I’ve been watching the growing debate over the proposed Park51 Islamic center in New York (referred to as the so-called “Ground Zero Mosque”, even though it’s not at Ground Zero and it’s not a mosque) for some time now. And I’ve noticed that recently it’s begun to look as though, once again, we’re going to be compromising on civil rights in order to make an uncomfortable issue go away.
For example, President Obama first defended the right to build the center there, then backed off from the question of whether it should be built there. And now, New York governor David Paterson is now suggesting it should be built further from the World Trade Center site–in the name of compromise, of course.
I have a question: How far is far enough? Just what distance from the site would the center have to relocate to in order to make everyone comfortable? A mile? Two? A hundred?
Perhaps the opponents of the center would be so good as to draw us a map, showing the exact perimeter of the exclusion zone around the WTC. That would help.
Oh, wait. There’s already a mosque four blocks away, and it’s been there forever. Who knows what they’re getting up to in there. I guess they’ll have to move too.
In fact, while we’re at it, no Muslims should be allowed to live anywhere near, either. You never know, they might be practicing Islam in their homes. Can’t have that. Maybe we should just move them somewhere, so we can all be comfortable. I hear there’s a place called Manzanar that’s vacant at the moment.
After all, we can’t let a pesky thing like the First Amendment get in the way of everyone’s peace of mind, right?
As I’ve mentioned, I’m trying to get going again with my self-education in Chinese. Naturally, I’d like this to include learning to read the language–which, unlike languages that use alphabets, has a very clear distinction between learning to speak and learning to read.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I had the bright idea of helping myself learn to read Chinese by obtaining a Chinese translation of a book I knew really well. If I already knew what a passage meant, I could then focus on how they got there, right?
And so, after a bit of poking around on Amazon.cn, I found what I was looking for.
This is a Chinese edition of The Hobbit, probably the book I know better than any other. It arrived today, and already I can tell that it’s going to be a great deal of fun to work with. I can already recognize some passages just from the sentence structure, even if I can’t read the characters. (For example, the title of this post is the translation of the book’s famous first line, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”)
And over and above the practical use, it’s rather an interesting item to look at. Should make for quite a conversation piece.
Now, I wonder how they dealt with the riddles. . . .
Perhaps you’ve seen this:
I’m not going to say anything about whether the photo was appropriate; frankly, I don’t have much of a problem with it. But I do have a problem with how it’s being used–particularly, that “if” in the headline.
Here’s the email I sent to Time about it. Pretty much says it all.
Re “Afghan Women and the Return of the Taliban”:
What infuriated me most about your August 9th cover wasn’t the photo, but the accompanying headline: “What Happens if We Leave Afghanistan”. This tragedy is happening now, not in some hypothetical nightmare future. The real story is that such atrocities are still going on, in the ninth year of the American occupation. Continuing our ineffectual war against the Taliban will not change that, and to exploit Aisha’s ruined face to argue otherwise borders on propaganda.
I usually don’t pay much attention to dishonesty in the mainstream media, because it’s so pervasive that it’s no longer surprising. But this was so egregious that I had to say something.
I don’t expect they’ll print it, but it felt good to vent.
A little over a month ago, the goddess of books and reading saw fit to give me word of the Great Ellison Book Purge, wherein the legendarily prickly science fiction author Harlan Ellison had seen fit to free up some storage space by selling off a wide variety of items from his personal collection.
Being a longtime devoted fan, I naturally wasn’t going to let this go without getting something. I obtained the brochure and studied it carefully, marveling at some of the truly extravagant items on offer–some of which were available at astonishingly low prices. (Two copies of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman: Book of Dreams, one from the ultra-rare first print run, and both signed by Gaiman to Ellison? And only $350?!?!? If only I’d had that much to spare. Sigh.) I made a few selections, prepared myself for speed-dial, and awaited the hour.
When I made it through, my first couple of choices were taken. However, my third was available, and as it turned out, I’m happier with it than I would have been with the others…
You have before you an absolutely pristine copy of the first hardcover printing of The Beast That Shouted Love at the Heart of the World, published in 1970. Apart from a 1969 Avon paperback mangled by an overzealous editor (and subsequently disowned by Ellison), this is a first edition. It spent the last 40 years in a box in Ellison’s house. (The plastic cover you see above was put on it by me, today.) Only $45, plus shipping.
Oh, and did I mention that personalization was included?
I have a fairly significant collection of signed SF first editions, but I’d really been wanting to get an Ellison. So this made me happy. It will have a place of honor.
But of course, it’s not going to just be sitting there. After all, I haven’t read most of the stories in it. So it’s also going to be read, as a good book should. (Yes, I know that reading harms the condition. I don’t care. I get books signed out of respect for the author, not as an investment.)
So pleased was I about the purchase, in fact, that I decided to get bold. While I had Susan on the phone, I asked if the good man might be willing to sign another book of his that I had. One thing led to another, and eventually this happened:
So overall, I’d say it was a most productive endeavor. Now, if only I can get a Greg Egan…
Have I ever mentioned what a complete and utter author whore I am?
