people’s opinions. Supporters of FPJ believe that president GMA poisoned him. Local conspiracy theorists believe that as well, along with the other crimes of GMA. More level-headed people attribute GMA to graft and corruption, but not outright assassination, at least that of FPJ.
So you have these four scenarios for conflict, each with differing perspectives. Which one is the correct one, and how do we find out who’s telling the truth. A conclusion some people might come up with is that we go with the vote of the majority. I mean surely there were a lot of witnesses to verify the truth, hence the majority of believers of which side was right.. But that’s not an accurate measure of what really happened. Many people believe rumors, and they aren’t always true. A majority vote only proves how effective your propaganda is, not whether you’re truly innocent or not. I mean in the scenario of me giving gifts, the only people who’ll know my side of the story is if they ask me, and what if I’m an unpopular guy? Or worse, people take the other person’s story at face value. So it merely ends up as a race of who tells the story first. Or in the case of Friend A and Friend B, it becomes a popularity contest: who knows the most friends? So the real story, again, becomes elusive, and we’re left with these multiple views. What’s the use of having multiple perspectives if you can’t discern which is right? (Some would even settle for merely knowing which is wrong.)
There are telltale signs though. In the case of Bully A, Bully B, and me, it comes down to character. While it doesn’t always work (since some people do become repentant of their ways, and just because you’re a liar doesn’t meet you always lie), integrity can lead us to who’s right and who’s wrong. Bully B, after all, knows Bully A’s personality. I’m surprised he didn’t doubt Bully A’s word. It’s like the reverse of the Boy Who Cried Wolf: believe the liar. Of course such tactics are less clear. In the case of Friend A and Friend B for example, who’s the liar there? If you didn’t know them very well, it’s hard to tell. But I was very familiar with both of them, and it’s not the first time that Friend A had a case of manipulated truth: stories which were identical to the other side, except with a few details altered. Of course I could be wrong and he might have been innocent this time, but one’s previous actions are the only thing I have going for me. Others need more investigation, whether comparing other accounts, or digging up more information. Did president GMA poison FPJ? An autopsy report would solve that. And at times, there’s no real conflict to be resolved: we just want to attach blame. It’s like blaming an employee for the faults of his or her employer, even if the employee is powerless to change the company’s policies.
People often think that their point of view is the best one. I, however, think there’s a certain flaw in that kind of reasoning. How can we come to a valid conclusion if we’re so self-centered? Do we know what the poverty-stricken feel by remaining in our ivory towers? Do we find the answers to our questions without doing research, but solve it through sheer cognitive will? The best way is perhaps to view it from another person’s point of view, and understand their motivations. We’ll still come up with our own conclusions, but it’s a theory based on the experience of others, and not just ours.
There are various reasons for having different points of view. Some simply result from a misunderstanding, while others end with much malice involved. Yet people in my experience, more often than not, assume the latter, or when they discover it’s the former, refuse to reconcile. But that’s part of the human experience I guess.
I honestly love giving gifts. I love seeing people happy. Unfortunately, not all gifts are truly gifts: some are tributes, bribes, or even Trojan horses. I once gave a gift to someone I was acquainted with, but didn’t know well enough. On my side of the story, the gift was born of true affection, seeking nothing in return. It was a gesture, a selfish gesture perhaps, but a sincere one nonetheless. I didn’t know any better back then, but the recipient eventually became mad at me. From her point of view, I wasn’t giving a gift. It could have been a bribe to get into her good graces, a show of wealth, or something else entirely. Both of us had good and honorable intentions, yet it ended badly. Was I to blame, or perhaps her? Some of you might say it’s the latter’s fault, that her own paranoia caused the rift. That’s an easy conclusion to say, but who knows what her history was? Perhaps she was betrayed in the past, or had a similar experience: that’s not to justify her actions, mind you, but give them a basis. Some of the best intentions, after all, end badly. That’s true in this case. It reminds me of a commercial by the bank HSBC: two executives, one Asian, one Western, were having dinner at a ramen shop. The latter was trying to impress the former, so he finished his bowl of noodles, since it was rude to leave food on your plate. For the former though, emptying your bowl meant that one had not eaten enough, and that the host lacked generosity Not to be outdone, the Asian host requested more food, while the Western executive continued to eat and eat, not wanting to upset the other party. Obviously conflict arose, but it was not something intentional, but merely because both parties had differing perspectives, and they weren’t aware of it.
Striking something closer to home, I often hear the Filipino phrase hindi ko na problema ‘yon (“that’s not my problem”). I hear it in the workplace, with the people I talk to, and sometimes even my friends. Most people, I think, want to live in a specialized world, where all they need to focus on is their tiny but specific duty. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t work that way. For employees like me, we have bosses, and people above us in the hierarchy ladder (or simply people who’s tasks are entwined with ours, but we have no control over). For employers, there are several factors governing them, from economic variables, their target market, the government, and perhaps even rivals. Now when someone approaches me to do something, they want immediate results. I want immediate results as well, but some tasks assigned to me is beyond my power. It could be waiting for my boss to approve something, or waiting for a coworker to do this and that task. When I give my reasons to the other party, they don’t want excuses. They utter the all-too familiar phrase. Yet when the tables are reversed, they blame their bosses, their coworkers, the government, virtually everyone else. Now I’m understanding and I know when you can’t bleed blood out of stone. But other people are not as considerate. My coworker was recently requesting a permit from a certain company. Now I was tasked with talking to the other party, and much like Murphy’s Law in action, the other side didn’t have the permit ready yet. They said that everything was done, and that they were just waiting for their boss to sign the form. Now I understand that situation, and I’ve faced it myself often. So did my coworker. Yet when I relayed that message to my coworker, she was infuriated, again stating the familiar phrase. She’s experienced such a situation herself, yet expect others to climb out of a hole she herself can’t escape. The problem I have with the statement “that’s not my problem” is that it lacks empathy; we make a separation between us and the other person, when in truth we actually share a lot of things in common. It’s separating our problems from theirs, when in actuality, they’re interconnected. Does conflict arise in such a situation? Yes. The perspectives are actually the same; we just refuse to acknowledge that the other side’s excuse is as valid as ours. Your problem is my problem; that’s why I’m so affected by it. I know it’s out of your hands, yet I blame you nonetheless. And that is perhaps the root cause of this problem: we want someone to blame other than ourselves. When people complain about the government, not solving do they ask themselves what they would do if they were in the politician’s place? Sometimes the solutions we come up with are no better than those of our scapegoats.
Ever been in the middle of a conflict between friends? They’d tell differing accounts, each one portraying the other to be the villain. For example, I have this friend who had a quarrel with his girlfriend (let’s call him Friend A). I also have this friend who’s a friend of the girlfriend (let’s call her Friend B). Now Friend A and Friend B will tell identical accounts… up to a certain point. From that point on, it’s either Friend A that’s the villain, or the girlfriend that was in error. Obviously, Friend A and Friend B were telling the truth up to a certain point. After that, some lies and confusion have been mixed in. Now there are several causes for that. I’m sure some of you have experienced exaggerating a story, and have it grow in the telling. The original story might involve ten people, then when passed on it becomes twenty people, then thirty, until it reaches a thousand. The more people it passes through, the greater the inconsistency. Or it could be something intentional, people blinding themselves and others to the whole story. In high school, I got into this fight with one of my classmates during PE class. He hit me in the nose, giving me a nosebleed. When the teacher asked me what happened, I told him my classmate hit me in the nose because I constantly kept blocking him in the basketball game. Which was true. What I didn’t tell my teacher was that my classmate goes so infuriated with me constantly blocking him that he elbowed me in the stomach, causing me great pain. In retaliation, I spat at his face, and he retaliated in return with the punch. Would my omission have changed who was wrong? Perhaps not, but it’s an important piece in the gigantic puzzle of human conflict. My case probably would have been less sympathetic had I mentioned it, yet I deluded myself that it didn’t matter. I didn’t plan on omitting that part yet when it came to the situation of attaching blame, yet I did. It’s not something I’m proud of, yet people twist their narratives in small but integral ways: it could be omitting some events, or a small lie. Friend A, for example, after a series of reasons for breaking up, mentioned that his girlfriend cheated once on him. Yet when I talked tot Friend B, it was the reverse: it wasn’t the girlfriend that cheated but Friend A. Of course that wasn’t the only reason for the conflict (many reasons were stated) but it could be that one fact that swings your opinion of the person. Truth mixed with lies, sometimes intentional, sometimes delusional; digging into the heart of the matter is more difficult to ponder than an outright lie, and is perhaps one of the easiest things to assuage our conscience, even if we were the ones at fault.
In grade school, two people who bullied me were friends (let’s call them Bully A and Bully B). Now in order to start fights, Bully A would tell lies to their target. “Person X said this about you,” Bully A would say, while Bully B would confirm that statement. That way, my classmates would get into fights that wouldn’t have started. Or if the person refused to be intimidated by the insult, either Bully A or would Be would chide the person to fight and keep pressing him on the whole day. “He said this and that about you, you’ll just let that pass?” was something they’d say. Now both Bully A and Bully B were in the business of spreading lies. The thing I found funny and ironic is that when Bully A told lies to Bully B, the latter didn’t realize it, despite having known Bully A for quite some time. One quarrel Bully A wanted was between me and Bully B, so he told Bully B that I insulted him, despite not doing so. Of course Bully B believed him, and we started to quarrel despite me constantly denying what Bully A said. Now that’s simply malice. It’s not a fact that was twisted to their own purpose, but sheer spite. The statement had no basis, yet it was believed. Both sides have entirely different accounts, and obviously, one of them is lying. But who do people believe? I mean Bully B knew Bully A’s track record of lies and deceit yet it was him who he believed, not me. Just goes to show that people don’t always believe what’s rational, but what they want to believe. Just look at people’s opinions. Supporters of FPJ believe that president GMA poisoned him. Local conspiracy theorists believe that as well, along with the other crimes of GMA. More level-headed people attribute GMA to graft and corruption, but not outright assassination, at least that of FPJ.
So you have these four scenarios for conflict, each with differing perspectives. Which one is the correct one, and how do we find out who’s telling the truth. A conclusion some people might come up with is that we go with the vote of the majority. I mean surely there were a lot of witnesses to verify the truth, hence the majority of believers of which side was right.. But that’s not an accurate measure of what really happened. Many people believe rumors, and they aren’t always true. A majority vote only proves how effective your propaganda is, not whether you’re truly innocent or not. I mean in the scenario of me giving gifts, the only people who’ll know my side of the story is if they ask me, and what if I’m an unpopular guy? Or worse, people take the other person’s story at face value. So it merely ends up as a race of who tells the story first. Or in the case of Friend A and Friend B, it becomes a popularity contest: who knows the most friends? So the real story, again, becomes elusive, and we’re left with these multiple views. What’s the use of having multiple perspectives if you can’t discern which is right? (Some would even settle for merely knowing which is wrong.)
There are telltale signs though. In the case of Bully A, Bully B, and me, it comes down to character. While it doesn’t always work (since some people do become repentant of their ways, and just because you’re a liar doesn’t meet you always lie), integrity can lead us to who’s right and who’s wrong. Bully B, after all, knows Bully A’s personality. I’m surprised he didn’t doubt Bully A’s word. It’s like the reverse of the Boy Who Cried Wolf: believe the liar. Of course such tactics are less clear. In the case of Friend A and Friend B for example, who’s the liar there? If you didn’t know them very well, it’s hard to tell. But I was very familiar with both of them, and it’s not the first time that Friend A had a case of manipulated truth: stories which were identical to the other side, except with a few details altered. Of course I could be wrong and he might have been innocent this time, but one’s previous actions are the only thing I have going for me. Others need more investigation, whether comparing other accounts, or digging up more information. Did president GMA poison FPJ? An autopsy report would solve that. And at times, there’s no real conflict to be resolved: we just want to attach blame. It’s like blaming an employee for the faults of his or her employer, even if the employee is powerless to change the company’s policies.
People often think that their point of view is the best one. I, however, think there’s a certain flaw in that kind of reasoning. How can we come to a valid conclusion if we’re so self-centered? Do we know what the poverty-stricken feel by remaining in our ivory towers? Do we find the answers to our questions without doing research, but solve it through sheer cognitive will? The best way is perhaps to view it from another person’s point of view, and understand their motivations. We’ll still come up with our own conclusions, but it’s a theory based on the experience of others, and not just ours.
Friday, November 11, 2005
[Essay] Since When Did I Become An Optimist?
You know the person who’s present at public gatherings, yet does nothing but sulk in a corner? And when you attempt a conversation, you sense the lack of enthusiasm, and the person seems to be more concerned about his or her own personal problems rather than the topic at hand? Perhaps it’s so emotionally painful to talk to such a person because you feel your spirit seep out of you, as if the he or she was slowly leeching at your life. While sycophants prey on the popularity of others, this one does the reverse: no matter how humble you are or how optimistic you’re feeling, you simply get drained.
Not so long ago, I was one of these people. When people speak of auras, mine was several meters long. Whenever I’d see people, depression would kick in because of the loneliness I felt. This, in turn, would drive other people away, causing me more grief. Thus it was a self-perpetuating cycle, an ouroboros of self-pity. Any rational person would see how illogical this behavior was, yet emotion never subscribed to reason.
What I noticed during this time is that, well, negative emotions are contagious. When you feel sad, other people can’t help but feel sad as well, unless they distance themselves from you. As much as other people determine who we are, we also determine who we are, and how other people treat us. If you want to be treated with pity, then feel pitiful for yourself. Perhaps a tactic some beggars use in this poverty-stricken country of ours is to look and feel sorry for themselves, as if fate has been cruel to them and all that’s left are the scraps the benevolent are willing to give. With such an attitude, you can’t help but feel sorry for them (being the “benevolent” person that you are), and they in turn won’t change their lifestyle short of divine intervention.
Of course it’s also strange to see a happy, well-off man in constant company of such a pessimistic fellow. The old adage birds of the same feather flock together ring true more than opposites attract, despite what soap operas on TV might profess. Perhaps a better example would be who do you go to when you want to mad or angry at someone? Do you hang out with optimistic people, who might make your concerns seem trivial, or unjustified? Or would you rather be with similarly angst-filled men and women who can relate with your rage, and provide input of their own? Angry people in the company of other angry people make a very angry crowd.
This basic concept is what makes mob rule prevalent. You have angry people, agitated people, and apathetic men and women. In a span of a few minutes and after some bolstering on the part of the angry people, the entire group soon becomes, well, a mob. Even the apathetic ones are rallied into the cause of the wrathful, because emotions are contagious.
Yet what’s sad is that the opposite is not always true. While people do congregate to bolster themselves in positive ways, have you ever had a scenario where someone you now fared significantly better than you? It could be a relative, a good friend, or an acquaintance. While we feel happy for them, a tiny spark in us feels selfish. It’s called jealousy. We ask ourselves why it didn’t happen to us, especially if it’s a peer we’re more or less familiar with. Celebrities, politicians, and heroes are someone we elevate ahead of us. When a local athlete wins an international competition, we feel happy for him. When a friend becomes that athlete and gains the acclaim of our fellow friends, it might be fair to say that we feel both happiness and jealousy. The problem with the latter is that if we repress it too much, it spreads like a malignant poison. It’s not evident at first but later on, happiness makes way for jealousy. We become spiteful of the positive emotions around us; in other words, we become a cynic.
But jealousy is not the only emotion that keeps us apart. Do you have friends whom you can’t really relate to? I mean one girl I know is full of bubbly cheer. She always smiles, is often positive, and speaks in a high, perky voice. While acquainting with her is fine, the moment I rant, it’s simply brushed off by all her enthusiasm. And what I mean by brushed off, you explain your case yet you don’t get the reaction you expect. Human beings really want yes-men as their companions. Or at least someone who can relate to your struggles, even if they won’t always agree with your opinions. In my previously mentioned scenario, she completely circumvents that because our emotional thresholds are too far apart (she’s too far on the positive side, while I’m too far on the negative). So expectations can also keep people apart, in the long term if not in the short term.
