WorldCat-Rezensionen von stuart.weibel

Why do westerners have so much cargo? That is the question, asked by a New Guinea tribesman, that motivated the author to pull together a lifetime of insight in this explanation of the march of human history. The title captures the main themes.The book earned a Pulitzer Prize and long print runs for its author, and for good reason. Insights emerge from seed distribution studies, linguistic analysis, conquistadors, the Polynesian Diaspora, food production, the wheel, and many other places. The author’s intellectual scaffolding carries the natural history of mankind on its substantial framework, and it is tightly argued and convincing in most respects (at least for a lay reader such as myself). Many of the ideas in this book are controversial. Beliefs about cultural success and dominance are commonplace and difficult to resist, particularly in this moment of seemingly unending clashes of civilizations. This book provides a framework within which to understand the gifts that geography, climate, and microbiology confer on the development of civilizations, setting aside arguments of who is better or smarter.My Seattle housemate observes that only science can ask questions of God, as science alone confers a methodology of judging answers without risk of self deception. This is true only for science that aspires to prediction rather than explanation, however. Facts are far less malleable in face of an experimental result than within the comfortable argument of a post-facto explanation. At times, though, Diamond evokes particularly sharp focus, as with the natural experiment of the Maori-Moriori collision in the Chatham Islands. Even a liberal might look a second time at questions of defense spending.It is in the postulation of refutable facts that science gives us confidence. Explanatory ‘science,’ wherein falls Diamond’s efforts, can never convince as reliably. Nonetheless, within the intersection of the melding points of societies and the melting points of alloys, Diamond creates a rigorous, fascinating, and convincing story of cultural destinies that sheds light and enlightenment. But yikes… 30 pages of acknowledgements? Thank heaven they came at the end.

Allegorical adventure fantasy has assumed a popular place in our cultural: the Tolkien trilogy, Harry Potter, the Star Wars series, and of course the Wizard of Oz, are prominent examples. Philip Pullman’s trilogy (His Dark Materials) may not reach the levels of acceptance and commercial success of these others, but it is worthy of attention, and full of philosophical and moral questions that comprise a curriculum for emerging sentience.As a whole, the books deconstruct human nature into competitive or cooperative factions (warlike, but trustworthy armored bears, ghastly ghosts and ghoulish ghasts, Lilliputian spies, witches who breed with men, but outlive them many times over, eventually to succumb to accumulated heartbreak (an interesting model). The three books (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) comprise a thousand pages of swashbuckling adventure, page-turning peril, courage, betrayal, sacrifice, yearning, and coming of age played against a background of titanic struggles and epic battles. There is plenty to engage and, delight, and make you read faster for the suspense of it all (though, never a doubt that justice will out… they don’t call it fantasy for nothing). And quandaries a plenty… is it better to suffer a gray eternity, identity intact, than rejoin the vibrant world of the living, but without one’s personal consciousness? Is there anything to choose between soul-less rationalism and the crushing, duplicitous control of religious bureaucracy? Is there a fate worse than losing one’s soul… or a cause worth risking it for?The protagonists of this multiple-world epic are a young girl, Lyra, as heroine-of-destiny and a young boy, Will, of stolid courage and uncompromising perseverance. In Lyra’s world, humans wear their souls as metamorphic anima, literally, sometimes, on their sleeves. Their ‘daemons’ change form with mood and circumstance… mouse, sparrow, dog, snake, eagle, ermine… until they eventually ‘settle’ into a totem suitable to their host at the time of puberty. No fate could be crueler than to lose one’s daemon… and no propriety stronger than its inviolate sanctity. Too bad reality isn’t like that. But her world is one of many, and the interconnection of those worlds is a dominant motif of the story, woven across centuries of conflict and sovereignty, locales as divergent as Oxford, Muscovy, Alaska, Texas and myriad underworlds. Will comes from a time and place similar to our own (also near Oxford in a modern UK), without a daemon, but by no means soul-less.Tolkien, a biblical scholar and editor of the Jerusalem Bible, gave us a rich allegory of romance, temptation, and the triumph of good over evil. His detail (including maps and language) imparted a sense of reality, but I am among those who read them more out of duty than delight, (consuming all of a summer in the task). The movies have made them more accessible in their cinematic reductions and embedded them deeper than ever in our popular mythology. I found Pullman’s work less scholarly but more engaging, but also inclined to wander in overly-complex constructions of time and space. There is more caricature than character in many of Pullman’s secondary actors, and its is easy enough to get lost in the metaphorical maze of twisty little passages. Still, not for a moment could I have considered abandoning Lyra and Will in their quest. The story works on many levels, and offers infinitely more substance than most of the media pap fed to children and adults alike. They are commendable as allegory, and full of entertainment and delight as adventure stories.

