Dreaming in Code (review: 4.5/5)

“Software is a heap of trouble”. That’s the abridged version of this book.
You’ll find the full story in Scott Rosenberg‘s fantastic Dreaming in Code: Two Dozen Programmers, Three Years, 4,732 Bugs, and One Quest for Transcendent Software. One part of the tale follows the progress of the Open Source Applications Foundation project called Chandler; the other wends back through the history of computer science and software development. The story takes a good chunk of paper, around 350 pages + notes. None of it is terribly technical.

Chandler started with Mitch Kapor (known for Lotus 1-2-3, among other things) and the dream of the ultimate personal information organizer. E-mail, scheduling, calendars, notes, workgroup sharing & more, all in one cohesive and flexible system. In light of Rosenberg’s Law and its corollary (“Software is easy to make, except when you want it to do something new. And the only software that’s worth making is software that does something new.”), Chandler has proven a daunting task. It’s been over 4 years since Rosenberg started observing the OSAF team. As of this writing, Chandler is currently still only in version 0.7alpha4.

That creeping glacier of code raises the question: is it the team or just the nature of the job? Probably both. Rosenberg uses the hiccups and foibles of the OSAF team to explore some of the recurring issues of software development: the inherent mental difficulty of abstraction on a mass scale, the programmer’s tendency to “glance at existing code and declare authoritatively that they could do it themselves, faster, easier, and better,” the mythical man month, attempting progress without planning, the discouraging truth of Hofstadter’s Law, and the need to reinvent the wheel (and fire and stonecutting and agriculture, etc.). Luckily, Rosenberg doesn’t pose the Chandler team so much as the butt of the joke but the foil for the argument: software is hard.

One interesting thread in this book is the idea of programming as creative writing. Quoting Richard Gabriel:

We should train developers the way we train creative people like poets and artisits… What do people do when they’re being trained, for example, to get a master of fine arts in poetry? They study great works of poetry. Do we do that in our software engineering disciplines? No. You don’t look at the source code for great pieces of software. Or look at the architecture of great pieces of software. You don’t look at their design. You don’t study the lives of great software designers. So you don’t study the literature of the thing you’re trying to build.

The software industry doesn’t have a strong sense of history. Part of that lack is cultural—many just don’t care that much—and part of that is a necessary commercial evil whereby code is protected to protect profits. But I love that idea of the literature of software, the somewhat hidden heritage. This brings to mind the idea of artist qua collector and the idea of amassing influence. But for better or worse, there’s already way too much to learn just to keep up with the present. So the programmers plug on “borne back ceaselessly into the past,” if you’ll pardon the drama.

A Practical Handbook for the Boyfriend (review: 4/5)

The subtitle says it all, really: For Every Guy Who Wants to Be One/For Every Girl Who Wants to Build One. If you’ve ever been confused or frustrated by a female, you’ll probably find some help here. I was surprised by how much I liked this one. Felicity Huffman and Patricia Wolff managed to put together a book that’s both informative and legitimately hilarious. I can’t think of very many books that I’ve dog-eared more than this one. There are great lines throughout. For example…

  • A woman’s emotional checklist reads more like a Russian novel.
  • Love up her body the way you find it, or find a body that you can love up.
  • Any flat surface where people might perch, she will want to ‘pillowize’.
  • Can we please discuss that apr?®s-pee shaking?
  • The thing you do isn’t only the thing you do; it represents something else.
  • Guys seems able to carry a bigger load of irritants than we can… The BF shrugs, shakes his head, and files it under ‘Oh Well,’ that big category made up of a lot of manila folders, all of which are bulging and ripping at the seams.

The whole thing is written in this conversational tone, and it’s all pretty straightforward. I daresay females could learn a good bit as well. The authors don’t claim to have all the answers, and they don’t make a lot of apologies either. The whole book seems to square with real life. I had plenty of head-nodding, plenty of Aha! moments, and quite a bit of fun. Read this!

Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything (review: 2.5/5)

Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything was pretty much a disappointment. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it bad. I was just hoping for a less history and a more speculation. Unfortunately, if you’ve been paying a moderate amount of attention to the internet/ social software/ business world for the past few years, you won’t find much new information.
Don Tapscott and Anthony Williams have done a good job of rounding up the big trends, their so-called Principles of Wikinomics: openness, peering, sharing, and acting globally. Much of the work is a sort of biography of these paradigms and the companies & products that embody them. You probably know their names: Linux, Wikipedia, Google, Flickr, IBM, BMW, Best Buy, etc.