So where does that leave us? Are human beings destined to live our the rest of their existence lonely and full of negative cheer? One fact many people forget is free will. As much as external factors can affect how we feel, we can also choose what to feel. Now some people might point out that emotion isn’t something we control: if someone scratches you, you feel pain. It’s not a choice of whether you feel pain or not. Well, let me clarify. Emotion probably has two levels: an immediate effect and a lasting effect. If a mosquito bites you, the first sensation you feel is pain. That’s what I call the immediate effect. You feel the pain. What happens next is the lasting effect, and is perhaps what we can control. I mean one common reaction we can do is bitch about the insect bite, and talk about it all day. How it ruins our skin, how it makes our arm itch, how it was unlucky of us. That, however, is merely one perspective we can take. Other people can move on, and simply view it as a daily fact. That’s a more neutrally-centered emotion. Or some people can even see it as a blessing, that they’re still capable of feeling and staying in touch with the world (and a rare few will probably be happy that they were able to feed an insect). Now those three emotions are something we can control. Granted, our “default” emotion might be different (the first time I get bitten, my instinct might be to rant about it), but we can always alter our perspectives. I mean I still get bitten by mosquitoes, but instead of complaining about it all day, I usually do something more practical, such as swatting it or rubbing my skin with alcohol (mosquito-repellants aren’t really for me). Did I feel pain when I was bitten? Slightly. Did I let it affect my whole day? No. Which goes to show how self-control, and perhaps optimism can carry you to another level.
But wait, what does that have to do with our topic? Well, as much as negative emotions are contagious, a strong will can negate the pessimistic feelings other people are exuding. Just because I’m with a grumpy old man doesn’t mean I have to be grumpy too. Granted, that’s not always the case. Even the most stalwart of human beings might give in to mob rule or peer pressure, given the proper circumstance. In such a case, what’s there left to do? The answer is to simply avoid such situations. I mean if you’re prone to drunkenness, don’t go to a bar, even if you tell yourself at the start you won’t drink. Or in the case of short-tempered friends and you want to keep your cool, don’t hang around with them too much (note that I said too much… ostracizing friends isn’t exactly the best recommendation you know).
As for my aura of despair and depression, well, I do follow my own advice. Which is probably why there’s always a hint of hope in whatever I write. As far as emotions go though, be wary of them. Because they’re infectious, and you’re not just affecting yourself, but other people as well.
Not so long ago, I was one of these people. When people speak of auras, mine was several meters long. Whenever I’d see people, depression would kick in because of the loneliness I felt. This, in turn, would drive other people away, causing me more grief. Thus it was a self-perpetuating cycle, an ouroboros of self-pity. Any rational person would see how illogical this behavior was, yet emotion never subscribed to reason.
What I noticed during this time is that, well, negative emotions are contagious. When you feel sad, other people can’t help but feel sad as well, unless they distance themselves from you. As much as other people determine who we are, we also determine who we are, and how other people treat us. If you want to be treated with pity, then feel pitiful for yourself. Perhaps a tactic some beggars use in this poverty-stricken country of ours is to look and feel sorry for themselves, as if fate has been cruel to them and all that’s left are the scraps the benevolent are willing to give. With such an attitude, you can’t help but feel sorry for them (being the “benevolent” person that you are), and they in turn won’t change their lifestyle short of divine intervention.
Of course it’s also strange to see a happy, well-off man in constant company of such a pessimistic fellow. The old adage birds of the same feather flock together ring true more than opposites attract, despite what soap operas on TV might profess. Perhaps a better example would be who do you go to when you want to mad or angry at someone? Do you hang out with optimistic people, who might make your concerns seem trivial, or unjustified? Or would you rather be with similarly angst-filled men and women who can relate with your rage, and provide input of their own? Angry people in the company of other angry people make a very angry crowd.
This basic concept is what makes mob rule prevalent. You have angry people, agitated people, and apathetic men and women. In a span of a few minutes and after some bolstering on the part of the angry people, the entire group soon becomes, well, a mob. Even the apathetic ones are rallied into the cause of the wrathful, because emotions are contagious.
Yet what’s sad is that the opposite is not always true. While people do congregate to bolster themselves in positive ways, have you ever had a scenario where someone you now fared significantly better than you? It could be a relative, a good friend, or an acquaintance. While we feel happy for them, a tiny spark in us feels selfish. It’s called jealousy. We ask ourselves why it didn’t happen to us, especially if it’s a peer we’re more or less familiar with. Celebrities, politicians, and heroes are someone we elevate ahead of us. When a local athlete wins an international competition, we feel happy for him. When a friend becomes that athlete and gains the acclaim of our fellow friends, it might be fair to say that we feel both happiness and jealousy. The problem with the latter is that if we repress it too much, it spreads like a malignant poison. It’s not evident at first but later on, happiness makes way for jealousy. We become spiteful of the positive emotions around us; in other words, we become a cynic.
But jealousy is not the only emotion that keeps us apart. Do you have friends whom you can’t really relate to? I mean one girl I know is full of bubbly cheer. She always smiles, is often positive, and speaks in a high, perky voice. While acquainting with her is fine, the moment I rant, it’s simply brushed off by all her enthusiasm. And what I mean by brushed off, you explain your case yet you don’t get the reaction you expect. Human beings really want yes-men as their companions. Or at least someone who can relate to your struggles, even if they won’t always agree with your opinions. In my previously mentioned scenario, she completely circumvents that because our emotional thresholds are too far apart (she’s too far on the positive side, while I’m too far on the negative). So expectations can also keep people apart, in the long term if not in the short term.
So where does that leave us? Are human beings destined to live our the rest of their existence lonely and full of negative cheer? One fact many people forget is free will. As much as external factors can affect how we feel, we can also choose what to feel. Now some people might point out that emotion isn’t something we control: if someone scratches you, you feel pain. It’s not a choice of whether you feel pain or not. Well, let me clarify. Emotion probably has two levels: an immediate effect and a lasting effect. If a mosquito bites you, the first sensation you feel is pain. That’s what I call the immediate effect. You feel the pain. What happens next is the lasting effect, and is perhaps what we can control. I mean one common reaction we can do is bitch about the insect bite, and talk about it all day. How it ruins our skin, how it makes our arm itch, how it was unlucky of us. That, however, is merely one perspective we can take. Other people can move on, and simply view it as a daily fact. That’s a more neutrally-centered emotion. Or some people can even see it as a blessing, that they’re still capable of feeling and staying in touch with the world (and a rare few will probably be happy that they were able to feed an insect). Now those three emotions are something we can control. Granted, our “default” emotion might be different (the first time I get bitten, my instinct might be to rant about it), but we can always alter our perspectives. I mean I still get bitten by mosquitoes, but instead of complaining about it all day, I usually do something more practical, such as swatting it or rubbing my skin with alcohol (mosquito-repellants aren’t really for me). Did I feel pain when I was bitten? Slightly. Did I let it affect my whole day? No. Which goes to show how self-control, and perhaps optimism can carry you to another level.
But wait, what does that have to do with our topic? Well, as much as negative emotions are contagious, a strong will can negate the pessimistic feelings other people are exuding. Just because I’m with a grumpy old man doesn’t mean I have to be grumpy too. Granted, that’s not always the case. Even the most stalwart of human beings might give in to mob rule or peer pressure, given the proper circumstance. In such a case, what’s there left to do? The answer is to simply avoid such situations. I mean if you’re prone to drunkenness, don’t go to a bar, even if you tell yourself at the start you won’t drink. Or in the case of short-tempered friends and you want to keep your cool, don’t hang around with them too much (note that I said too much… ostracizing friends isn’t exactly the best recommendation you know).
As for my aura of despair and depression, well, I do follow my own advice. Which is probably why there’s always a hint of hope in whatever I write. As far as emotions go though, be wary of them. Because they’re infectious, and you’re not just affecting yourself, but other people as well.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
On The Chronicles of Narnia
Weta workshop seems to be racking in the epics as they made the costume and set design for Peter Jackson’s epic movie Lord of the Rings and now The Chronicles of Narnia, which is based on C.S. Lewis’s highly successful children’s book series. Of course it’s worth noting that J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis lived in the same milieu, and the two are actually good friends.
Personally, the Narnia books strike me as something controversial. I’m not a big fan of Tolkien, and I’m even much less a fan of C.S. Lewis. Philip Pullman, a young adult writer, dislikes Lewis, and his best-selling, award winning His Dark Materials trilogy is actually a reaction to The Chronicles of Narnia. As for his opinions on the yet-unreleased movie, he has several complaints on the subject matter. Some scoff his arguments as petty jealousy, resentment, or a publicity stunt to boost the sales of his own books. Does his arguments have merit?
The problem with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and its sequels deal with values. Many works of fantasy draw as inspiration various myths. In the case of Lewis’s successful work (along with his science-fiction and philosophy writings), his basis was Christianity. Now the initial reaction of many would say that’s a good thing. Closer inspection though and actual reading of The Chronicles of Narnia would reveal that Lewis was a product of his time, and shares a more conservative stance on religion. Now I don’t have a problem with the pilot book (and most well-known in the series) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I do with the others. In one of the later books, for example, it’s revealed that one of the characters is deemed as less than savory simply because she adopts a tomboyish (i.e. wears pants) lifestyle. Pullman does have basis for his arguments, but just because there is proof does not mean the argument ends.
An issue with literature is its struggle to keep up with the times. Classics have stopped being classics simply because they’re now viewed as unacceptable, such as a book referring to African Americans as niggers is now labeled as racism. The Chronicles of Narnia comes under similar scrutiny. One camp in general defends these books that some might consider outdated, stating that they are nonetheless classics and merely reflect their era. Others, on the other hand, are less forgiving, and deem that such books should stop being required reading for their children. Both sides have good points, although in the end, it’s up to the individual to decide what is appropriate and what is inappropriate. On my side, do I really want children to be influenced by the conservative views Lewis had? (Lewis considered teaching women a waste of his time, for example.) Yet the literati in me shudders at the thought of a body of work sentenced to extinction simply because it was deemed “inappropriate”.
Narnia is also a controversial issue for me because it contains the seeds for both acceptance and denial of the fantasy genre in Christianity. The genre of fantasy, unfortunately, is discouraged by the church, more so among the Protestant folk. This, of course, is not without basis. Fantasy novels and short stories usually contain magical elements and unfortunately, the Bible considers any form of sorcery as tools of the devil. This isn’t helped by the way media has sensationalized various fantasy icons, whether it’s Dungeons & Dragons, video games, and certain RPGs. So is it a sin to read a fantasy book? No. But one side of the church states that there are those prone to such weaknesses, whether it’s juxtaposing fiction with non-fiction (which is one of their fears when it comes to The Da Vinci Code), or taking it too seriously. Again, the question we must ask is whether such fears are justified. Well, in a certain way, yes. I mean in any group, there will always be someone who will harness it for the wrong ends. A knife, for example, has many uses, from cooking to carving to a useful tool in general. There’ll always be a chance though that someone will use the knife to stab someone. That’s the same fear the church has with fantasy books, except you know, you don’t ban knives from people just because there’s a possibility that they might harm other people (or in the case of children, themselves) using it.
Now I’m not saying the banning of fantasy books is a cardinal rule. It’s a gray area at best, and some people take extreme lengths, while others possess more tolerant views. Some people consider the Harry Potter books inappropriate even without reading it (or taking the word of their priests/pastors), while others have a more liberal view. Still, don’t be surprised at the vehement condemnation of a practitioner at something like Harry Potter. I’m just surprised that they haven’t focused on the biggest fish of them all, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which is the father of modern adult fantasy. (Perhaps Tolkien’s association with Lewis had something to do with it. Which brings me to my next point.)
The exception, of course, is The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and the rest of the books in the series, mainly due to its Christianity-based lore. Never mind the fact that the protagonists uses magic as well, even if it’s for the side of “good” (as if fantasy novels never portrayed heroes using magic for the good of all). The church’s tolerance of The Chronicles of Narnia is something of a double standard. I mean on one hand, they’re proclaiming that fantasy is a gray area. On the other hand, they’re giving The Chronicles of Narnia their full support, and is actually one of the few works of fiction that I see on the shelves of Christian bookstores.
Of course it’s interesting to note that while Christian belief and the church in general has evolved over the years (despite what some of them might deny), the values The Chronicles of Narnia teaches hasn’t, simply because it’s a text set in stone. There’ll be new interpretations of it, but the fact that it does possess ethnocentrism, for example, can never be invalidated. I find it ironic that the church is opting for tolerance of humanity (i.e. forgiveness of sins, caring for your neighbor, etc.) in general, yet one of the books that they promote breeds intolerance. Of course Narnia will appeal to the more conservative practitioners of Christianity, especially with Lewis’s rather zealous stance.
On a more optimistic side, Christianity has broken its own rule by accepting The Chronicles of Narnia as part of their doctrine. In supporting The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, it is also inadvertently supporting the very genre it has rallied against. Which gives hope for the fantasy genre to perhaps gain more acceptance in the future.
Personally, the Narnia books strike me as something controversial. I’m not a big fan of Tolkien, and I’m even much less a fan of C.S. Lewis. Philip Pullman, a young adult writer, dislikes Lewis, and his best-selling, award winning His Dark Materials trilogy is actually a reaction to The Chronicles of Narnia. As for his opinions on the yet-unreleased movie, he has several complaints on the subject matter. Some scoff his arguments as petty jealousy, resentment, or a publicity stunt to boost the sales of his own books. Does his arguments have merit?
The problem with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and its sequels deal with values. Many works of fantasy draw as inspiration various myths. In the case of Lewis’s successful work (along with his science-fiction and philosophy writings), his basis was Christianity. Now the initial reaction of many would say that’s a good thing. Closer inspection though and actual reading of The Chronicles of Narnia would reveal that Lewis was a product of his time, and shares a more conservative stance on religion. Now I don’t have a problem with the pilot book (and most well-known in the series) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I do with the others. In one of the later books, for example, it’s revealed that one of the characters is deemed as less than savory simply because she adopts a tomboyish (i.e. wears pants) lifestyle. Pullman does have basis for his arguments, but just because there is proof does not mean the argument ends.
An issue with literature is its struggle to keep up with the times. Classics have stopped being classics simply because they’re now viewed as unacceptable, such as a book referring to African Americans as niggers is now labeled as racism. The Chronicles of Narnia comes under similar scrutiny. One camp in general defends these books that some might consider outdated, stating that they are nonetheless classics and merely reflect their era. Others, on the other hand, are less forgiving, and deem that such books should stop being required reading for their children. Both sides have good points, although in the end, it’s up to the individual to decide what is appropriate and what is inappropriate. On my side, do I really want children to be influenced by the conservative views Lewis had? (Lewis considered teaching women a waste of his time, for example.) Yet the literati in me shudders at the thought of a body of work sentenced to extinction simply because it was deemed “inappropriate”.
Narnia is also a controversial issue for me because it contains the seeds for both acceptance and denial of the fantasy genre in Christianity. The genre of fantasy, unfortunately, is discouraged by the church, more so among the Protestant folk. This, of course, is not without basis. Fantasy novels and short stories usually contain magical elements and unfortunately, the Bible considers any form of sorcery as tools of the devil. This isn’t helped by the way media has sensationalized various fantasy icons, whether it’s Dungeons & Dragons, video games, and certain RPGs. So is it a sin to read a fantasy book? No. But one side of the church states that there are those prone to such weaknesses, whether it’s juxtaposing fiction with non-fiction (which is one of their fears when it comes to The Da Vinci Code), or taking it too seriously. Again, the question we must ask is whether such fears are justified. Well, in a certain way, yes. I mean in any group, there will always be someone who will harness it for the wrong ends. A knife, for example, has many uses, from cooking to carving to a useful tool in general. There’ll always be a chance though that someone will use the knife to stab someone. That’s the same fear the church has with fantasy books, except you know, you don’t ban knives from people just because there’s a possibility that they might harm other people (or in the case of children, themselves) using it.
Now I’m not saying the banning of fantasy books is a cardinal rule. It’s a gray area at best, and some people take extreme lengths, while others possess more tolerant views. Some people consider the Harry Potter books inappropriate even without reading it (or taking the word of their priests/pastors), while others have a more liberal view. Still, don’t be surprised at the vehement condemnation of a practitioner at something like Harry Potter. I’m just surprised that they haven’t focused on the biggest fish of them all, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which is the father of modern adult fantasy. (Perhaps Tolkien’s association with Lewis had something to do with it. Which brings me to my next point.)
The exception, of course, is The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and the rest of the books in the series, mainly due to its Christianity-based lore. Never mind the fact that the protagonists uses magic as well, even if it’s for the side of “good” (as if fantasy novels never portrayed heroes using magic for the good of all). The church’s tolerance of The Chronicles of Narnia is something of a double standard. I mean on one hand, they’re proclaiming that fantasy is a gray area. On the other hand, they’re giving The Chronicles of Narnia their full support, and is actually one of the few works of fiction that I see on the shelves of Christian bookstores.
Of course it’s interesting to note that while Christian belief and the church in general has evolved over the years (despite what some of them might deny), the values The Chronicles of Narnia teaches hasn’t, simply because it’s a text set in stone. There’ll be new interpretations of it, but the fact that it does possess ethnocentrism, for example, can never be invalidated. I find it ironic that the church is opting for tolerance of humanity (i.e. forgiveness of sins, caring for your neighbor, etc.) in general, yet one of the books that they promote breeds intolerance. Of course Narnia will appeal to the more conservative practitioners of Christianity, especially with Lewis’s rather zealous stance.