Allegorical adventure fantasy has assumed a popular place in our cultural: the Tolkien trilogy, Harry Potter, the Star Wars series, and of course the Wizard of Oz, are prominent examples. Philip Pullman’s trilogy (His Dark Materials) may not reach the levels of acceptance and commercial success of these others, but it is worthy of attention, and full of philosophical and moral questions that comprise a curriculum for emerging sentience.As a whole, the books deconstruct human nature into competitive or cooperative factions (warlike, but trustworthy armored bears, ghastly ghosts and ghoulish ghasts, Lilliputian spies, witches who breed with men, but outlive them many times over, eventually to succumb to accumulated heartbreak (an interesting model). The three books (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) comprise a thousand pages of swashbuckling adventure, page-turning peril, courage, betrayal, sacrifice, yearning, and coming of age played against a background of titanic struggles and epic battles. There is plenty to engage and, delight, and make you read faster for the suspense of it all (though, never a doubt that justice will out… they don’t call it fantasy for nothing). And quandaries a plenty… is it better to suffer a gray eternity, identity intact, than rejoin the vibrant world of the living, but without one’s personal consciousness? Is there anything to choose between soul-less rationalism and the crushing, duplicitous control of religious bureaucracy? Is there a fate worse than losing one’s soul… or a cause worth risking it for?The protagonists of this multiple-world epic are a young girl, Lyra, as heroine-of-destiny and a young boy, Will, of stolid courage and uncompromising perseverance. In Lyra’s world, humans wear their souls as metamorphic anima, literally, sometimes, on their sleeves. Their ‘daemons’ change form with mood and circumstance… mouse, sparrow, dog, snake, eagle, ermine… until they eventually ‘settle’ into a totem suitable to their host at the time of puberty. No fate could be crueler than to lose one’s daemon… and no propriety stronger than its inviolate sanctity. Too bad reality isn’t like that. But her world is one of many, and the interconnection of those worlds is a dominant motif of the story, woven across centuries of conflict and sovereignty, locales as divergent as Oxford, Muscovy, Alaska, Texas and myriad underworlds. Will comes from a time and place similar to our own (also near Oxford in a modern UK), without a daemon, but by no means soul-less.Tolkien, a biblical scholar and editor of the Jerusalem Bible, gave us a rich allegory of romance, temptation, and the triumph of good over evil. His detail (including maps and language) imparted a sense of reality, but I am among those who read them more out of duty than delight, (consuming all of a summer in the task). The movies have made them more accessible in their cinematic reductions and embedded them deeper than ever in our popular mythology. I found Pullman’s work less scholarly but more engaging, but also inclined to wander in overly-complex constructions of time and space. There is more caricature than character in many of Pullman’s secondary actors, and its is easy enough to get lost in the metaphorical maze of twisty little passages. Still, not for a moment could I have considered abandoning Lyra and Will in their quest. The story works on many levels, and offers infinitely more substance than most of the media pap fed to children and adults alike. They are commendable as allegory, and full of entertainment and delight as adventure stories.

