For the past decade, whenever it comes to Mac's, the internet airwaves have either been filled with people who love them or people who hate them. While no one can deny their aesthetic build, innovative design, and high quality after purchase support, Mac critics have always been quick to point out their equally undeniable high price, lack of customizability, and relatively low proportions of hardware performance per dollar by comparison to PC's. Until recently I have always been one of the Mac haters, because I am a power user who demands maximum power and user customizability from my machine. Of course, that prejudice of mine may be changing and I will tell you why.
Really it all boils down to the MacBook Pro. The new line up has superb hardware set up inside a sturdy yet aesthetically pleasing uni-body aluminum shell. Very few PC laptops come outfitted with the kind of high powered Intel CPU's and gaming ready GPU's while simultaneously being so battery efficient, silent, cool running, and light. There are a number of more powerful PC notebooks on the market to be had, yes, but the MacBook is a finely balanced mechanism with well-rounded offerings and few other notebooks can match its compact form factor. Whether you are browsing the web on the road, watching movies in a plane, playing 3D games at home, chatting on skype with the built in webcam, or drafting office documents at work or school, you would be hard pressed to find another notebook that can meet so many different user needs so well. All this and you can go a full seven hour cordless work day on the thing without so much as thinking about a wall outlet.
But let's look at the competition. Some of the most attractive competitors to MacBook's today come from HP's Pavillion line, which looks great until you start looking more closely. Yes, the Pavillion is pretty but has a patchy track record. Sometimes the problem is something small, like the track pad, which, while it has an attractive sheen, sticks to the fingers, attracting prints and hindering movement. Some have complained the keyboard is a flimsy build, makes noise, and does not feel solid. The same can be said for many of the notebook bodies, which some report feel like toy plastic and give under pressure. But more down to the nitty gritty, while you can come by fairly high spec HP hardware at lower price than a MacBook Pro, many models are nagged by some kind of significant failing--such as low battery life, overheating, noise, compatibility issues, defective components, poor fit and finish, or some combination of the above. And then there is the concern about customer service--what happens if something breaks? I have read shameful horror stories about HP's "customer care." You will find it to be a similar case with other big brand name manufacturers such as Dell. Other line ups, such as MSI and Acer's new thin and lights also suffer from build issues, and in the case of Acer's Timeline series, while it looks fabulous, is hardly a MacBook killer due to its comparatively lackluster performance and over priced units. And it's true that Lenovo's Idea and Thinkpad's, as well as Sony's Z series, are attractive, feature laden devices, but for the price point they do not compare to MacBook Pro's overall performance reliability. While there are still some quality PC's out there, some of which come from the manufacturers listed above, most PC offerings simply are not as attractive or robust as the MacBook Pro in terms of their slim, lightweight form factor and high-spec performance. And when it comes down to it, if you still need or want to use Windows, Mac's "Boot Camp" can turn any MBP into a fine-tuned Windows machine and then there is always VMware.
But what about the price, you say? Aren't Mac's supposed to cost an arm and a leg? Yes they do. And in the past this would have stopped me from endorsing a Mac. But lately Apple has slashed the prices to be competitive with their cheaper PC cousins. While I was custom speccing various PC "thin and light" notebooks at online retailers, trying to find the right one for me, I realized that to get to the performance and feature level I wanted my price point was being pushed close to, if not at, about a $1000. Throw in warranty and accessories and that would come to about $1,200. A quick look on Apple's Mac stores and I find the MacBook Pro 13" starts at $1,200. So at best, if I went with a PC with similar load out to an MBP, then I would be saving a few hundred dollars. But for what? So I can have dodgy customer care, disappointing failings such as low battery life, heating, noise, defects, poor build quality, and ugly case design? To be fair to PC's, that is a generalization, but it holds true in many cases.
Most people these days go for notebooks as their computing solution. And right now, Apple's MacBook Pro line is one of the only varieties of a notebook with solid reputation, solid performance, and solid customer support behind it. Even though getting a MacBook Pro is still going to be more expensive than a PC--and I hesitate to say this because now I sound like one of those annoying Mac heads--you are paying for quality.
That said, Mac's aren't for everyone nor would I recommend them in every case. If you just need something to check e-mail, do light web browsing, and word process, there are cheaper options. Likewise, if you are a professional and desire a more understated Windows notebook that will get the job done, there are plenty of great, even quite attractive, options to be found. Also if you are looking for a desktop tower solution, there are cheaper and better alternatives than the iMac, mini Mac, and Mac Pro lines. For instance, one could build a quad core system using OEM parts that rivals the $2,500 Mac Pro for well under a $1000 price mark. Likewise, for the $3,300 Mac Pro, one could build an i7 machine based on Intel's newest architecture, which is something Apple does not even offer its customers yet. Then, in the case of the iMac and mini Mac, with a $600 budget one could build an OEM system that matches, perhaps even surpasses, the specs and performance of both. If you are not afraid to get your hands dirty or can hire a local geek/system integrator, you could walk away with a superior system for a cheaper cost than Mac has to offer. And in terms of ultra portables--under 3-4lbs, and less than one inch--the MacBook Air is simply lackluster--you will find better pickings in the PC notebook market than what Apple has to offer here. But if you are in the market for a thin, light, stylish but powerful notebook, the MacBook Pro is undeniably one of the best. Indeed, it certainly qualifies for the term "all-in-one" computer.