On a more optimistic side, Christianity has broken its own rule by accepting The Chronicles of Narnia as part of their doctrine. In supporting The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, it is also inadvertently supporting the very genre it has rallied against. Which gives hope for the fantasy genre to perhaps gain more acceptance in the future.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
[Essay] Born A Sadist
On the news today, the radio commentator was narrating at how firemen unleashed a torrent of water on a prayer vigil that was suspected to be a rally. The commentator was vehement at the fireman, whom he noticed was taking pleasure in hosing down several people in addition to a senator and a priest. He recommended that the fireman be given a psychological analysis, since he was gleeful in his act of violence towards other people, as if this were an unnatural thing.
While I’m not a supporter of violence, to deny that it’s a part of us is folly. We have several positive emotions, but we also have negative ones: sadness, depression, despair, greed, hate, and yes, the need to inflict injury on another creature.
I’ve witnessed that a number of people, when angered, lash out at something. Sometimes, it’s merely a verbal insult or shout. At other times, it’s something more physical, from throwing objects at another person to hitting the wall with their fists. In such a scenario, people give in to their primal nature. And that nature involves violence.
There’s a certain pleasure we receive from inflicting pain, whether it’s on another human being or on other creatures. Why is revenge so appealing to many? To anyone who’s harmed us or our loved ones, we don’t want to simply jail them. We want them to suffer, whether it’s ripping them apart limb from limb, cutting out their innards, or torturing them by pulling out their fingernails and sticking needles in them. Those who dislike certain animals take pleasure in their suffering as well, whether it’s watching ants burn as you focus a magnifying glass on them, or hearing the scrunch of cockroaches as you firmly step on them, twisting your feet to make sure they die.
I’m not saying this is necessarily a good thing, but it is a part of us. People can’t help it any more than they can be greedy, or selfish, or lazy. We can control such emotions, but we can never expunge it from our system, short of creating a villainous doppelganger of ourselves ala Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Some people find release in other ways, whether it’s the rhythm of cutting up a butchered pig, striking at boxing bags and inflatable dummies, or playing games from Street Fighter to Paintball.
In the case of the fireman in the incident, perhaps it was his way of lashing out. I mean a senator was there, and wasn’t she a representative of the government? The same government that’s impotent in helping the country rise from poverty, the same government that perpetuates many injustices? And there was a priest. The church seems to be meddling in everything, yet to no avail, or worse, are hypocrites. I’m not saying these motives are justified, merely that many people succumb to this kind of reasoning. Even my driver, far from a saint, has a prejudice against cops of any kind, honking his horn whenever he sees one, the noise he generates his form of retaliation.
But despite all the horrible things our violent nature is capable of causing, I find it ironic that instead of facing this reality, many people turn away from it. It could be censorship, closing one’s eyes to the realities in life, or simple denial. In a way, it’s like a cancer patient ignoring the fact that he has cancer. Instead of finding a cure, we pretend that everything’s all right and that everything in the world is okay. It’s not. And if it was, I’d be the first person to panic. The thing to fear most is not a man that is violent, but a man who appears to have no vicious tendencies whatsoever. Either he’s not human, he’s lobotomized, or hiding his skeletons in a very dark and deep closet.
While I’m not a supporter of violence, to deny that it’s a part of us is folly. We have several positive emotions, but we also have negative ones: sadness, depression, despair, greed, hate, and yes, the need to inflict injury on another creature.
I’ve witnessed that a number of people, when angered, lash out at something. Sometimes, it’s merely a verbal insult or shout. At other times, it’s something more physical, from throwing objects at another person to hitting the wall with their fists. In such a scenario, people give in to their primal nature. And that nature involves violence.
There’s a certain pleasure we receive from inflicting pain, whether it’s on another human being or on other creatures. Why is revenge so appealing to many? To anyone who’s harmed us or our loved ones, we don’t want to simply jail them. We want them to suffer, whether it’s ripping them apart limb from limb, cutting out their innards, or torturing them by pulling out their fingernails and sticking needles in them. Those who dislike certain animals take pleasure in their suffering as well, whether it’s watching ants burn as you focus a magnifying glass on them, or hearing the scrunch of cockroaches as you firmly step on them, twisting your feet to make sure they die.
I’m not saying this is necessarily a good thing, but it is a part of us. People can’t help it any more than they can be greedy, or selfish, or lazy. We can control such emotions, but we can never expunge it from our system, short of creating a villainous doppelganger of ourselves ala Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Some people find release in other ways, whether it’s the rhythm of cutting up a butchered pig, striking at boxing bags and inflatable dummies, or playing games from Street Fighter to Paintball.
In the case of the fireman in the incident, perhaps it was his way of lashing out. I mean a senator was there, and wasn’t she a representative of the government? The same government that’s impotent in helping the country rise from poverty, the same government that perpetuates many injustices? And there was a priest. The church seems to be meddling in everything, yet to no avail, or worse, are hypocrites. I’m not saying these motives are justified, merely that many people succumb to this kind of reasoning. Even my driver, far from a saint, has a prejudice against cops of any kind, honking his horn whenever he sees one, the noise he generates his form of retaliation.
But despite all the horrible things our violent nature is capable of causing, I find it ironic that instead of facing this reality, many people turn away from it. It could be censorship, closing one’s eyes to the realities in life, or simple denial. In a way, it’s like a cancer patient ignoring the fact that he has cancer. Instead of finding a cure, we pretend that everything’s all right and that everything in the world is okay. It’s not. And if it was, I’d be the first person to panic. The thing to fear most is not a man that is violent, but a man who appears to have no vicious tendencies whatsoever. Either he’s not human, he’s lobotomized, or hiding his skeletons in a very dark and deep closet.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
[Essay] Love, Courage, and other Virtues
Why do people exalt virtues? Is it because in reality, such qualities are scarce? We give merit to concepts like love and courage, as if by default, men and women were born selfish and cowardly. Yet who hasn’t fallen in love, or felt a surge of fearlessness in his or her life? Even the foulest villains, or the people we despise most, have at one point in time experienced these emotions. Arguably, some even dare to perform their dastardly actions because of these very traits. So let me ask you, what separates true love from falling in love, true bravery from mere boldness?
Virtues, I believe, are the product of a conscious choice. The rest are simply emotions. Yet people confuse the two, equating emotions with virtues. We claim we’re in love with someone when we get that giddy feeling inside. Once the flame’s gone, we’re tempted to break off the relationship. When we face a great challenge in life, be it from a physical, mental, or spiritual source, one of our initial reactions is fear. Some people will say to themselves that they’re not brave or courageous, simply because of the emotion they’re feeling.
To subscribe to such a belief undermines one of the benefits of human existence: free will. If we were merely creatures who acted upon our emotions, then humanity would be reduced to a science, a field of study in which behavior is determined by the laws of causality. A ball, for example, has no free will. It goes where we lead it, and follows the direction of the force exerted upon it. The same goes for objects. Animals, to a certain extent, follow the same rules. They are creatures that obey instinct and feeling, and it is for this reason that animals are trainable. If they were so free from their desires, then the reward-and-punishment system of training wouldn’t be so effective. Yet animals have more will compared to objects. Some animals, for example, are not trainable, and there will always be that small part of trained animals that remains unpredictable, or will break the norm. If we simply followed every urge we felt, then I dare say that animals are more human than us because even they don’t always give in to impulse.
Another reason why conscious choice is important is because of the element of difficulty. In a war, we expect well-trained soldiers to lay their lives in battle. However, we do not have the same expectations for civilians, people who do not have the proper training. The former are conditioned to face combat so many times that when they hear shots being fired, there is still fear, but it is quickly suppressed because of prior experience. The latter, on the other hand, might panic when they hear a warning shot. So in face of danger, which do you think is more likely to enter the fray of battle? The former, but if the latter does it, some perceive it as a form of heroism, because it simply was more difficult for the latter.
Or to put it in another way, which do you think will make more of a sacrifice if they are asked to lay down their life in order to save several people? A suicidal man who has nothing to live for, or a family man who has a family and friends he loves? The value of virtue is not always whether you do it or how often you do it, but what it costs you to do it. A person who enters the fray of battle and does not fear for his life is well and good. It would be more difficult though for someone who felt fear, and had to conquer his weakness. I’m not disputing that the former was brave, but the latter exhibited more courage, not because he was immune to fear, but because he felt it and acted despite that feeling.
A question you might ask is what use is all of this to me? So I’ve differentiated virtue from emotion, so what? It’s been my experience that people use emotion as an excuse not to do what they’re supposed to do, or utilize it as a license to do what one shouldn’t. For example, many so-called writers claim that they only write when inspiration strikes them. If that were the case, then everyone would be writers. I mean who wouldn’t write if they were inspired? But the reality is that a lot of writers write, no matter what they’re feeling. I approve of inspiration. Many masterpieces are borne out of epiphanies. Yet a lot of classics were born not out of divine providence but sheer hard work. I guess that’s one benefit of pursuing a career in a field you love, be it drawing, writing, or any other craft: you’re forced to do it no matter what you’re feeling. I mean in school, when my teacher asks me to submit a term paper, I don’t use the excuse “I’ll write it when I’m inspired”. If you must do it with inspiration, then there are techniques to find inspiration, whether it’s research, or letting yourself be engulfed by new experiences. Another example is divorce. While there are many good reasons to file a divorce, some terminate the relationship because they don’t feel anything anymore. While I’m not married, I know that love is far from mere emotion. Why do I love my parents, and why do they love me? I stopped being cute and cuddly when I turned four. And my parents are far from the most amiable of people, at least to me. Yet we love each other nonetheless, through good times and bad times. It’s not a feeling, it’s a commitment. People are surprised when parents abandon their child, or when children leave their parents. It just goes to show that relationships are a choice. We may not choose who our parents are, but we can always choose to leave them. Or not. And while our parents might feel duty-bound to take care of us, they honestly don’t have to, and there will inevitably be a time when they must let go and allow their children to fend for themselves. Why not sooner, right?
Virtues are about choices. Emotions might influence how we make our choices, but in the end, it’s our free will that determine that paths we take. Sometimes, it’s good to give in to emotions. When you’ve been burned by touching a hot stove, you’d be a fool not to move your hand away. It’s also due to emotions that artists are able to create their most magnificent works, allowing their experiences to affect their creations. But there will always be times when we must resist our initial drives, when we must conquer our passions. If I ran from every experience that brought fear or discouragement, then I would never grow. If I succumbed to my fear of drowning, then I would never have learned to swim. If I gave in to laziness, I would never write.
The beauty of this fact is that it gives us hope. When we look at our country and see the bleakness of it all, that’s not our consciousness talking but our emotions. It’s easy to see things as they are, to succumb to pessimism. To anyone who’s renovated a home, you’ll know that sometimes, what you start out with is a piece of trash. It has lots of potential, but until that possibility is harnessed, the place just looks like any other home or warehouse, albeit without the niceties. What eventually turns it into a magnificent place is the work and effort put into it. You didn’t say hey, this place looks bad, let’s move on to a better house. What you said was this place doesn’t look good, but it can change: it has potential. So when it’s finally remodeled, it’s the best area to live in. For me, this country is like that. We need lots of work, yet it all begins with a decision. I’ll admit, it’s a choice that more than one person needs to make, but a conversion is always possible. And perhaps that is our one source of hope. No matter how corrupt or criminal or dishonest our country becomes, it just needs a collective decision to make it a better place. And believing in that, my friend, takes love, courage, and all the other virtues you can think of.
Virtues, I believe, are the product of a conscious choice. The rest are simply emotions. Yet people confuse the two, equating emotions with virtues. We claim we’re in love with someone when we get that giddy feeling inside. Once the flame’s gone, we’re tempted to break off the relationship. When we face a great challenge in life, be it from a physical, mental, or spiritual source, one of our initial reactions is fear. Some people will say to themselves that they’re not brave or courageous, simply because of the emotion they’re feeling.
To subscribe to such a belief undermines one of the benefits of human existence: free will. If we were merely creatures who acted upon our emotions, then humanity would be reduced to a science, a field of study in which behavior is determined by the laws of causality. A ball, for example, has no free will. It goes where we lead it, and follows the direction of the force exerted upon it. The same goes for objects. Animals, to a certain extent, follow the same rules. They are creatures that obey instinct and feeling, and it is for this reason that animals are trainable. If they were so free from their desires, then the reward-and-punishment system of training wouldn’t be so effective. Yet animals have more will compared to objects. Some animals, for example, are not trainable, and there will always be that small part of trained animals that remains unpredictable, or will break the norm. If we simply followed every urge we felt, then I dare say that animals are more human than us because even they don’t always give in to impulse.
Another reason why conscious choice is important is because of the element of difficulty. In a war, we expect well-trained soldiers to lay their lives in battle. However, we do not have the same expectations for civilians, people who do not have the proper training. The former are conditioned to face combat so many times that when they hear shots being fired, there is still fear, but it is quickly suppressed because of prior experience. The latter, on the other hand, might panic when they hear a warning shot. So in face of danger, which do you think is more likely to enter the fray of battle? The former, but if the latter does it, some perceive it as a form of heroism, because it simply was more difficult for the latter.
Or to put it in another way, which do you think will make more of a sacrifice if they are asked to lay down their life in order to save several people? A suicidal man who has nothing to live for, or a family man who has a family and friends he loves? The value of virtue is not always whether you do it or how often you do it, but what it costs you to do it. A person who enters the fray of battle and does not fear for his life is well and good. It would be more difficult though for someone who felt fear, and had to conquer his weakness. I’m not disputing that the former was brave, but the latter exhibited more courage, not because he was immune to fear, but because he felt it and acted despite that feeling.
A question you might ask is what use is all of this to me? So I’ve differentiated virtue from emotion, so what? It’s been my experience that people use emotion as an excuse not to do what they’re supposed to do, or utilize it as a license to do what one shouldn’t. For example, many so-called writers claim that they only write when inspiration strikes them. If that were the case, then everyone would be writers. I mean who wouldn’t write if they were inspired? But the reality is that a lot of writers write, no matter what they’re feeling. I approve of inspiration. Many masterpieces are borne out of epiphanies. Yet a lot of classics were born not out of divine providence but sheer hard work. I guess that’s one benefit of pursuing a career in a field you love, be it drawing, writing, or any other craft: you’re forced to do it no matter what you’re feeling. I mean in school, when my teacher asks me to submit a term paper, I don’t use the excuse “I’ll write it when I’m inspired”. If you must do it with inspiration, then there are techniques to find inspiration, whether it’s research, or letting yourself be engulfed by new experiences. Another example is divorce. While there are many good reasons to file a divorce, some terminate the relationship because they don’t feel anything anymore. While I’m not married, I know that love is far from mere emotion. Why do I love my parents, and why do they love me? I stopped being cute and cuddly when I turned four. And my parents are far from the most amiable of people, at least to me. Yet we love each other nonetheless, through good times and bad times. It’s not a feeling, it’s a commitment. People are surprised when parents abandon their child, or when children leave their parents. It just goes to show that relationships are a choice. We may not choose who our parents are, but we can always choose to leave them. Or not. And while our parents might feel duty-bound to take care of us, they honestly don’t have to, and there will inevitably be a time when they must let go and allow their children to fend for themselves. Why not sooner, right?
Virtues are about choices. Emotions might influence how we make our choices, but in the end, it’s our free will that determine that paths we take. Sometimes, it’s good to give in to emotions. When you’ve been burned by touching a hot stove, you’d be a fool not to move your hand away. It’s also due to emotions that artists are able to create their most magnificent works, allowing their experiences to affect their creations. But there will always be times when we must resist our initial drives, when we must conquer our passions. If I ran from every experience that brought fear or discouragement, then I would never grow. If I succumbed to my fear of drowning, then I would never have learned to swim. If I gave in to laziness, I would never write.
The beauty of this fact is that it gives us hope. When we look at our country and see the bleakness of it all, that’s not our consciousness talking but our emotions. It’s easy to see things as they are, to succumb to pessimism. To anyone who’s renovated a home, you’ll know that sometimes, what you start out with is a piece of trash. It has lots of potential, but until that possibility is harnessed, the place just looks like any other home or warehouse, albeit without the niceties. What eventually turns it into a magnificent place is the work and effort put into it. You didn’t say hey, this place looks bad, let’s move on to a better house. What you said was this place doesn’t look good, but it can change: it has potential. So when it’s finally remodeled, it’s the best area to live in. For me, this country is like that. We need lots of work, yet it all begins with a decision. I’ll admit, it’s a choice that more than one person needs to make, but a conversion is always possible. And perhaps that is our one source of hope. No matter how corrupt or criminal or dishonest our country becomes, it just needs a collective decision to make it a better place. And believing in that, my friend, takes love, courage, and all the other virtues you can think of.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
[Essay] Losing
If there’s any insult that will last through the ages, it’s being called a loser. No one wants to lose after all. But perhaps what makes losing so painful is the fact that it’s equated with failure, and people in general have feared the big F word.