The following review was submitted under The Golden Compass and The Amber Spyglass as well, as these books are part of a trilogy (His Dark Materials)Allegorical adventure fantasy has assumed a popular place in our cultural: the Tolkien trilogy, Harry Potter, the Star Wars series, and of course the Wizard of Oz, are prominent examples. Philip Pullman’s trilogy (His Dark Materials) may not reach the levels of acceptance and commercial success of these others, but it is worthy of attention, and full of philosophical and moral questions that comprise a curriculum for emerging sentience.As a whole, the books deconstruct human nature into competitive or cooperative factions (warlike, but trustworthy armored bears, ghastly ghosts and ghoulish ghasts, Lilliputian spies, witches who breed with men, but outlive them many times over, eventually to succumb to accumulated heartbreak (an interesting model). The three books (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) comprise a thousand pages of swashbuckling adventure, page-turning peril, courage, betrayal, sacrifice, yearning, and coming of age played against a background of titanic struggles and epic battles. There is plenty to engage and, delight, and make you read faster for the suspense of it all (though, never a doubt that justice will out… they don’t call it fantasy for nothing). And quandaries a plenty… is it better to suffer a gray eternity, identity intact, than rejoin the vibrant world of the living, but without one’s personal consciousness? Is there anything to choose between soul-less rationalism and the crushing, duplicitous control of religious bureaucracy? Is there a fate worse than losing one’s soul… or a cause worth risking it for?The protagonists of this multiple-world epic are a young girl, Lyra, as heroine-of-destiny and a young boy, Will, of stolid courage and uncompromising perseverance. In Lyra’s world, humans wear their souls as metamorphic anima, literally, sometimes, on their sleeves. Their ‘daemons’ change form with mood and circumstance… mouse, sparrow, dog, snake, eagle, ermine… until they eventually ‘settle’ into a totem suitable to their host at the time of puberty. No fate could be crueler than to lose one’s daemon… and no propriety stronger than its inviolate sanctity. Too bad reality isn’t like that. But her world is one of many, and the interconnection of those worlds is a dominant motif of the story, woven across centuries of conflict and sovereignty, locales as divergent as Oxford, Muscovy, Alaska, Texas and myriad underworlds. Will comes from a time and place similar to our own (also near Oxford in a modern UK), without a daemon, but by no means soul-less.Tolkien, a biblical scholar and editor of the Jerusalem Bible, gave us a rich allegory of romance, temptation, and the triumph of good over evil. His detail (including maps and language) imparted a sense of reality, but I am among those who read them more out of duty than delight, (consuming all of a summer in the task). The movies have made them more accessible in their cinematic reductions and embedded them deeper than ever in our popular mythology. I found Pullman’s work less scholarly but more engaging, but also inclined to wander in overly-complex constructions of time and space. There is more caricature than character in many of Pullman’s secondary actors, and its is easy enough to get lost in the metaphorical maze of twisty little passages. Still, not for a moment could I have considered abandoning Lyra and Will in their quest. The story works on many levels, and offers infinitely more substance than most of the media pap fed to children and adults alike. They are commendable as allegory, and full of entertainment and delight as adventure stories.

The following review was entered under The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife as well, as these books are part of a trilogy.Allegorical adventure fantasy has assumed a popular place in our cultural: the Tolkien trilogy, Harry Potter, the Star Wars series, and of course the Wizard of Oz, are prominent examples. Philip Pullman’s trilogy (His Dark Materials) may not reach the levels of acceptance and commercial success of these others, but it is worthy of attention, and full of philosophical and moral questions that comprise a curriculum for emerging sentience.As a whole, the books deconstruct human nature into competitive or cooperative factions (warlike, but trustworthy armored bears, ghastly ghosts and ghoulish ghasts, Lilliputian spies, witches who breed with men, but outlive them many times over, eventually to succumb to accumulated heartbreak (an interesting model). The three books (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) comprise a thousand pages of swashbuckling adventure, page-turning peril, courage, betrayal, sacrifice, yearning, and coming of age played against a background of titanic struggles and epic battles. There is plenty to engage and, delight, and make you read faster for the suspense of it all (though, never a doubt that justice will out… they don’t call it fantasy for nothing). And quandaries a plenty… is it better to suffer a gray eternity, identity intact, than rejoin the vibrant world of the living, but without one’s personal consciousness? Is there anything to choose between soul-less rationalism and the crushing, duplicitous control of religious bureaucracy? Is there a fate worse than losing one’s soul… or a cause worth risking it for?The protagonists of this multiple-world epic are a young girl, Lyra, as heroine-of-destiny and a young boy, Will, of stolid courage and uncompromising perseverance. In Lyra’s world, humans wear their souls as metamorphic anima, literally, sometimes, on their sleeves. Their ‘daemons’ change form with mood and circumstance… mouse, sparrow, dog, snake, eagle, ermine… until they eventually ‘settle’ into a totem suitable to their host at the time of puberty. No fate could be crueler than to lose one’s daemon… and no propriety stronger than its inviolate sanctity. Too bad reality isn’t like that. But her world is one of many, and the interconnection of those worlds is a dominant motif of the story, woven across centuries of conflict and sovereignty, locales as divergent as Oxford, Muscovy, Alaska, Texas and myriad underworlds. Will comes from a time and place similar to our own (also near Oxford in a modern UK), without a daemon, but by no means soul-less.Tolkien, a biblical scholar and editor of the Jerusalem Bible, gave us a rich allegory of romance, temptation, and the triumph of good over evil. His detail (including maps and language) imparted a sense of reality, but I am among those who read them more out of duty than delight, (consuming all of a summer in the task). The movies have made them more accessible in their cinematic reductions and embedded them deeper than ever in our popular mythology. I found Pullman’s work less scholarly but more engaging, but also inclined to wander in overly-complex constructions of time and space. There is more caricature than character in many of Pullman’s secondary actors, and its is easy enough to get lost in the metaphorical maze of twisty little passages. Still, not for a moment could I have considered abandoning Lyra and Will in their quest. The story works on many levels, and offers infinitely more substance than most of the media pap fed to children and adults alike. They are commendable as allegory, and full of entertainment and delight as adventure stories.