I’ve just installed Twitter Tools for WordPress, and this post is intended to test it. If I’ve set it up right, it’ll automagically send out a tweet when I publish a post. Which means I won’t have to tweet manually to inform people. Labor-saving devices FTW!
Update: Huzzah, it worked. Just what I always wanted!
And now, so your time isn’t entirely wasted, the world’s cutest dog.
Here’s what I’m currently working on, for those who care (howdy to the both of you), in order of priority.
Those would appear to be the major ones. Minor ones include getting back into programming, reviewing my scientific math, and learning to play music. (I recently came across a piano course that, glory be and save us, actually worked. Once I get a full-size keyboard, this will move up in priority.)
This list contains more than I would like, and is not in the order that I would choose. But, as we well know, the universe is not obligated to conform to our desires and expectations. More’s the pity.
Update: Just realized that this post is distressingly similar to this one from just a couple of weeks ago. Not only am I whining about having too much going on, I’m repeating myself doing it. This is not good and must change.
Back in March, when I was first starting to learn Chinese, I realized early on that I wanted to make use of Chinese websites and social networks to help me learn the language. But I had a dilemma. What name to use? I use my real name pretty much everywhere online–I’ve hated cutesy handles for quite a while now–but I wanted something more appropriate for Chinese sites.
Often, Western students of Chinese receive a name early in their class, usually by choosing it with the help of the instructor; in business contexts, a name might be given by a Chinese-speaking colleague. This is because many Chinese have trouble using and remembering Western names, and also because it makes a useful exercise. But I don’t have an instructor, and so, if I wanted a Chinese name, I had to do it myself. And I quickly discovered that this is harder than you might expect, for several reasons.
First, Chinese names are structured very differently. A standard Chinese personal name consists of three characters. (There are variations–for example, some family names have two characters instead of one–but this is rare.) The first character is the family name, which for Westerners is usually drawn from the most common family names. The second is a generational name, which for native Chinese is typically the same for all children in a family in the same generation; these are chosen in advance by the family. And the third character is the true given name.
In addition to this, there is meaning to consider. In the West, we typically assign names with little thought to what the words mean; probably most people have no idea what the etymology and original meaning of their name was. (I happen to know mine; “Brian” is Celtic and means “noble”.) Chinese doesn’t work the same way; most names are made up of common words that are in wide use. So it’s very important to consider the meaning of the words when choosing a name. This is complicated by the fact that Chinese has so many homonyms; one needs to know not just what the potential name means, but all its sound-alikes as well.
Plus, numerology is important. Characters are assigned to yin or yang, depending on whether the number of strokes in the character is even or odd, and there are particular patterns of yin and yang that are favored. And, finally, there are several cultural factors and taboos; certain qualities are particular to men or women, names are supposed to be well-balanced soundwise and require few strokes to write, and while originality is valued, the name should still be made up of common words.
So, what to do? I spent a good deal of time doing research and reading everything I could find online about Chinese names. After much thinking, playing, reading, and gnashing of teeth, I came up with a name.
I am:
Or “ān bīn ruì”, also written An Binrui.
So, why these characters? Well, “ān bīn ruì” (high tone for the first two syllables, falling tone for the third) bears a little resemblance to Brian, and that’s good. Moreover:
The family name 安 (ān) is one of the 100 most common Chinese family names; it means “peaceful”, “tranquil”, or “quiet”, and also has connotations of stability, security, and honesty.
The generational name 彬 (bīn), meaning “cultivated”, reflects a respect for tradition. Also, its most common homonym, 宾, means “guest” or “visitor”, which reflects my outsider status within the culture.
(Incidentally, fans of anime will be interested to know that in Japanese, 彬 is pronounced “akira”. It has the same meaning as in Chinese.)
The given name 锐 (ruì) means “sharp”, and reflects intellect and wisdom. Besides applying well to me (heh), these are traditionally masculine qualities and are therefore appropriate for a male name. It also has a common homonym, 瑞, meaning “auspicious” or “lucky”, which is nice.
These are all common words that require few strokes to write, and the complete name is well-balanced between vowels and consonants. Also, thankfully, the name appears to be unique. I was unable to find any hits for it on Google or on its Chinese competitor Baidu. Uniqueness is very good.
I haven’t had a chance to check with a native Chinese speaker to find out if I messed up, but from everything I’ve read, I think I did okay. And I’ve been using the name on Baidu Space for four months now without comment–although I do intend to write a version of this post there to find out for certain.
So. I already had my Western name–actually, I’ve had two, since I took my spouse’s surname last year–as well as a Tibetan name (Tenzin Galpo) from a Buddhist teacher some years ago. And now I have a Chinese name as well. I wonder if I’ll be getting any more?
A perennial student, with an utterly insane variety of densely interconnected interests, carefully plotting his course through the Singularity.