It’s always been my belief that failure isn’t something that one should fear. Should one dislike it? Of course. It’ll motivate you not to make the same mistake the next time. But in the event that it does happen, instead of whining and feeling sorry for yourself, the proper attitude should be what we can learn from it. And if you look at the cycle of human history, one of the best ways people have learned is by making mistakes. Avoid it when you can, but embrace the lessons it teaches when it does happen. Of course having said that, failure is inevitable. We can’t be great at everything (although we can always strive for it), and sometimes, one must take risks in order to gain great rewards. That means getting hurt, but pain avoidance isn’t always the best medicine.
As I said, no one likes losing, including me. But there is one instance when a small part of myself cherishes it. The one time I don’t mind losing is when I’m playing games. One might think it’s due to the fact that there’s little to lose in a “game”. Well, Poker is a game and various people have lots their lives playing it. Even playing something as simple as Monopoly takes away something valuable from you: time. So even in playing games, a person has something to lose. Granted, it’s not as financially disastrous as losing your job, but losing a game is far from a pleasurable experience.
If truth be told, I don’t mind losing a game the first time. For one thing, it teaches me how to play the game. It’s by making mistakes that we learn the important moves or tactics in a game, what to do and what not to do. Sometimes, when we’re pressed into a corner, we suddenly discover alternatives or consider strategies we wouldn’t have ordinarily considered. But let’s say you lost, and you didn’t learn anything from it. I still take a small pleasure in losing because I don’t like defeat, and suddenly there’s a drive in me to succeed. I develop a persistence to succeed, and my mind suddenly becomes active and all my energies are devoted to winning. It doesn’t matter if I have to lose 99 times to win my 100th game. I just hope my opponent has the same persistence as I do so that I can truly say that my skill has developed.
This mentality of mine applies to all kinds of games I play, whether it’s card games, board games, video games, or *gasp*, even sports. Just the other day, my interest in Warcraft 3 has been rekindled by playing a match on one of its custom scenarios. I’ve been training ever since.
Of course I don’t think I’m the only person who acts like this. I’m sure there are other people who are motivated by such things. It might not be games in general but one particular passion of theirs. It might be not getting the proper music notes right, or forgetting a line in a soliloquy, or not getting the right taste when cooking a meal. Despite the failure, there’s a drive to succeed and improve.
Sadly, this isn’t a trait we apply to everything. We’re selective about it, choosing which circumstances it functions. There’s a desire to improve despite previous failure, but only on select fields of interests. An athlete might possess the drive to win during a sports competition, but not during his academic exam. A writer might struggle to find the appropriate word in a story, but not the right equation to solve a mathematics problem. In a way, we limit ourselves, not because we’re incapable of developing the right mentality, but because we don’t apply it. We already have the right mentality, as can be seen in some of our habits. It’s just not universally applied.
Losing isn’t always such a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s a matter of perspective. We can’t always choose whether we’ll win or lose (although we can strive for it), but the one thing we can determine is how we perceive it. Sadly, the human mind can be intractable if we leave it alone.
It’s always been my belief that failure isn’t something that one should fear. Should one dislike it? Of course. It’ll motivate you not to make the same mistake the next time. But in the event that it does happen, instead of whining and feeling sorry for yourself, the proper attitude should be what we can learn from it. And if you look at the cycle of human history, one of the best ways people have learned is by making mistakes. Avoid it when you can, but embrace the lessons it teaches when it does happen. Of course having said that, failure is inevitable. We can’t be great at everything (although we can always strive for it), and sometimes, one must take risks in order to gain great rewards. That means getting hurt, but pain avoidance isn’t always the best medicine.
As I said, no one likes losing, including me. But there is one instance when a small part of myself cherishes it. The one time I don’t mind losing is when I’m playing games. One might think it’s due to the fact that there’s little to lose in a “game”. Well, Poker is a game and various people have lots their lives playing it. Even playing something as simple as Monopoly takes away something valuable from you: time. So even in playing games, a person has something to lose. Granted, it’s not as financially disastrous as losing your job, but losing a game is far from a pleasurable experience.
If truth be told, I don’t mind losing a game the first time. For one thing, it teaches me how to play the game. It’s by making mistakes that we learn the important moves or tactics in a game, what to do and what not to do. Sometimes, when we’re pressed into a corner, we suddenly discover alternatives or consider strategies we wouldn’t have ordinarily considered. But let’s say you lost, and you didn’t learn anything from it. I still take a small pleasure in losing because I don’t like defeat, and suddenly there’s a drive in me to succeed. I develop a persistence to succeed, and my mind suddenly becomes active and all my energies are devoted to winning. It doesn’t matter if I have to lose 99 times to win my 100th game. I just hope my opponent has the same persistence as I do so that I can truly say that my skill has developed.
This mentality of mine applies to all kinds of games I play, whether it’s card games, board games, video games, or *gasp*, even sports. Just the other day, my interest in Warcraft 3 has been rekindled by playing a match on one of its custom scenarios. I’ve been training ever since.
Of course I don’t think I’m the only person who acts like this. I’m sure there are other people who are motivated by such things. It might not be games in general but one particular passion of theirs. It might be not getting the proper music notes right, or forgetting a line in a soliloquy, or not getting the right taste when cooking a meal. Despite the failure, there’s a drive to succeed and improve.
Sadly, this isn’t a trait we apply to everything. We’re selective about it, choosing which circumstances it functions. There’s a desire to improve despite previous failure, but only on select fields of interests. An athlete might possess the drive to win during a sports competition, but not during his academic exam. A writer might struggle to find the appropriate word in a story, but not the right equation to solve a mathematics problem. In a way, we limit ourselves, not because we’re incapable of developing the right mentality, but because we don’t apply it. We already have the right mentality, as can be seen in some of our habits. It’s just not universally applied.
Losing isn’t always such a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s a matter of perspective. We can’t always choose whether we’ll win or lose (although we can strive for it), but the one thing we can determine is how we perceive it. Sadly, the human mind can be intractable if we leave it alone.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
[Book Reviews] October Book Reviews
The Rating System:
1 – There are better ways to spend your time. Examples: Damphir
2 – Ho hum novels, typical of its genre. Examples: most Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels.
3 – A cut above the rest, these are usually standard fare stories with either an interesting twist, gorgeous visualizations, or simply make a very interesting read. Examples: Anita Blake series, Dragonlance Chronicles.
4 – Highly recommended books! An interesting read, and pioneers the genre it’s in. Examples: Kushiel’s Dart, Perdido Street Station, Good Omens.
5 – A classic. Must get at all cost. Examples: A Game of Thrones, The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant, Dune.
Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami
Murakami takes readers for a lovely ride into the consciousness of two protagonists, a girl who has never fallen in love, and her best friend who is secretly in love with her. The words are short and simple, no long descriptions for example, but the narrative is entertaining and ever-changing in only a way Murakami can narrate. The novel might just be a translation, but much like haikus, it’s nonetheless gorgeously written, and it would seem as if it was never written in Japanese to begin with. Much like most literary fiction, reality and fantasy collide, yet it’s all just a metaphor for the human condition.
Rating: 4.5/5.
Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk
The master of psychological horror, Palahniuk takes us on a roller-coaster ride of the life of a cult survivor. It’s chock full of details, ranging from how to remove blood stains from the carpet to all the chemicals one needs to consume to preserve one’s beauty. It’s also a great concept book as the pages and chapters are numbered in reverse order, a countdown to the story’s predictable but enjoyable ending.
Rating: 4/5.
Pattern Recognition by William Gibson
A perfect example of today’s modern novel, Pattern Recognition is full of neologisms and tech-savvy terms, although it’s an easier read compared to Neuromancer. Post-apocalyptic cyberspace cities give way to a consumer-heavy present, and the reader is bombarded by all these brand labels, which as it should be as the main character has a certain allergy to such logos. The book starts out as a mystery-type novel with the main character’s history as a recurring subplot. While far from an easy read, it’s more accessible compared to his earlier work, and is geared towards a less ambiguous ending.
Rating: 4/5.
Slayers Vol 3: The Ghost of Sairaag by Hajime Kanzaki
The first few pages are already funny, if you know what to look for. Kanzaki transforms standard-fare fantasy into one with a comedic slant thanks to his writing style, while still being epic and serious at the appropriate moments. A couple of slapstick humor here though, and that doesn’t translate so well in text as it does in animation. Still, Slayers is a great diversion, and quickly cuts to the chase. Facing the aftermath of the previous books, heroine Lina Inverse encounters an old enemy she thought was dead. Despite that fact, the story supports itself well enough without needing prior knowledge of the books that preceded it.
Rating: 3/5.
After the Quake by Haruki Murakami
When you thought that Murakami’s stories couldn’t get any shorter, this collection compiles several brief narratives loosely based on an earthquake that shook Japan. Murakami’s sense of pacing here is impeccable, as the stories when it is most appropriate, giving the reader something to think about rather than closure. Much of it is an easy read, and it’s amazing where Murakami’s imagination can take you. There’s little commitment here at barely a hundred pages, but the emotional and intellectual returns are great.
Rating: 5/5.
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Romance in a not-so-linear narrative, The Time Traveler’s Wife is an excellent example of good slipstream fiction. Formal fiction prose blends with science-fiction and fantasy ideas, and one gets caught up with the two main protagonists, lovers who meet each other in different stages of their life. Several quotations from poetry and philosophy sprinkle this novel, as well as various foreign words, but they don’t detract from the story, and adds to the glamour. Niffenegger’s execution of time travel and keeping track of all of it must be applauded, as well as the twists and turns one encounters in the plot.
Rating: 5/5.
The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia McKillip
Perhaps McKillip’s best-written novel ever, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld contains all the essential elements a classic. The prose is enrapturing, brief but colorful, simple yet deep. You also have a three-dimensional protagonist, who appears strong at the beginning, but eventually undergoes a transformation of her own. And while the book is short, it encapsulates a lot of things, and no line is wasted. There’s also the menagerie of creatures and riddles, presented in a way only McKillip can deliver. As if that wasn’t enough, readers are rewarded by an ending that is fulfilling but does not seem forced.
Rating: 5/5.
The Knight by Gene Wolfe
While a novel of epic proportions, more modern readers of fantasy or fiction might be detracted by Wolfe’s more traditional writing style. If one can get over that, then The Knight is a story rich in character and setting, as Wolfe draws from various Western lore. The language is archaic but appropriate, while the narrative takes the form of the protagonist writing a letter to his brother. The hero of the story is a child who suddenly finds himself in another world that has seven layers, and is soon transformed into an adult as he encounters knights and various kinds of aelfs. I couldn’t help but feel though that this book was a male fantasy, as several women try to bed the protagonist. Finally, this is truly a novel in two parts, as the second part, The Wizard, must be read in order to complete the tale. The Knight ends at a crucial juncture, not necessary leaving you hanging, although there has been a lot of build up that has not yet been resolved.
Rating: 3.5/5.
The Two Swords by R.A. Salvatore
Concluding the Hunter’s Blades trilogy, Salvatore takes his most famous character, Drizz’t Do’Urden, to new heights as his character evolves once more and realizes new epiphanies. As usual, the novel is full of what Salvatore is good at: fight scenes, both of epic scale and dramatic one-on-one battles. Any one who’s read the other books in the series will find themselves at home with this one, but those who haven’t might get lost at the opening, as Salvatore has managed to turn the exploits of Drizz’t into a massive, world-changing event that will change a part of Faerun forever. And perhaps that’s the weakness of the book, as new readers will be confounded at the various characters and perspectives, while existing fans will notice the sudden disappearance of a sub-plot being built up in the previous two novels. Everything simply gets swept away in the revolution. New sub-plots are also seeded in The Two Swords, paving the way for more sequels, and ensuring fans that this is far from Drizz’t’s last adventure.
Rating: 3/5.
Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
Another Japanese writer who practices the art of telling short narratives, Yoshimoto’s writing style is quite straightforward and entertaining. Kitchen is actually composed of two stories, but both tales have many similarities. There always seems to be an element of fantasy or disbelief when it comes to Yoshimoto, but she executes it perfectly, even amidst her gender-bending protagonists. Her characters are emotionally scarred in this book, and indeed, her subject matter is dark and depressing. Yet the message Yoshimoto gives is one of catharsis, one of hope. While Kitchen may be a quick and easy read, it harkens to the soul and leaves one much to ponder upon.
Rating: 4/5.
Three Hearts & Three Lions by Poul Anderson
While undeniably a classic, its writing style and narrative betrays its age. Archaic language and ancient fantasy tropes pepper this book, but it is far from a difficult read. Hoger Carlsen, hero of the story, is transported from Earth to a land of faerie, and there combats the forces of chaos. While this book is inspired by Arthurian and European myth, many modern fantasy novels borrow elements from Three Hearts & Three Lions. Of course having said that, today’s reader might not necessarily find this book as appealing as it was half a century ago.
Rating: 3/5.
1 – There are better ways to spend your time. Examples: Damphir
2 – Ho hum novels, typical of its genre. Examples: most Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels.
3 – A cut above the rest, these are usually standard fare stories with either an interesting twist, gorgeous visualizations, or simply make a very interesting read. Examples: Anita Blake series, Dragonlance Chronicles.
4 – Highly recommended books! An interesting read, and pioneers the genre it’s in. Examples: Kushiel’s Dart, Perdido Street Station, Good Omens.
5 – A classic. Must get at all cost. Examples: A Game of Thrones, The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant, Dune.
Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami
Murakami takes readers for a lovely ride into the consciousness of two protagonists, a girl who has never fallen in love, and her best friend who is secretly in love with her. The words are short and simple, no long descriptions for example, but the narrative is entertaining and ever-changing in only a way Murakami can narrate. The novel might just be a translation, but much like haikus, it’s nonetheless gorgeously written, and it would seem as if it was never written in Japanese to begin with. Much like most literary fiction, reality and fantasy collide, yet it’s all just a metaphor for the human condition.
Rating: 4.5/5.
Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk
The master of psychological horror, Palahniuk takes us on a roller-coaster ride of the life of a cult survivor. It’s chock full of details, ranging from how to remove blood stains from the carpet to all the chemicals one needs to consume to preserve one’s beauty. It’s also a great concept book as the pages and chapters are numbered in reverse order, a countdown to the story’s predictable but enjoyable ending.
Rating: 4/5.
Pattern Recognition by William Gibson
A perfect example of today’s modern novel, Pattern Recognition is full of neologisms and tech-savvy terms, although it’s an easier read compared to Neuromancer. Post-apocalyptic cyberspace cities give way to a consumer-heavy present, and the reader is bombarded by all these brand labels, which as it should be as the main character has a certain allergy to such logos. The book starts out as a mystery-type novel with the main character’s history as a recurring subplot. While far from an easy read, it’s more accessible compared to his earlier work, and is geared towards a less ambiguous ending.
Rating: 4/5.
Slayers Vol 3: The Ghost of Sairaag by Hajime Kanzaki
The first few pages are already funny, if you know what to look for. Kanzaki transforms standard-fare fantasy into one with a comedic slant thanks to his writing style, while still being epic and serious at the appropriate moments. A couple of slapstick humor here though, and that doesn’t translate so well in text as it does in animation. Still, Slayers is a great diversion, and quickly cuts to the chase. Facing the aftermath of the previous books, heroine Lina Inverse encounters an old enemy she thought was dead. Despite that fact, the story supports itself well enough without needing prior knowledge of the books that preceded it.
Rating: 3/5.
After the Quake by Haruki Murakami
When you thought that Murakami’s stories couldn’t get any shorter, this collection compiles several brief narratives loosely based on an earthquake that shook Japan. Murakami’s sense of pacing here is impeccable, as the stories when it is most appropriate, giving the reader something to think about rather than closure. Much of it is an easy read, and it’s amazing where Murakami’s imagination can take you. There’s little commitment here at barely a hundred pages, but the emotional and intellectual returns are great.
Rating: 5/5.
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Romance in a not-so-linear narrative, The Time Traveler’s Wife is an excellent example of good slipstream fiction. Formal fiction prose blends with science-fiction and fantasy ideas, and one gets caught up with the two main protagonists, lovers who meet each other in different stages of their life. Several quotations from poetry and philosophy sprinkle this novel, as well as various foreign words, but they don’t detract from the story, and adds to the glamour. Niffenegger’s execution of time travel and keeping track of all of it must be applauded, as well as the twists and turns one encounters in the plot.