Each chapter reviews a new trend, fleshes out the history and summarizes by way of canned, italicized guidelines for business. I wish I hadn’t returned the book to the library already or I’d quote a few. Anyway, they also mix in a few Trendwatching-like neologisms, like “Ideagoras” and “New Alexandrians”. By far the most intriguing part of the book was Chapter 9, discussing the “wiki workplace.” Perhaps that’s because the idea is still the most nebulous and little-tested: “We are shifting from closed and hierarchical workplaces with rigid employment relationships increasingly self-organized, distributed, and collaborative human capital networks that draw knowledge and resources from inside and outside the firm” That’ll be an interesting process to see over the next few years. I think free agent/ consultant/ collaborative culture will become more and more popular.

What I’ve Learned by Reviewing Books

I noticed something the other day. For all of my book reviews, I’ll give a capsule rating with scores ranging from 0-5. I put a pretty good bit of time into each one, flipping back through my notes, looking over the dog-eared pages, tracking down links online, etc. When I first start writing the review, I’ll go ahead and write the draft title in the usual format: Title (review: rating). What I’ve found is about ¾ of the time, my rating for the book will creep upwards as I write my review for it.
I read this good advice about learning the other day: “If you don’t understand something, try to explain it out loud, then listen to yourself.” It’s a challenge to look over a book try to sniff out the big ideas, highlight what is interesting, and articulate what I learned—and to figure out how to share that without rambling on for 5,000 words (which isn’t bad, but this blog is the wrong context). It brings to mind that old quip: “Learn to pause… or nothing worthwhile will catch up with you.”

There’s something about the process of looking over the book again and taking a while to reflect on everything, letting ideas and impressions gel together, that increases my evaluation of it. It’s no accident that “appraise” (to evaluate) and “appreciate” (to recognize quality) share the same etymological roots. It takes some time, but the result is worth it: I think more highly of what I understand more clearly.

The Little Book of Plagiarism (review: 3.5/5)

Richard Posner is an appellate judge and also a lecturer at the University of Chicago. In The Little Book of Plagiarism gives a quick 100-page tour of the historical and legal aspects of an issue that was more complicated than I thought: plagiarism. Coming from the legal world, there’s plenty of critical wordplay here, defining and refining what exactly plagiarism is and how it relates to copyright infringement, in particular.
The definition that Posner works towards in the first half of the book is most simply described as “fraudulent copying,” which he supposes isn’t always a legal misstep (or shouldn’t always be, anyway). But it’s certainly a grievous ethical lapse. One interesting aspect of plagiarism that I hadn’t thought about is trying to suss out exactly who the “victim” is. With copyright violations, the victim is simply the author whose words were stolen and who lost recognition for or control their work. With plagiarism, the works of competing, legitimate authors are put at a disadvantage, and the reader is also misled. The plagiarist gets an unfair leg up on the competition and fools the audience.

A couple other items of note are Posner’s tangential comments on universities and scholarship: “Scholars are self-selected into an activity that requires them to write, although not to write well (which means, however, that good writing is not highly valued in most scholarly fields).” Just like any other humans, it’s plausible that some professors don’t particularly worry about writing really, really well. I hadn’t thought about that before, though I’ve certainly read my share of bad scholarly writing. (And written it as well, I’m sure… but I tried).

History offers us a few obvious examples of flagrant, unapologetic borrowers: Shakespeare, Martin Luther King Jr., T.S. Eliot, etc. Posner’s take on the issue: “We need to distinguish between “originality” and “creativity,” stripping the former of the normative overtones that rightly attend the latter.” The source material may be old, but it’s what you can do with it that counts. There’s an object lesson here, I think. One that relieves a bit of the creative’s burden. You don’t have to be the first, just do it well.

How to Walk in High Heels (review: 1.5/5)

It’s kind of interesting to read books from left field every now and then. How to Walk in High Heels: The Girls Guide to Everything is a teach-all book for ladies (of a certain mindset), complete with liberal doses of pink, hip inked illustrations, and the omnipresent heel. I realize I’m not the target audience, but I still thought it was pretty bad. Well, I have to give it credit for not taking itself too seriously. There is plenty of sarcastic humor to be found, but the advice was too self-consciously prissy and fashionable for my liking.