Rating: 5/5.
The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia McKillip
Perhaps McKillip’s best-written novel ever, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld contains all the essential elements a classic. The prose is enrapturing, brief but colorful, simple yet deep. You also have a three-dimensional protagonist, who appears strong at the beginning, but eventually undergoes a transformation of her own. And while the book is short, it encapsulates a lot of things, and no line is wasted. There’s also the menagerie of creatures and riddles, presented in a way only McKillip can deliver. As if that wasn’t enough, readers are rewarded by an ending that is fulfilling but does not seem forced.
Rating: 5/5.
The Knight by Gene Wolfe
While a novel of epic proportions, more modern readers of fantasy or fiction might be detracted by Wolfe’s more traditional writing style. If one can get over that, then The Knight is a story rich in character and setting, as Wolfe draws from various Western lore. The language is archaic but appropriate, while the narrative takes the form of the protagonist writing a letter to his brother. The hero of the story is a child who suddenly finds himself in another world that has seven layers, and is soon transformed into an adult as he encounters knights and various kinds of aelfs. I couldn’t help but feel though that this book was a male fantasy, as several women try to bed the protagonist. Finally, this is truly a novel in two parts, as the second part, The Wizard, must be read in order to complete the tale. The Knight ends at a crucial juncture, not necessary leaving you hanging, although there has been a lot of build up that has not yet been resolved.
Rating: 3.5/5.
The Two Swords by R.A. Salvatore
Concluding the Hunter’s Blades trilogy, Salvatore takes his most famous character, Drizz’t Do’Urden, to new heights as his character evolves once more and realizes new epiphanies. As usual, the novel is full of what Salvatore is good at: fight scenes, both of epic scale and dramatic one-on-one battles. Any one who’s read the other books in the series will find themselves at home with this one, but those who haven’t might get lost at the opening, as Salvatore has managed to turn the exploits of Drizz’t into a massive, world-changing event that will change a part of Faerun forever. And perhaps that’s the weakness of the book, as new readers will be confounded at the various characters and perspectives, while existing fans will notice the sudden disappearance of a sub-plot being built up in the previous two novels. Everything simply gets swept away in the revolution. New sub-plots are also seeded in The Two Swords, paving the way for more sequels, and ensuring fans that this is far from Drizz’t’s last adventure.
Rating: 3/5.
Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
Another Japanese writer who practices the art of telling short narratives, Yoshimoto’s writing style is quite straightforward and entertaining. Kitchen is actually composed of two stories, but both tales have many similarities. There always seems to be an element of fantasy or disbelief when it comes to Yoshimoto, but she executes it perfectly, even amidst her gender-bending protagonists. Her characters are emotionally scarred in this book, and indeed, her subject matter is dark and depressing. Yet the message Yoshimoto gives is one of catharsis, one of hope. While Kitchen may be a quick and easy read, it harkens to the soul and leaves one much to ponder upon.
Rating: 4/5.
Three Hearts & Three Lions by Poul Anderson
While undeniably a classic, its writing style and narrative betrays its age. Archaic language and ancient fantasy tropes pepper this book, but it is far from a difficult read. Hoger Carlsen, hero of the story, is transported from Earth to a land of faerie, and there combats the forces of chaos. While this book is inspired by Arthurian and European myth, many modern fantasy novels borrow elements from Three Hearts & Three Lions. Of course having said that, today’s reader might not necessarily find this book as appealing as it was half a century ago.
Rating: 3/5.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
[Essay] Memory: The Silent Killer
An important but subtle element that governs us is memory. At the shallowest level, it can be as simple as remembering a friend’s name. Yet memory is a pervading force, and it branches out to other aspects of our lives. If it wasn’t so vital, whether it be individual memory or collective memory, then why bother with history, with psychology, or simply keeping a journal?
Haven’t you been attracted to someone because they reminded you of someone else in your past, be it a friend, a lover, a relative? It’s not always apparent the first time you meet a person, yet it’s there: what’s beautiful about him or her? Sometimes, it’s the memory of a past life with someone else who shares the same qualities. It could be the way they talk, a physical feature, the gestures they make, or even their interests. Yet no two individuals are completely identical, and so this new person’s quirks will in turn cause you to be attracted to someone similar in the future. But it’s not always about love. It could also remind us to dislike certain types of people, to distrust them, and sometimes, to loathe them. When we quibble that we don’t like a certain person, yet can’t point our finger on what makes them untrustworthy, sometimes it can be rooted to a memory of encountering someone similar.
As for friendships, even the strongest bonds can be shattered by memory. Amnesiacs live out entirely new lives, make new friends, for previous shared experiences do not exist. Yet it does not always have to be something that drastic. In our daily lives, who do we think about? Perhaps one of the reasons why people don’t always keep in touch with each other is because we forget. And the insidious part of it all is that we don’t notice. It could be our best friend from high school, a teacher from college, or perhaps our nursemaids when we were babes. What impedes us is not malice or fear or laziness. Sometimes it’s memory, as their significance in our lives is encompassed by the all-too-important present.
But forgetfulness is not always the root of disagreements. Sometimes, we remember them all too well. Lovers might separate and claim that the other was not the same person they fell in love with. Here, the roots of memory take a firm hold, and anything short of it becomes faulty, unworthy. The same goes for our friends and family: we often like to remember them during their best. But some fall prey to constantly measuring them by that standard. And there’s the fact that memory isn’t always selective, and as much as we remember the good, we also recall the bad, and it lurks in our minds whenever we encounter them. It’s what makes betraying a trust so malignant: even if we forgive, we seldom forget.
We are temporal beings, and our only link to who we truly are lies in memory. Aside from our experiences in the present, the only thing that tethers us to the past, and some believe to the future, is memory. The reason we keep on doing something over and over again is because we recall our prior encounters with it. Learning would be impossible if it weren’t for memory, and indeed, we measure growth in terms of who we used to be. A man without memories is simply a man who lives for the present: who can say whether he’s matured or not? He cannot plan, he cannot save, he cannot expect. There is simply the now, with no past life to give him firm grounding.
And indeed, memory is the key to our identity. The reason why we’re so dedicated to unearth lost memories is because we believe they’re part of what makes us who we are. Have you ever tried to remember something, yet can’t? Don’t you feel the frustration in doing so? It doesn’t have to be an important event, it could be a trivial thing. Perhaps what you had for lunch, or what clothes your crush wore. Yet when it’s forgotten, it’s as if we’ve lost a part of ourselves as well. But this fact extends to more than the individual. Rewriting history is perhaps difficult because we’re modifying the memory of a nation, of a people. Unlike true memory, we can edit, delete, or even add to our past. Whereas our own memories are only subject to the biases of a single person, history is subject to the biases of a million narrators.
One of the questions a pacifist should ask is when do we start remembering in terms of a collective rather than as individuals? Whether it be as a person, a family, a state, or a nation, as long as we have these artificial boundaries, there will always be conflict. Memory thrives on shared experiences, and in fact what takes note of the differences we have. Memory is the ego, but for selfish creatures like ourselves, perhaps the only way to realize a lasting peace is to have one ego. That’s not to say we give up our individuality, but rather that we start thinking in terms of everyone and not just ourselves or our nuclear family.
Concepts like vendetta and revenge is only possible with the existence of memory. Yet when we ourselves make a mistake, we do not rise up in retaliation to our own body, but instead seek to correct ourselves, to not repeat the same mistake. As long as we think of ourselves as individuals, there will always be “the other”, a separate memory that needs to be assimilated, or failing that, destroyed.
Death is what gives memory a finality. We make our last recollections as we take our final breath. But the ironic thing is perhaps the fact that while individual memory ceases with death, collective memory is strengthened by a person’s death. The dead become part of the consciousness of the survivors. And if history is any proof, the deaths of hundreds, thousands, and millions take a firm foothold in the minds of people.
The question I ask is not whether we remember the past, but whether forgetting is a boon or a bane. As we witness innumerable horrors, is forgetting the ultimate relief, or does it plant the seeds for human error to repeat once again?
Haven’t you been attracted to someone because they reminded you of someone else in your past, be it a friend, a lover, a relative? It’s not always apparent the first time you meet a person, yet it’s there: what’s beautiful about him or her? Sometimes, it’s the memory of a past life with someone else who shares the same qualities. It could be the way they talk, a physical feature, the gestures they make, or even their interests. Yet no two individuals are completely identical, and so this new person’s quirks will in turn cause you to be attracted to someone similar in the future. But it’s not always about love. It could also remind us to dislike certain types of people, to distrust them, and sometimes, to loathe them. When we quibble that we don’t like a certain person, yet can’t point our finger on what makes them untrustworthy, sometimes it can be rooted to a memory of encountering someone similar.
As for friendships, even the strongest bonds can be shattered by memory. Amnesiacs live out entirely new lives, make new friends, for previous shared experiences do not exist. Yet it does not always have to be something that drastic. In our daily lives, who do we think about? Perhaps one of the reasons why people don’t always keep in touch with each other is because we forget. And the insidious part of it all is that we don’t notice. It could be our best friend from high school, a teacher from college, or perhaps our nursemaids when we were babes. What impedes us is not malice or fear or laziness. Sometimes it’s memory, as their significance in our lives is encompassed by the all-too-important present.
But forgetfulness is not always the root of disagreements. Sometimes, we remember them all too well. Lovers might separate and claim that the other was not the same person they fell in love with. Here, the roots of memory take a firm hold, and anything short of it becomes faulty, unworthy. The same goes for our friends and family: we often like to remember them during their best. But some fall prey to constantly measuring them by that standard. And there’s the fact that memory isn’t always selective, and as much as we remember the good, we also recall the bad, and it lurks in our minds whenever we encounter them. It’s what makes betraying a trust so malignant: even if we forgive, we seldom forget.
We are temporal beings, and our only link to who we truly are lies in memory. Aside from our experiences in the present, the only thing that tethers us to the past, and some believe to the future, is memory. The reason we keep on doing something over and over again is because we recall our prior encounters with it. Learning would be impossible if it weren’t for memory, and indeed, we measure growth in terms of who we used to be. A man without memories is simply a man who lives for the present: who can say whether he’s matured or not? He cannot plan, he cannot save, he cannot expect. There is simply the now, with no past life to give him firm grounding.
And indeed, memory is the key to our identity. The reason why we’re so dedicated to unearth lost memories is because we believe they’re part of what makes us who we are. Have you ever tried to remember something, yet can’t? Don’t you feel the frustration in doing so? It doesn’t have to be an important event, it could be a trivial thing. Perhaps what you had for lunch, or what clothes your crush wore. Yet when it’s forgotten, it’s as if we’ve lost a part of ourselves as well. But this fact extends to more than the individual. Rewriting history is perhaps difficult because we’re modifying the memory of a nation, of a people. Unlike true memory, we can edit, delete, or even add to our past. Whereas our own memories are only subject to the biases of a single person, history is subject to the biases of a million narrators.
One of the questions a pacifist should ask is when do we start remembering in terms of a collective rather than as individuals? Whether it be as a person, a family, a state, or a nation, as long as we have these artificial boundaries, there will always be conflict. Memory thrives on shared experiences, and in fact what takes note of the differences we have. Memory is the ego, but for selfish creatures like ourselves, perhaps the only way to realize a lasting peace is to have one ego. That’s not to say we give up our individuality, but rather that we start thinking in terms of everyone and not just ourselves or our nuclear family.
Concepts like vendetta and revenge is only possible with the existence of memory. Yet when we ourselves make a mistake, we do not rise up in retaliation to our own body, but instead seek to correct ourselves, to not repeat the same mistake. As long as we think of ourselves as individuals, there will always be “the other”, a separate memory that needs to be assimilated, or failing that, destroyed.
Death is what gives memory a finality. We make our last recollections as we take our final breath. But the ironic thing is perhaps the fact that while individual memory ceases with death, collective memory is strengthened by a person’s death. The dead become part of the consciousness of the survivors. And if history is any proof, the deaths of hundreds, thousands, and millions take a firm foothold in the minds of people.
The question I ask is not whether we remember the past, but whether forgetting is a boon or a bane. As we witness innumerable horrors, is forgetting the ultimate relief, or does it plant the seeds for human error to repeat once again?
Saturday, September 24, 2005
The Fiction in Nonfiction
There are people who show contempt for woks of fiction, and quickly quip that the only manuscripts they read are works of nonfiction, be it history books, newspapers, or books classified under the nonfiction section of the library. But as my media teachers, history professors, and writing mentors have taught me, we are all surrounded by works of fiction, although many are not readily aware of it. Most people look to nonfiction for truth: but truth is an already elusive concept in real life, how much more when it gets penned down by far from objective authors?
First and foremost, we must remember that books and publications are written by people. They are not divinely scribed by an omniscient deity, and thus are subject to bias. Even the most factual of documents are subject to this shortcoming. Take historical accounts. An old adage is that history is written by the victors. And it’s true. Not so long ago, Magellan was a hero to Filipinos, the man who discovered the Philippine Islands. Of course presently in that same island where one of the first battles between Spain and this archipelago was waged lies two graves: one honoring Magellan, the other Lapu-Lapu for fending off foreign conquerors. Magellan might be the hero for the West, but to history books in this country, Lapu-Lapu is not an ignorant savage but the first of many heroes who would rebel against Spain.
Sometimes, it’s not even the limitation of the writer but of the medium. Newspapers, for example, can only have one front page. As much as I want people to read everything that’s contained in the newspaper, a lot of people usually just focus on the front page. This is where the headlines are placed, but have you ever asked who gets to choose what gets splattered on in front? Similarly, the editors can’t report about everything that happens in the nation. Some news articles make its way to the inside pages, others buried or filed under “future use”. An editor could easily place an unwanted (but forced to publish) story somewhere in the middle of the broadsheet, consigning it to a subtle demise.
And since we’re talking about newspapers, nothing is as unforeseen as the present. They say hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps that is an advantage history books have over tabloids and broadsheets. I mean the dailies are forced to report about the present, and more often than not, we don’t have all the facts. We have conjectures, theories, and suspicions, and we try as best as we can to tie in all the facts. As much as our conclusions are true, they could also be wrong. History books, at least, have the benefit of sifting through the various discoveries. Even then, they are made obsolete with new discoveries of their respective field.
If that’s the case with history and with newspapers, how much more with other works of nonfiction? Again, many people have this misconception that just because a work is labeled as nonfiction that everything that needs to be written must be true. They forget that nonfiction is still literary, and thus subject to the same constraints of telling a story. When I read an account, a biography, or a report, I can’t always expect the writer to throw in everything that’s true. No, I expect to read about it in a cohesive and logical manner. That means lots of edited parts, and perhaps an embellishment here and there. In reading the exploits of an adventurer, for example, do I really need to know that the person went to the bathroom five times a day? At not if you’re trying to built up suspense and excitement. Similarly, when we blog about our day, we don’t always tell the tale chronological of events: we merely mention what is the most significant, what has the most impact. And sometimes, whether intentional or not, we tie them up with fictional interludes, or at least making it appear so.
Memory is also the most fragile of things, and most of us draw inspiration from remembered accounts, recalled events. When we finally get to write a work of nonfiction, they are far from perfectly accurate. Hallucinations, epiphanies, or faulty memory usually get in our way of telling a story as it is. And even then, other people would have witnessed the same event differently. People will have different truths, even if they arise from the same circumstances.
So is truth truly as elusive as it seems, since we cannot even trust the written word? I believe in ideological truths. The small instances might not always be true, but the larger message is. When I read about a man driven by greed and selfishness, just because I read it in a book, be it fiction or nonfiction, does not mean such people do not exist in reality. They do. The same goes for other emotions, such as kindness, love, and suffering. Or sometimes it’s not the bigger picture that’s true. I might fabricate the most unbelievable conspiracy story, and while the theory might be fictional, the smaller instances in the narrative, such as corruption in government, the abuses people suffer, or the double-standard humans live with, is something readers are familiar with.
First and foremost, I think reading challengers readers to think. The easiest thing to do is to simply believe what other people have to say; to let others do the thinking for you. Some people hide under the cover of nonfiction, when the fact of the matter is, there is more truth in fiction that one could ever realize.
First and foremost, we must remember that books and publications are written by people. They are not divinely scribed by an omniscient deity, and thus are subject to bias. Even the most factual of documents are subject to this shortcoming. Take historical accounts. An old adage is that history is written by the victors. And it’s true. Not so long ago, Magellan was a hero to Filipinos, the man who discovered the Philippine Islands. Of course presently in that same island where one of the first battles between Spain and this archipelago was waged lies two graves: one honoring Magellan, the other Lapu-Lapu for fending off foreign conquerors. Magellan might be the hero for the West, but to history books in this country, Lapu-Lapu is not an ignorant savage but the first of many heroes who would rebel against Spain.
Sometimes, it’s not even the limitation of the writer but of the medium. Newspapers, for example, can only have one front page. As much as I want people to read everything that’s contained in the newspaper, a lot of people usually just focus on the front page. This is where the headlines are placed, but have you ever asked who gets to choose what gets splattered on in front? Similarly, the editors can’t report about everything that happens in the nation. Some news articles make its way to the inside pages, others buried or filed under “future use”. An editor could easily place an unwanted (but forced to publish) story somewhere in the middle of the broadsheet, consigning it to a subtle demise.
And since we’re talking about newspapers, nothing is as unforeseen as the present. They say hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps that is an advantage history books have over tabloids and broadsheets. I mean the dailies are forced to report about the present, and more often than not, we don’t have all the facts. We have conjectures, theories, and suspicions, and we try as best as we can to tie in all the facts. As much as our conclusions are true, they could also be wrong. History books, at least, have the benefit of sifting through the various discoveries. Even then, they are made obsolete with new discoveries of their respective field.
If that’s the case with history and with newspapers, how much more with other works of nonfiction? Again, many people have this misconception that just because a work is labeled as nonfiction that everything that needs to be written must be true. They forget that nonfiction is still literary, and thus subject to the same constraints of telling a story. When I read an account, a biography, or a report, I can’t always expect the writer to throw in everything that’s true. No, I expect to read about it in a cohesive and logical manner. That means lots of edited parts, and perhaps an embellishment here and there. In reading the exploits of an adventurer, for example, do I really need to know that the person went to the bathroom five times a day? At not if you’re trying to built up suspense and excitement. Similarly, when we blog about our day, we don’t always tell the tale chronological of events: we merely mention what is the most significant, what has the most impact. And sometimes, whether intentional or not, we tie them up with fictional interludes, or at least making it appear so.
Memory is also the most fragile of things, and most of us draw inspiration from remembered accounts, recalled events. When we finally get to write a work of nonfiction, they are far from perfectly accurate. Hallucinations, epiphanies, or faulty memory usually get in our way of telling a story as it is. And even then, other people would have witnessed the same event differently. People will have different truths, even if they arise from the same circumstances.
So is truth truly as elusive as it seems, since we cannot even trust the written word? I believe in ideological truths. The small instances might not always be true, but the larger message is. When I read about a man driven by greed and selfishness, just because I read it in a book, be it fiction or nonfiction, does not mean such people do not exist in reality. They do. The same goes for other emotions, such as kindness, love, and suffering. Or sometimes it’s not the bigger picture that’s true. I might fabricate the most unbelievable conspiracy story, and while the theory might be fictional, the smaller instances in the narrative, such as corruption in government, the abuses people suffer, or the double-standard humans live with, is something readers are familiar with.
First and foremost, I think reading challengers readers to think. The easiest thing to do is to simply believe what other people have to say; to let others do the thinking for you. Some people hide under the cover of nonfiction, when the fact of the matter is, there is more truth in fiction that one could ever realize.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
[Essay] Humanity's Constant Struggle
There’s this one statement which I often hear, usually in the context of a break-up: “I won’t change for anyone except myself.” Now that strikes me as arrogance, as if change was something to be avoided, or something we can control.
What is change? Is it good or bad? In theory, it could be either one, or sometimes, both. Yet within each human being is a desire to remain as is, to resist change, even if it’s for the better. It’s a perfectly natural tendency. When there is a lack of change, there are no surprises. Everything goes as predicted, and it’s easy to succumb to complacency and comfort. Unfortunately, this also breeds stagnation, and we stop growing, stop evolving into a better person. Change might be the logical choice, but fear of the unknown usually gets the better of us. “Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t know” is an obvious cliché that results from this mentality.
In reality, change is inevitable. Even the most ardent of resistors will change. Time will age us, cause us to develop new habits, or alter old ones. Yet it is possible to slow down its progress. In that, the most adamant succeed. Change over the physical body, we have little control of. Change over our minds, we have considerable power over. Not total control, mind you, but nonetheless a considerable sum. Take for example the story of Filipino saint, Lorenzo Ruiz. At the hands of his foreign captors, he was asked to renounce his faith in God. No matter what form of coercion they employed, no matter what form of torture they practiced, he did not relent. Lorenzo Ruiz died a Christian. Did they succeed in battering his body? Yes. Were they successful in changing his belief and perspective? No. Yet even if St. Lorenzo Ruiz survived that ordeal and was set free, there would have been a part of his mind that would have been changed. It might have been the trauma of being tortured, or perhaps the shock at seeing his companions suffer. His faith in God might have remained, but there are other aspects of his mind that could have been altered, irregardless of whether he’s conscious of it or not.
There are two ways to change: voluntarily, or involuntarily. The latter is perceived as undesirable, sometimes even evil. For example, when a hurricane hits your home and transforms your life into a pauper, we see that as a curse. Or perhaps when a girlfriend or boyfriend asks you to change this certain quality of yours, we still consider it an involuntary change because it did not stem from our own initiative. Compare that to a person who suddenly decides he or she wants to change for the better. It might be a realization that he or she should live a healthy life, hence exercising daily from that point on. But is such a dichotomy valid, that voluntarily change is always good, and involuntary change bad?
In truth, it all boils down to two factors: foresight and pride. If a man suddenly wins the lottery, does he curse the fates for giving him such an unexpected windfall? Foresight tells him that it’s a good thing, so he takes pleasure in such an occasion, even if the circumstances behind it was involuntary. But human foresight is not infinite, and a few years later, the same man might find himself living a lonely and horrible life, thanks to the familial squabbles such riches brought him. Or take a detrimental occasion, such as losing your job. One immediately thinks that it’s a bad thing, that getting fired is far from an auspicious circumstance. You might curse your employer and fellow employees when that happens, but a few years later, look back at it and think that it’s the best thing that ever happened to you, especially when a bigger company hires you for your now-available expertise, or paves the way for you to start your own business. In either scenario, we lacked the foresight to recognize if it’s a good or a bad thing, and simply assume the immediate repercussions.
But what about pride? Well, some people take comfort that their decisions are voluntary, whether it reaps rewards or ruin. As much as we decide to do what’s good and right, we also decide to do things that are detrimental not only to ourselves but to our society as well. For example, our vices are our own choices, whether it’s drinking or smoking. I could easy think one day that hey, I should start smoking. And this perpetuates until the end of my life. Health-wise, it’s not the smartest thing to do, but we condone such a habit because it was ours to begin with. Compare that to our parents or doctor ordering us to eat our vegetables. While eating vegetables is a healthy option, we resent doing so, not just because of the taste, but the fact that doing so wasn’t our decision or that someone else was compelling us. This kind of mentality is magnified when a part of us changes due to someone we have a dark past with. It might be a former employer, a previous lover, a relative we’ve quarreled with, or a friend turned nemesis. For example, when living with your girlfriend, you might have had to give up a bad habit like smoking, or learned a new skill like cooking. When you break up with her, there’s a desire to rebel, as if to assert your own individuality, or to scorn the other person. You start smoking again, especially when you encounter your ex, or perhaps you never turn on the stove again, for it brings back too many memories. In this case, we reverted to our old selves due to a conscious choice that traces its roots to pride.
Of course I’m not saying that as long as the end-results are good, it shouldn’t matter whether the cause was voluntary or involuntary. People can typically be classified under one of two categories: those who act, and those who react. The latter are more likely to respond to involuntary change. When unpleasant circumstances hit them, that’s the only time they grow. That’s not to say that’s entirely bad: some reactive people, when encountering a disaster, might be so determined that they turn a disadvantage into an advantage. When a typhoon hits their home, he or she rebuilds the entire city. The other type of person builds things out of their own initiative: they don’t wait for favorable conditions, but instead start working now. They change irregardless of the current circumstance.
People usually fall somewhere between the two: I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s purely voluntary. Unfortunately, meeting someone who’s perpetually involuntary is a possibility. Perhaps the problem with being involuntary is the fact that you wait for an external stimulus for you to change. You might be good at coping with crisis, but if it never arrives, then you’ll never grow as well. Of course a voluntary person can learn a thing or two from the involuntary person as well. Conditions, after all, are dynamic and ever-changing. One needs to adapt to the situation if one were to succeed, and in the endeavors that a voluntary person will start, those types of encounters cannot be avoided.
A voluntary person, however, has one important quality that needs to be respected. He or she has pride. And make no mistake, while pride can get in the way of getting the job done, pride is what gives us our dignity and our humanity. Do I really want to live a life where everything I accomplish or do is dictated by someone else? Voluntary people change because it is their decision to do so, but taken to the extreme, are the types that will claim “I will change for no one except myself”. Hence healthy doses of being voluntary and involuntary is needed. A person will grow, sometimes by their own choices, and sometimes by uncontrolled events.
Change is honestly a difficult concept to embrace. If you observe most people’s lives, growth is usually achieved when adversity is encountered. And I don’t think I’ve met anyone who asks for problems. Even the most voluntary of people, who for example might start up their own business, will not look forward to the trials he or she will face. They merely see it as a hurdle to overcome, to be avoided if possible. Yet difficulties cause us to grow, to evolve, to become better people. Perhaps the only thing that can console us during such times is our mentality. The question we should ask isn’t “why me?” but rather “what can I learn from this, and how can I grow from it?”. It’s easier said than done, but growth usually comes with a steep price.
If change is such a primal force and humans claim to possess free will, is it possible to choose not to change? The very act of choosing not to change already alters us, because previously, we did not have that sort of mindset. But philosophical babblings aside, does our inability to resist change limit our free will? Actually, there is a way to resist change, and many people take this recourse. When adversity strikes them, they give up instead of adapting to the situation. It’s called suicide. Disregarding the metaphysical and the afterlife, death has a certain finality. A corpse can’t change his or her views: it’s already locked in place at the time of death. Your body can rot and decay but your mind ceases to change. When the Japanese executed St. Lorenzo Ruiz, did they continue to abuse the corpse? Probably not, because you can’t convert a dead man. His faith and belief had already been established. They could have killed Ruiz’s family, city, and nation, but that means nothing to a dead man, and would not convert him to their beliefs. In death, our body undergoes one last transformation, and then everything else ceases. Perhaps the last act of someone who commits suicide is not to be free from this world, but rather to be free from change and the circumstances that cause it.
If death is the opposite of change, what does that tell us about life? It’s easy to perceive people, places, beliefs, and ideologies as static entities, when in reality, the only thing constant about them is that they are in a state of flux.
What is change? Is it good or bad? In theory, it could be either one, or sometimes, both. Yet within each human being is a desire to remain as is, to resist change, even if it’s for the better. It’s a perfectly natural tendency. When there is a lack of change, there are no surprises. Everything goes as predicted, and it’s easy to succumb to complacency and comfort. Unfortunately, this also breeds stagnation, and we stop growing, stop evolving into a better person. Change might be the logical choice, but fear of the unknown usually gets the better of us. “Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t know” is an obvious cliché that results from this mentality.
In reality, change is inevitable. Even the most ardent of resistors will change. Time will age us, cause us to develop new habits, or alter old ones. Yet it is possible to slow down its progress. In that, the most adamant succeed. Change over the physical body, we have little control of. Change over our minds, we have considerable power over. Not total control, mind you, but nonetheless a considerable sum. Take for example the story of Filipino saint, Lorenzo Ruiz. At the hands of his foreign captors, he was asked to renounce his faith in God. No matter what form of coercion they employed, no matter what form of torture they practiced, he did not relent. Lorenzo Ruiz died a Christian. Did they succeed in battering his body? Yes. Were they successful in changing his belief and perspective? No. Yet even if St. Lorenzo Ruiz survived that ordeal and was set free, there would have been a part of his mind that would have been changed. It might have been the trauma of being tortured, or perhaps the shock at seeing his companions suffer. His faith in God might have remained, but there are other aspects of his mind that could have been altered, irregardless of whether he’s conscious of it or not.
There are two ways to change: voluntarily, or involuntarily. The latter is perceived as undesirable, sometimes even evil. For example, when a hurricane hits your home and transforms your life into a pauper, we see that as a curse. Or perhaps when a girlfriend or boyfriend asks you to change this certain quality of yours, we still consider it an involuntary change because it did not stem from our own initiative. Compare that to a person who suddenly decides he or she wants to change for the better. It might be a realization that he or she should live a healthy life, hence exercising daily from that point on. But is such a dichotomy valid, that voluntarily change is always good, and involuntary change bad?
In truth, it all boils down to two factors: foresight and pride. If a man suddenly wins the lottery, does he curse the fates for giving him such an unexpected windfall? Foresight tells him that it’s a good thing, so he takes pleasure in such an occasion, even if the circumstances behind it was involuntary. But human foresight is not infinite, and a few years later, the same man might find himself living a lonely and horrible life, thanks to the familial squabbles such riches brought him. Or take a detrimental occasion, such as losing your job. One immediately thinks that it’s a bad thing, that getting fired is far from an auspicious circumstance. You might curse your employer and fellow employees when that happens, but a few years later, look back at it and think that it’s the best thing that ever happened to you, especially when a bigger company hires you for your now-available expertise, or paves the way for you to start your own business. In either scenario, we lacked the foresight to recognize if it’s a good or a bad thing, and simply assume the immediate repercussions.
But what about pride? Well, some people take comfort that their decisions are voluntary, whether it reaps rewards or ruin. As much as we decide to do what’s good and right, we also decide to do things that are detrimental not only to ourselves but to our society as well. For example, our vices are our own choices, whether it’s drinking or smoking. I could easy think one day that hey, I should start smoking. And this perpetuates until the end of my life. Health-wise, it’s not the smartest thing to do, but we condone such a habit because it was ours to begin with. Compare that to our parents or doctor ordering us to eat our vegetables. While eating vegetables is a healthy option, we resent doing so, not just because of the taste, but the fact that doing so wasn’t our decision or that someone else was compelling us. This kind of mentality is magnified when a part of us changes due to someone we have a dark past with. It might be a former employer, a previous lover, a relative we’ve quarreled with, or a friend turned nemesis. For example, when living with your girlfriend, you might have had to give up a bad habit like smoking, or learned a new skill like cooking. When you break up with her, there’s a desire to rebel, as if to assert your own individuality, or to scorn the other person. You start smoking again, especially when you encounter your ex, or perhaps you never turn on the stove again, for it brings back too many memories. In this case, we reverted to our old selves due to a conscious choice that traces its roots to pride.
Of course I’m not saying that as long as the end-results are good, it shouldn’t matter whether the cause was voluntary or involuntary. People can typically be classified under one of two categories: those who act, and those who react. The latter are more likely to respond to involuntary change. When unpleasant circumstances hit them, that’s the only time they grow. That’s not to say that’s entirely bad: some reactive people, when encountering a disaster, might be so determined that they turn a disadvantage into an advantage. When a typhoon hits their home, he or she rebuilds the entire city. The other type of person builds things out of their own initiative: they don’t wait for favorable conditions, but instead start working now. They change irregardless of the current circumstance.
People usually fall somewhere between the two: I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s purely voluntary. Unfortunately, meeting someone who’s perpetually involuntary is a possibility. Perhaps the problem with being involuntary is the fact that you wait for an external stimulus for you to change. You might be good at coping with crisis, but if it never arrives, then you’ll never grow as well. Of course a voluntary person can learn a thing or two from the involuntary person as well. Conditions, after all, are dynamic and ever-changing. One needs to adapt to the situation if one were to succeed, and in the endeavors that a voluntary person will start, those types of encounters cannot be avoided.
A voluntary person, however, has one important quality that needs to be respected. He or she has pride. And make no mistake, while pride can get in the way of getting the job done, pride is what gives us our dignity and our humanity. Do I really want to live a life where everything I accomplish or do is dictated by someone else? Voluntary people change because it is their decision to do so, but taken to the extreme, are the types that will claim “I will change for no one except myself”. Hence healthy doses of being voluntary and involuntary is needed. A person will grow, sometimes by their own choices, and sometimes by uncontrolled events.
Change is honestly a difficult concept to embrace. If you observe most people’s lives, growth is usually achieved when adversity is encountered. And I don’t think I’ve met anyone who asks for problems. Even the most voluntary of people, who for example might start up their own business, will not look forward to the trials he or she will face. They merely see it as a hurdle to overcome, to be avoided if possible. Yet difficulties cause us to grow, to evolve, to become better people. Perhaps the only thing that can console us during such times is our mentality. The question we should ask isn’t “why me?” but rather “what can I learn from this, and how can I grow from it?”. It’s easier said than done, but growth usually comes with a steep price.