The Call of the Weird: Travels in American Subcultures (review: 2.5/5)

Louis Theroux‘s debut in publishing has him retreading the ground he covered in the days of his BBC documentaries. In The Call of the Weird: Travels in American Subcultures he tracks down his old subjects and finds out what they’ve been doing since he last spoke with them. Theroux’s travels place him in paranoid anti-government communes, porn studios, UFO conventions, white supremacist parades, self-help seminars, and more humdrum locales like ghettos and brothels.
Part of the awkwardness of this book, and it seems clear that Theroux wrestled with this, is that he is sometimes unsure of his own role—whether he’s doing ethnography by immersion or straight, dispassionate journalism. The struggle comes from his work to maintain relationships that he obviously appreciates (despite their quirks and foibles, his subjects are just human), but maintaining a healthy skepticism. It’s a tough balance of challenging his interviewees and basically trying not to piss them off.

I was a bit surprised to find this book is at its best within its more subjective and personal moments. I expected to be more entertained by the sheer idiocy of white supremacist ideologues or what a headcase Ike Turner is, but what I really liked was Theroux’s reflection on his own precarious balance of friendship—giving comfort and company to these self-appointed outcasts—with the more professional interests of getting a good story and writing a good book. In the end, what really comes out is not a just a study of these subcultures, but what it is like to actually know them, insofar as an outsider can.

Signal v. Noise pointed to a couple cool things the other day. New to me is the Humument, a really cool illustrated treatment/ reincarnation of an old Victorian novel. Check out the gallery. Also getting a blurb are Austin Kleon’s blackout poems. This brings to mind that essay in Harper’s I linked to the other day, the one about plagiarism, copyright, and public imagination.

Today, when we can eat Tex-Mex with chopsticks while listening to reggae and watching a YouTube rebroadcast of the Berlin Wall’s fall‚Äîi.e., when damn near everything presents itself as familiar‚Äîit’s not a surprise that some of today’s most ambitious art is going about trying to make the familiar strange. In so doing, in reimagining what human life might truly be like over there across the chasms of illusion, mediation, demographics, marketing, imago, and appearance, artists are paradoxically trying to restore what’s taken for ‚Äúreal‚Äù to three whole dimensions, to reconstruct a univocally round world out of disparate streams of flat sights.

Curses (review: 5/5)

I lucked out again. Curses is a delightful collection of comics by Kevin Huizenga. This collection fits in the “slice of life” category, but mixed with the occasional bout of the surreal, and thankfully free from most the angst and ennui that crept in some other comics I’ve read recently. My favorite of the stories was “Jeepers Jacobs,” with a sketch about a golfing theology professor who writes about Hell. A close second is “Not Sleeping Together,” about passing the time with one you love.
I love the artwork—Huizenga draws these clean, spare lines that still feel kind of loose and earthy, somehow. There’s some pretty incredible suburban skylines, even managing to make suburbia look kind of interesting. But the art is only half the battle, and the pictures and the words really work so well together here. I think part of it is Huizenga’s willingness to put a lot of text in his panels when he needs to. There’s no timidity about using a lot of block narration. And the silent panels are able carry their own weight.

I guess the best thing I can say is that I’d want to write comics like this. Well done!

Bonus: A few days ago Kevin Huizenga did a brief interview with Publisher’s Weekly.

Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom (review: 5/5)

This book reminded me how much I love science fiction. Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom (which, per Cory Doctorow‘s tradition, you can download for free) takes place in a transhuman future. Poverty, scarcity, and sickness have been pretty much eliminated. Our hapless narrator-hero, Julius, has been killed (again) and his rivals are trying to take over one of his pet projects where he works at Disneyland. He fights back with the help of tenuous friendships and ill-formed plans, and it’s pretty much wonderful the whole way through.
One of the best parts about great science fiction (and I think this one counts) is just taking a few ideas and seeing where they lead, a sort of narrative thought experiment. Luckily Doctorow doesn’t get too explicitly philisophical, but there is some great hypothesis-spinning daydream material here. What if we were all networked, able to be really, individually connected to each and every other person? How does society recalibrate value where material scarcity no longer exists? If you could freeze your life for 500 or 10,000 years and wake up later, well… what would that be like? What’s the effect on human relationships? All this, and more. Go read it.