If change is such a primal force and humans claim to possess free will, is it possible to choose not to change? The very act of choosing not to change already alters us, because previously, we did not have that sort of mindset. But philosophical babblings aside, does our inability to resist change limit our free will? Actually, there is a way to resist change, and many people take this recourse. When adversity strikes them, they give up instead of adapting to the situation. It’s called suicide. Disregarding the metaphysical and the afterlife, death has a certain finality. A corpse can’t change his or her views: it’s already locked in place at the time of death. Your body can rot and decay but your mind ceases to change. When the Japanese executed St. Lorenzo Ruiz, did they continue to abuse the corpse? Probably not, because you can’t convert a dead man. His faith and belief had already been established. They could have killed Ruiz’s family, city, and nation, but that means nothing to a dead man, and would not convert him to their beliefs. In death, our body undergoes one last transformation, and then everything else ceases. Perhaps the last act of someone who commits suicide is not to be free from this world, but rather to be free from change and the circumstances that cause it.
If death is the opposite of change, what does that tell us about life? It’s easy to perceive people, places, beliefs, and ideologies as static entities, when in reality, the only thing constant about them is that they are in a state of flux.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
[Essay] The Art of Book Reviews: It’s Not As Easy As It Looks
Not so long ago, I thought that my ideal job would be that of a book reviewer; doing nothing but read books all day, and then write reviews on them. That wish never came true, and even if it did, it would probably be less than perfect.
For example, my reading taste revolves around a certain genre: namely fantasy and science-fiction. I imagine that there are two extremes a book reviewer will face: either he gets to choose which books he wants to review, or he gets whatever is thrown his way, either by the publisher or the publication he’s working for. In the case of the former, it’s not a problem for the reviewer, but it might be for his readers, because the subject matter he tackles revolves around a small niche, and might end up writing derivative reviews. As for the latter, the reviewer might have more variety, but there’s a good chance he’ll be reading a lot of horrible books. And unlike the casual reader who can simply put down a novel that doesn’t interest them, you have to plough through the book from beginning to end. It’s like Simon from American Idol forcing himself to listen to William Hung for one full hour, just to be sure that Hung really is that horrible, and to what extent.
Assuming a book reviewer manages to balance his book choices, the next question he faces is how many books he will review. Theoretically, the more books he can cover, the better. Unlike other forms of media which has a set number of pages or a fixed time, books not only come in all shapes and sizes, they come in various thickness and font sizes as well. A music album release, for example, takes around an hour, while watching a movie two hours (Lord of the Rings, Dances with Wolves, and JFK being the exception). Reading a book, however, has no definite time (unless you’re talking of audio books). Readers read at their own pace, and allot different hours for reading them. One of the worst questions I encounter (and I get this often) is how long does it take me to finish reading a book. If they want a specific answer, they’ll have to give me a specific book. Children’s books (but remember, there are various kinds of children’s books) take me around a few hours to finish. Paperbacks in the 300-400 pages count take me a day or two. Mammoth books with page counts amounting to four digits takes me longer. Content also plays a significant role. Does the book contain pictures, and how much? Is the language simple, or is it as complex as reading James Joyce’s Ulysses? Are the paragraphs long, or are they broken down into shorter segments? One has to realize that no books are identical, although some books share similarities with others, especially books by the same author (but that’s as far as it goes).
Once again, we go back to the number of books a person is capable of reviewing. It all depends on the person’s capability, and what kind of books he’s reviewing. An adult novel or two for me is okay. Anything more than that depends on my passion and availability. I mean is doing book reviews feeding me and my family? If so, I can probably afford to drop everything else, and start reading for the first three weeks of the month, and then churn out the reviews at the last. If not, then what can I accommodate into my schedule, taking into account work, recreation, and my social life.
Then there’s the actual review writing. The first thing every reviewer should ask is who their audience is. Am I writing the review for fiction aficionados? Or the casual reader? Kids? Perhaps even the non-reader. This will take into account your writing style, and how you will tackle your subject matter. As a fantasy reader, for example, if my audience are fantasy fans, then I can drop multiple allusions to other fantasy work and/or writers into my review. If not, then It’s probably better for me to stick to something more mainstream when it comes to name dropping.
Knowing your audience also helps the reviewer answer this one important question: to spoil or not to spoil? Many people who read book reviews will be irked if they read a review that has spoilers, especially when unwarned. However, giving out spoilers is sometimes inevitable, as reviewers need to mention something about the book in order to review it; one should just be wary to what extent he spoils the reader. Readers who’ve already read the book obviously will not care about the spoilers, but instead appreciate it as the reviewer can go more into detail about what’s good or what’s wrong with the book, and can cite the specific circumstance. So on one end, spoilers can alienate the casual reader, but gives the reviewer more tools to work with. On the other, a reviewer can limit the spoilers he reveals, but has to be more general in his review of the novel.
What do I mean by limiting spoilers? Well, the book summaries at the back of books already do spoil readers, as they sometimes mention the plot of the book or the premise. There are even rare circumstances when book cover summaries actually spoil the main gist of the story (hint to readers: never read back covers if you want to fully enjoy the reading experience!). Book reviewers might want to start from there. Of course there’s no set rule, and reviewers will debate with themselves what to include and what not to. Should I name the person that gets killed, or simply let it be known that a character dies? Should I tell that the book’s plot is really about this, or should I let the reader discover it for themselves? Obviously, if a reviewer doesn’t mind giving out spoilers, he doesn’t have to ponder on these unnecessary decisions, and just write the best review he can come up with, mentioning all the elements he thinks are important. And in that sense, the best book review is perhaps one that contains spoilers, because the reviewer doesn’t need to hold himself back. However, the best book reviews aren’t always what readers are looking for, and simply need a nudge whether to buy this book or not.
In the end though, what makes a book review work or not is the sensibilities of both the reviewer and the reader. If there’s a huge disparity in their preferences, no matter how much the reviewer recommends the book, or how well-written the review is, the reader might just end up disappointed. The problem isn’t with the reviewer but with the reader: what the reader needs to do is look for a book reviewer whose tastes are similar to theirs. Thus a favorable review will elicit positive reactions from the reader. There’s no secret formula for readers to know which book reviewers are for them. Sometimes, you get a hint from their reviews, but more often than not, it’s a hit-or-miss thing, and the only way to know is to pick up a book they recommend (or not recommend).
For example, my reading taste revolves around a certain genre: namely fantasy and science-fiction. I imagine that there are two extremes a book reviewer will face: either he gets to choose which books he wants to review, or he gets whatever is thrown his way, either by the publisher or the publication he’s working for. In the case of the former, it’s not a problem for the reviewer, but it might be for his readers, because the subject matter he tackles revolves around a small niche, and might end up writing derivative reviews. As for the latter, the reviewer might have more variety, but there’s a good chance he’ll be reading a lot of horrible books. And unlike the casual reader who can simply put down a novel that doesn’t interest them, you have to plough through the book from beginning to end. It’s like Simon from American Idol forcing himself to listen to William Hung for one full hour, just to be sure that Hung really is that horrible, and to what extent.
Assuming a book reviewer manages to balance his book choices, the next question he faces is how many books he will review. Theoretically, the more books he can cover, the better. Unlike other forms of media which has a set number of pages or a fixed time, books not only come in all shapes and sizes, they come in various thickness and font sizes as well. A music album release, for example, takes around an hour, while watching a movie two hours (Lord of the Rings, Dances with Wolves, and JFK being the exception). Reading a book, however, has no definite time (unless you’re talking of audio books). Readers read at their own pace, and allot different hours for reading them. One of the worst questions I encounter (and I get this often) is how long does it take me to finish reading a book. If they want a specific answer, they’ll have to give me a specific book. Children’s books (but remember, there are various kinds of children’s books) take me around a few hours to finish. Paperbacks in the 300-400 pages count take me a day or two. Mammoth books with page counts amounting to four digits takes me longer. Content also plays a significant role. Does the book contain pictures, and how much? Is the language simple, or is it as complex as reading James Joyce’s Ulysses? Are the paragraphs long, or are they broken down into shorter segments? One has to realize that no books are identical, although some books share similarities with others, especially books by the same author (but that’s as far as it goes).
Once again, we go back to the number of books a person is capable of reviewing. It all depends on the person’s capability, and what kind of books he’s reviewing. An adult novel or two for me is okay. Anything more than that depends on my passion and availability. I mean is doing book reviews feeding me and my family? If so, I can probably afford to drop everything else, and start reading for the first three weeks of the month, and then churn out the reviews at the last. If not, then what can I accommodate into my schedule, taking into account work, recreation, and my social life.
Then there’s the actual review writing. The first thing every reviewer should ask is who their audience is. Am I writing the review for fiction aficionados? Or the casual reader? Kids? Perhaps even the non-reader. This will take into account your writing style, and how you will tackle your subject matter. As a fantasy reader, for example, if my audience are fantasy fans, then I can drop multiple allusions to other fantasy work and/or writers into my review. If not, then It’s probably better for me to stick to something more mainstream when it comes to name dropping.
Knowing your audience also helps the reviewer answer this one important question: to spoil or not to spoil? Many people who read book reviews will be irked if they read a review that has spoilers, especially when unwarned. However, giving out spoilers is sometimes inevitable, as reviewers need to mention something about the book in order to review it; one should just be wary to what extent he spoils the reader. Readers who’ve already read the book obviously will not care about the spoilers, but instead appreciate it as the reviewer can go more into detail about what’s good or what’s wrong with the book, and can cite the specific circumstance. So on one end, spoilers can alienate the casual reader, but gives the reviewer more tools to work with. On the other, a reviewer can limit the spoilers he reveals, but has to be more general in his review of the novel.
What do I mean by limiting spoilers? Well, the book summaries at the back of books already do spoil readers, as they sometimes mention the plot of the book or the premise. There are even rare circumstances when book cover summaries actually spoil the main gist of the story (hint to readers: never read back covers if you want to fully enjoy the reading experience!). Book reviewers might want to start from there. Of course there’s no set rule, and reviewers will debate with themselves what to include and what not to. Should I name the person that gets killed, or simply let it be known that a character dies? Should I tell that the book’s plot is really about this, or should I let the reader discover it for themselves? Obviously, if a reviewer doesn’t mind giving out spoilers, he doesn’t have to ponder on these unnecessary decisions, and just write the best review he can come up with, mentioning all the elements he thinks are important. And in that sense, the best book review is perhaps one that contains spoilers, because the reviewer doesn’t need to hold himself back. However, the best book reviews aren’t always what readers are looking for, and simply need a nudge whether to buy this book or not.
In the end though, what makes a book review work or not is the sensibilities of both the reviewer and the reader. If there’s a huge disparity in their preferences, no matter how much the reviewer recommends the book, or how well-written the review is, the reader might just end up disappointed. The problem isn’t with the reviewer but with the reader: what the reader needs to do is look for a book reviewer whose tastes are similar to theirs. Thus a favorable review will elicit positive reactions from the reader. There’s no secret formula for readers to know which book reviewers are for them. Sometimes, you get a hint from their reviews, but more often than not, it’s a hit-or-miss thing, and the only way to know is to pick up a book they recommend (or not recommend).
Monday, September 12, 2005
[Essay] Justice
Perhaps it’s because I live in a third-world country, but the word justice often comes up, and in various contexts. It could mean food for the hungry, jobs for the unemployed, fair wages for the masses, or simply punishing the unjust. The last point I want to expound on. In media, in literature, and in real life, the lines between justice and revenge (or vengeance, if you prefer) is blurred. If we want someone punished, we cry out for justice. If there’s a mass-murderer out there, we seek his capture so that he may be sentenced to death. And you know, that kind of reaction is natural, human nature. It’s as reflexive as kicking when the doctor taps you kneecap. Many supporters of this kind of belief will usually favor the Old Testament, quoting the passages of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Turning your other cheek is so unnatural that it’s what makes Christian doctrine so progressive for its time. Yet for all the beliefs that the Bible instills in its followers, people still clamor for revenge in the guise of justice. But is this what rational, enlightened people should ask, let alone a just and merciful deity should condone?
Throughout grade school and high school, I’m the kid that gets pushed around, a prime target of the bullies. In my eyes, if there’s anyone who should seek deific vengeance, it’s me, one of the oppressed. Some people might even carry bitter feelings inside them even if such incidents were a decade old. Fortunately, I’m not one of them. Perhaps the day I was converted to another kind of belief was when I met one of the people who bullied me. He approached me as a friend rather than an oppressor. He was asking if he could borrow some money for me, nothing large, just a few coins. While I suspected a part of the act was a farce, he didn’t retaliate when I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He merely thanked me and walked away. And over the course of many years, I’d meet people who were once the bullies, the guys on top, live reformed lives. This experience rather than Biblical text is perhaps what showed me that there’s something better than punishment.
Theoretically, reformation is something our society strives for. The reason we put criminals in jail is so that they can know the consequences of their actions and change for the better. Whether it’s effective or not (or even appropriate, as anyone who’s watched or read Les Miserables will know) is an entirely different matter. Yet when a crime is committed and the criminal is apprehended, society clamors the convict to be jailed, not because they hope that he or she will be converted, but in order to be punished. Once again, this is the normal human reaction. When someone kills one of your loved ones, steals your hard-earned money, or threatens your life, the immediate reaction is to strike back. I must admit, there’s a certain sense of satisfaction in that. But in such a scenario, I think of the future and realize that at best, what we’ve managed to accomplish is only to rid the world of one less human being. To some people, that’s not so bad. But if you think about it, there’s actually something better.
Don’t you have a friend who was once a bully? Or perhaps someone who was very unlikable, but changed and is now one of your good buddies. It could easily have been a rival, an enemy, or simply someone who gave a wrong first impression. Despite all their faults, they’re your friends now. Let’s assume that you didn’t change, and that it was they who started acting differently. Wouldn’t you have someone, despite (or perhaps because of) their horrible past, be your friend in the present? The alternative of course is that they’d be jailed up somewhere, never to see the light of day. Or worse, sentenced to the death penalty. It’s simple math: zero, or something. Yet many of us prefer the former, thinking that revenge would be sweeter, or that the person would never change for the better. With regards to reformation, you never know unless you give the person a chance. It might not be something you can change in him or her, but circumstances have ways of altering a person, whether for good or ill. As for revenge, well, some do develop a taste for it. To me, it’s just a precious waste of resources. What rules us when it comes to revenge isn’t our intellect, but our appetite. While following our appetite when it comes to food is okay, it’s another thing when it comes to human life.
Let me take things to another level. A friend of mine once told me that she thinks in the afterlife, God will punish the unjust, even if they’ve been converted. She reasons that if that weren’t the case, what happens to the rest who’ve been good all their life? She and I agree on one point though: we don’t know how God will behave. God is, after all, the most justice and good character we can imagine. In this case, my friend believes that God will mete our justice. I don’t, at least not to those who are reformed. Admittedly, a part of me wants to see people punished. As my friend said, what happens to the rest of us who’ve been good the entire time? Where’s the justice in that? But that’s not the rational part of me speaking. An enlightened person would think things through. I mean honestly, if you used to be the most horrible person, and then you genuinely decided to be good, your past is enough to haunt you for the rest of your life. Punishing you in the afterlife is like giving medication to a person who’s cured. Not only is it inappropriate, it’s causing unnecessary pain. Sure, if the person wasn’t sincere in their reformation, go ahead and punish them. But punishing a good person because of their past is as fair as punishing the son for the sins of the father (that’s not to say that the guilty shouldn’t be punished; they have to live with the consequences, but they can expect forgiveness from the merciful).
If that was the case, some of you might be asking, what about the people who’ve been good all their lives? Would their rewards be the same in my vision of an utopian society? Well, there’s the parable of the Prodigal Son. The elder brother, the one who didn’t run away and stayed, asks his father the same question. What about me? There was forgiveness for the Prodigal Son, and the older brother’s initial reaction was where’s the justice in that? God’s answer to him was that he’ll inherit everything He’s built up so far. But in concrete terms, what is that? Well to me, at the very least, the people who’ve lived good lives won’t be bothered by their conscience. I mean if I was a criminal, for example, who eventually reformed, no matter what I do in the present, I’ll still be mentally haunted by my past. Because I can never undo my crimes, and whatever wrong I did to other people will linger in my mind. Call it whatever you want, be it trauma, nightmares, or guilt. If I truly lived my life as holy as I make it out to be, then I won’t have that burden, even if my final fate is the same as the converted.
Before I end, I’d like to point out that no one lives a pure and good life. We’ve all made mistakes, and aren’t we grateful for those who gave us a second, or even a third chance in life? We might not have committed crimes, but we have performed unjust acts. Whether it’s something mortal or venial, there’s always a chance for reformation, for change. The one thing I dislike about death is that it halts change. A dead prisoner can’t be enlightened and ask for penitence, at least not in this life. And for those who judge others in light of their own righteousness, well, it’ll be ironic if God sentenced you to the same punishments you’ve been clamoring for in others.
Throughout grade school and high school, I’m the kid that gets pushed around, a prime target of the bullies. In my eyes, if there’s anyone who should seek deific vengeance, it’s me, one of the oppressed. Some people might even carry bitter feelings inside them even if such incidents were a decade old. Fortunately, I’m not one of them. Perhaps the day I was converted to another kind of belief was when I met one of the people who bullied me. He approached me as a friend rather than an oppressor. He was asking if he could borrow some money for me, nothing large, just a few coins. While I suspected a part of the act was a farce, he didn’t retaliate when I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He merely thanked me and walked away. And over the course of many years, I’d meet people who were once the bullies, the guys on top, live reformed lives. This experience rather than Biblical text is perhaps what showed me that there’s something better than punishment.
Theoretically, reformation is something our society strives for. The reason we put criminals in jail is so that they can know the consequences of their actions and change for the better. Whether it’s effective or not (or even appropriate, as anyone who’s watched or read Les Miserables will know) is an entirely different matter. Yet when a crime is committed and the criminal is apprehended, society clamors the convict to be jailed, not because they hope that he or she will be converted, but in order to be punished. Once again, this is the normal human reaction. When someone kills one of your loved ones, steals your hard-earned money, or threatens your life, the immediate reaction is to strike back. I must admit, there’s a certain sense of satisfaction in that. But in such a scenario, I think of the future and realize that at best, what we’ve managed to accomplish is only to rid the world of one less human being. To some people, that’s not so bad. But if you think about it, there’s actually something better.
Don’t you have a friend who was once a bully? Or perhaps someone who was very unlikable, but changed and is now one of your good buddies. It could easily have been a rival, an enemy, or simply someone who gave a wrong first impression. Despite all their faults, they’re your friends now. Let’s assume that you didn’t change, and that it was they who started acting differently. Wouldn’t you have someone, despite (or perhaps because of) their horrible past, be your friend in the present? The alternative of course is that they’d be jailed up somewhere, never to see the light of day. Or worse, sentenced to the death penalty. It’s simple math: zero, or something. Yet many of us prefer the former, thinking that revenge would be sweeter, or that the person would never change for the better. With regards to reformation, you never know unless you give the person a chance. It might not be something you can change in him or her, but circumstances have ways of altering a person, whether for good or ill. As for revenge, well, some do develop a taste for it. To me, it’s just a precious waste of resources. What rules us when it comes to revenge isn’t our intellect, but our appetite. While following our appetite when it comes to food is okay, it’s another thing when it comes to human life.
Let me take things to another level. A friend of mine once told me that she thinks in the afterlife, God will punish the unjust, even if they’ve been converted. She reasons that if that weren’t the case, what happens to the rest who’ve been good all their life? She and I agree on one point though: we don’t know how God will behave. God is, after all, the most justice and good character we can imagine. In this case, my friend believes that God will mete our justice. I don’t, at least not to those who are reformed. Admittedly, a part of me wants to see people punished. As my friend said, what happens to the rest of us who’ve been good the entire time? Where’s the justice in that? But that’s not the rational part of me speaking. An enlightened person would think things through. I mean honestly, if you used to be the most horrible person, and then you genuinely decided to be good, your past is enough to haunt you for the rest of your life. Punishing you in the afterlife is like giving medication to a person who’s cured. Not only is it inappropriate, it’s causing unnecessary pain. Sure, if the person wasn’t sincere in their reformation, go ahead and punish them. But punishing a good person because of their past is as fair as punishing the son for the sins of the father (that’s not to say that the guilty shouldn’t be punished; they have to live with the consequences, but they can expect forgiveness from the merciful).
If that was the case, some of you might be asking, what about the people who’ve been good all their lives? Would their rewards be the same in my vision of an utopian society? Well, there’s the parable of the Prodigal Son. The elder brother, the one who didn’t run away and stayed, asks his father the same question. What about me? There was forgiveness for the Prodigal Son, and the older brother’s initial reaction was where’s the justice in that? God’s answer to him was that he’ll inherit everything He’s built up so far. But in concrete terms, what is that? Well to me, at the very least, the people who’ve lived good lives won’t be bothered by their conscience. I mean if I was a criminal, for example, who eventually reformed, no matter what I do in the present, I’ll still be mentally haunted by my past. Because I can never undo my crimes, and whatever wrong I did to other people will linger in my mind. Call it whatever you want, be it trauma, nightmares, or guilt. If I truly lived my life as holy as I make it out to be, then I won’t have that burden, even if my final fate is the same as the converted.
Before I end, I’d like to point out that no one lives a pure and good life. We’ve all made mistakes, and aren’t we grateful for those who gave us a second, or even a third chance in life? We might not have committed crimes, but we have performed unjust acts. Whether it’s something mortal or venial, there’s always a chance for reformation, for change. The one thing I dislike about death is that it halts change. A dead prisoner can’t be enlightened and ask for penitence, at least not in this life. And for those who judge others in light of their own righteousness, well, it’ll be ironic if God sentenced you to the same punishments you’ve been clamoring for in others.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
[Essay] True Pain, True Suffering
One thing we’re all acquainted with is suffering. Yet despite knowing the fact that it’s unavoidable in life, we attempt to evade it, and when we get hurt, it’s as if we’ve experienced it for the first time. Just take a look at heartbreaks, or grieving a loved one, or perhaps losing a part of your body. No matter how many times it’s recurred before, it’ll always be a fresh wound once when we’ve experienced it again. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that memory, or lack of it, blunts the trauma. Yet there are actually two things that many people fail to recognize.
The first is that the crisis is not the most painful part we can experience. It can be breaking up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, failing an important exam, losing a limb to an accident, or sudden bankruptcy in your business. Many will attribute loss to that particular event. “It was the saddest moment in my life,” one might say. But it’s also the briefest, which is also why we might cling to that particular memory, playing it over and over in our minds, as if we could mend the mistake we make, despite loathing it and preferring not to dwell on it. We are, by our very nature, illogical and contradictory after all. Yet if we came face to face with the facts, what’s truly terrifying is not the present but the future.
A man who breaks up with his fiancé might cry and feel depressed on the eve of their separation, but what haunts him is the events to come. It’s in the days that follow where he is plagued by nightmares, dreaming about his lonely life, or worse, the past or what-ifs he could have had. It’s in the post-crisis period where he dwells on how there’s no one he can share his life with, or how he might not be as lucky the next time and find someone who enjoys his companionship. The same goes for anyone else who experiences a disastrous event in their lives, such as an earthquake or a typhoon. It’s not during the earthquake that you’re most distressed, but rather later on, when it’s all over, and you have to start picking up the pieces. Emotionally, it’s a lot less to handle because there’s no time pressure, no immediate need to resolve things. But in truth, it’s also the most difficult, because it’s when you come face to face with your own feelings, and realize that it’s not going to be over as quickly.
If there was an explosion and I died, it really wouldn’t be a problem because I had a quick death. However, if I somehow managed to survive, and find out that I lost an arm in the process, that would simply be horrible. When I’m in the hospital bed, I’ll be thinking of my future, how I’ll live life with one less arm. Sure, I’ll channel my anger and disappointment at that one point in time, during the explosion, but you know what, that event’s done and over with. It’s the difficulties in finding employment, or losing sex appeal, or simply not being able to eat with a fork and a spoon that’ll haunt me for the rest of my days. When I fall down, it hurts, but finding the strength to get back up hurts even more. It’s the only way we’ll survive or cope but hey, it’s not a pretty sight.
The second item many people don’t recognize is that we fear pain and suffering not simply for the emotions themselves, but because they bring about one important aspect: change. The truth of the matter is, complacency is lack of change. It’s being able to predict what’s going to happen tomorrow, of being in control, of living life in the way you expect it. Any form of crisis wrecks your plans. A couple to divorces, for example, have come to live a life they’re previously familiar with. Now, it’s an entirely new game, and they’re suddenly lost as everything seems strange and new again. Honestly, no one wants to start out fresh. In Monopoly, it’s like starting with zero dollars and zero property, while everyone else has their cache of money and hotels.
If an accident suddenly befalls me, it’s painful not just because of the actual sensation of pain, but because of the changes I’ll have to make in my life. If someone close to you dies, the first thing you’ll notice is how he or she isn’t there anymore. Our point of reference will always be the past, which is something we already know and base our future assumptions on. We live life in a certain pattern, and we’ve grown comfortable with that particular lifestyle. Change wrecks that lifestyle, and it’s extremely uncomfortable to change habits, to live life in a way you never expected.
Perhaps that’s why we suffer most after the disastrous event. Because then, we have time to think of the consequences, to feel fear and be frightened. And we’re not frightened for the sake of being frightened, but at the fact that we have to change and adapt to the new circumstances. If we fail in that, it’ll lead to another trauma, thus causing an eternal loop of pain and suffering.
Some of you might be asking how do we stop this? The sad thing is that we can’t. It’s a cycle, and no matter how we avoid change, it always catches up to us. Except in death, and there I comfort in that because the results can be predicted: if I slit my wrist now, I’ll stop breathing, and I won’t have to face my problems anymore. Note that the problems haven’t been solved, merely made inaccessible. And death, in the end, has a certain finality to it because it resists change. When you’re dead, you can’t change the world anymore. Only your previous legacy and other people can do that for you. So is it really a big surprise that people find comfort in suicide?
The first is that the crisis is not the most painful part we can experience. It can be breaking up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, failing an important exam, losing a limb to an accident, or sudden bankruptcy in your business. Many will attribute loss to that particular event. “It was the saddest moment in my life,” one might say. But it’s also the briefest, which is also why we might cling to that particular memory, playing it over and over in our minds, as if we could mend the mistake we make, despite loathing it and preferring not to dwell on it. We are, by our very nature, illogical and contradictory after all. Yet if we came face to face with the facts, what’s truly terrifying is not the present but the future.
A man who breaks up with his fiancé might cry and feel depressed on the eve of their separation, but what haunts him is the events to come. It’s in the days that follow where he is plagued by nightmares, dreaming about his lonely life, or worse, the past or what-ifs he could have had. It’s in the post-crisis period where he dwells on how there’s no one he can share his life with, or how he might not be as lucky the next time and find someone who enjoys his companionship. The same goes for anyone else who experiences a disastrous event in their lives, such as an earthquake or a typhoon. It’s not during the earthquake that you’re most distressed, but rather later on, when it’s all over, and you have to start picking up the pieces. Emotionally, it’s a lot less to handle because there’s no time pressure, no immediate need to resolve things. But in truth, it’s also the most difficult, because it’s when you come face to face with your own feelings, and realize that it’s not going to be over as quickly.
If there was an explosion and I died, it really wouldn’t be a problem because I had a quick death. However, if I somehow managed to survive, and find out that I lost an arm in the process, that would simply be horrible. When I’m in the hospital bed, I’ll be thinking of my future, how I’ll live life with one less arm. Sure, I’ll channel my anger and disappointment at that one point in time, during the explosion, but you know what, that event’s done and over with. It’s the difficulties in finding employment, or losing sex appeal, or simply not being able to eat with a fork and a spoon that’ll haunt me for the rest of my days. When I fall down, it hurts, but finding the strength to get back up hurts even more. It’s the only way we’ll survive or cope but hey, it’s not a pretty sight.
The second item many people don’t recognize is that we fear pain and suffering not simply for the emotions themselves, but because they bring about one important aspect: change. The truth of the matter is, complacency is lack of change. It’s being able to predict what’s going to happen tomorrow, of being in control, of living life in the way you expect it. Any form of crisis wrecks your plans. A couple to divorces, for example, have come to live a life they’re previously familiar with. Now, it’s an entirely new game, and they’re suddenly lost as everything seems strange and new again. Honestly, no one wants to start out fresh. In Monopoly, it’s like starting with zero dollars and zero property, while everyone else has their cache of money and hotels.
If an accident suddenly befalls me, it’s painful not just because of the actual sensation of pain, but because of the changes I’ll have to make in my life. If someone close to you dies, the first thing you’ll notice is how he or she isn’t there anymore. Our point of reference will always be the past, which is something we already know and base our future assumptions on. We live life in a certain pattern, and we’ve grown comfortable with that particular lifestyle. Change wrecks that lifestyle, and it’s extremely uncomfortable to change habits, to live life in a way you never expected.
Perhaps that’s why we suffer most after the disastrous event. Because then, we have time to think of the consequences, to feel fear and be frightened. And we’re not frightened for the sake of being frightened, but at the fact that we have to change and adapt to the new circumstances. If we fail in that, it’ll lead to another trauma, thus causing an eternal loop of pain and suffering.
Some of you might be asking how do we stop this? The sad thing is that we can’t. It’s a cycle, and no matter how we avoid change, it always catches up to us. Except in death, and there I comfort in that because the results can be predicted: if I slit my wrist now, I’ll stop breathing, and I won’t have to face my problems anymore. Note that the problems haven’t been solved, merely made inaccessible. And death, in the end, has a certain finality to it because it resists change. When you’re dead, you can’t change the world anymore. Only your previous legacy and other people can do that for you. So is it really a big surprise that people find comfort in suicide?
Monday, September 05, 2005
[Essay] 52 Hours a Week
I used to work six and a half days a week. The pay wasn’t much, but I loved the atmosphere I was in. From 10 am to 6 pm, I was surrounded by anime paraphernalia and talked to customers who loved anime. After work, you’d think that a person like me would go to a bar or something, but all I did was go home, watch some anime, and chatted with friends via the Internet about anime. You’d think that after sixty non-stop days, I’d be burnt out but the fact of the matter was, the only thing I truly missed back then was my participation in Magic: The Gathering tournaments.
These days, working five days a week is already draining. So what happened? I simply grew and developed a lot of other interests. Not only am I just interested in anime, I have to juggle my reading time, my writing time, my gaming time, and my regular public service announcements in addition to work. And believe me, work these days is work.
I met a friend of mine, Richie, a few weeks ago. He’s had several years of experience working in various jobs and positions, and now he’s finally landed a career in what you’d think would be a dream job. I mean he loves gadgets and technological devices. He now writes for a magazine that deals with those kind of stuff. Yet because it’s his job to know about the latest stuff, it stops being a hobby. When you’re compelled to do something other than for the sheer fun of it, it starts being a duty.
Yet his story is not unique. Nor is it the rule. I have friends who’ve learned to hate their ideal job, because it’s draining the sheer fun out of the experience. But I also know people like Vin, one of the people who started Comic Quest, and he still retains his passion for comics despite being surrounded by comics day in and day out. Your experiences with work is a double-edged sword.
I mean personally, it’s because I’m deathly bored and stressed with my work that when I get home, I’m in a hurry to get things done, whether it’s reading, writing, or gaming. I wonder if I was in a job that incorporated all three, would there be less output from me, quality and quantity wise? But I also remember my days in Comic Alley, and perhaps the reason I was there everyday (aside from the fact that I had no social life) was because of my enthusiasm for my hobby.
We all react differently, depending on the situation. Perhaps the only real warning I can give people is be careful what you wish for. Or as my Christian faith would say, be grateful that God doesn’t give you what you want, but what you need.
These days, working five days a week is already draining. So what happened? I simply grew and developed a lot of other interests. Not only am I just interested in anime, I have to juggle my reading time, my writing time, my gaming time, and my regular public service announcements in addition to work. And believe me, work these days is work.
I met a friend of mine, Richie, a few weeks ago. He’s had several years of experience working in various jobs and positions, and now he’s finally landed a career in what you’d think would be a dream job. I mean he loves gadgets and technological devices. He now writes for a magazine that deals with those kind of stuff. Yet because it’s his job to know about the latest stuff, it stops being a hobby. When you’re compelled to do something other than for the sheer fun of it, it starts being a duty.
Yet his story is not unique. Nor is it the rule. I have friends who’ve learned to hate their ideal job, because it’s draining the sheer fun out of the experience. But I also know people like Vin, one of the people who started Comic Quest, and he still retains his passion for comics despite being surrounded by comics day in and day out. Your experiences with work is a double-edged sword.
I mean personally, it’s because I’m deathly bored and stressed with my work that when I get home, I’m in a hurry to get things done, whether it’s reading, writing, or gaming. I wonder if I was in a job that incorporated all three, would there be less output from me, quality and quantity wise? But I also remember my days in Comic Alley, and perhaps the reason I was there everyday (aside from the fact that I had no social life) was because of my enthusiasm for my hobby.
We all react differently, depending on the situation. Perhaps the only real warning I can give people is be careful what you wish for. Or as my Christian faith would say, be grateful that God doesn’t give you what you want, but what you need.
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