I for one suspect PC notebook manufacturers are going to catch up to Apple in terms of innovative design and performance one of these days, but not today, not this 2009.
Other thoughts: Windows 7 is looking pretty sweet y'all...
Monday, June 15, 2009
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Fight Club, shall I compare thee to a twisted summer's day??
I think my favorite book by far is Fight Club, the one I selected. No surprise, eh? Well, it's good, so stuff it.
One of my favorite passages is the one where Narrator is picked up for a car ride by the mechanic and taken on a suicide run, where the mechanic locks the car into a collision course with an oncoming truck. Where he does this and asks, “What will you wish you’d done before you die?” and counts down the seconds before impact – demanding an answer or else he will crash the car.
There is a lot of intensity here: there is a lot of thought provoking, heart pounding, brain-cell killing intensity. When you combine a scene calling attention to the fragility of your mortality, along with a question asking whether or not you're doing what you wanted with your life (indeed, the most important thing you want to accomplish before dying: whether a self portrait, building a house, or quitting your job...whatever), in the psychotic dashboard setting of a maniac driving you towards doom - well, you can only get an interesting result. Actually, I asked myself this question and found I really wanted to kiss this girl I just met. Wow, no apprehension when you think about how you could die at any moment. So the mechanic says, "You had a near life experience." This scene is a drug.
The movie is full of amusing anarchist/nihilistic/just plain crazy counter-culture jingoisms and anecdotes as well. Of course, since I'm in the library and I left my notes at home, I can't go into those much. However, I will throw this one out just for kicks: "God I haven't been f@#*ed like that since grade school!" Of course, the movie also rips quotes straight from the book, so it holds a lot of literary depth for a Hollywood production. In a punk, grunge, industrial "Tyler Durden sort of way," it can get pretty deep. That other line is just a cheap gag by comparison. Well, maybe you just think it's crass. It is. But I laughed.
In the movie we learn how to make napalm by mixing equal parts of gasoline and kitty litter, or how to make fancy soap from human lard scavenged from liposuction clinic dumpsters labeled "Infectious Waste", or how to make dynamite from said soap. We finally resolve questions of identity that nag at us all in life: "You are not your job. You are not your wallet. You are not your car. You are not your f#$%ing khaki's. You are the all singing all dancing crap of the world. You are part of the same compost heap." And if you want to truly be free, you have to lose everything.
Oh, Fight Club, shall I compare thee to a summer's day - one gone horribly, horribly, insanely, bizzarely, disturbingly, so very sexily wrong? Tap it.
One of my favorite passages is the one where Narrator is picked up for a car ride by the mechanic and taken on a suicide run, where the mechanic locks the car into a collision course with an oncoming truck. Where he does this and asks, “What will you wish you’d done before you die?” and counts down the seconds before impact – demanding an answer or else he will crash the car.
There is a lot of intensity here: there is a lot of thought provoking, heart pounding, brain-cell killing intensity. When you combine a scene calling attention to the fragility of your mortality, along with a question asking whether or not you're doing what you wanted with your life (indeed, the most important thing you want to accomplish before dying: whether a self portrait, building a house, or quitting your job...whatever), in the psychotic dashboard setting of a maniac driving you towards doom - well, you can only get an interesting result. Actually, I asked myself this question and found I really wanted to kiss this girl I just met. Wow, no apprehension when you think about how you could die at any moment. So the mechanic says, "You had a near life experience." This scene is a drug.
The movie is full of amusing anarchist/nihilistic/just plain crazy counter-culture jingoisms and anecdotes as well. Of course, since I'm in the library and I left my notes at home, I can't go into those much. However, I will throw this one out just for kicks: "God I haven't been f@#*ed like that since grade school!" Of course, the movie also rips quotes straight from the book, so it holds a lot of literary depth for a Hollywood production. In a punk, grunge, industrial "Tyler Durden sort of way," it can get pretty deep. That other line is just a cheap gag by comparison. Well, maybe you just think it's crass. It is. But I laughed.
In the movie we learn how to make napalm by mixing equal parts of gasoline and kitty litter, or how to make fancy soap from human lard scavenged from liposuction clinic dumpsters labeled "Infectious Waste", or how to make dynamite from said soap. We finally resolve questions of identity that nag at us all in life: "You are not your job. You are not your wallet. You are not your car. You are not your f#$%ing khaki's. You are the all singing all dancing crap of the world. You are part of the same compost heap." And if you want to truly be free, you have to lose everything.
Oh, Fight Club, shall I compare thee to a summer's day - one gone horribly, horribly, insanely, bizzarely, disturbingly, so very sexily wrong? Tap it.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
On Tom McCarthy's Remainder
"Think about it: the lighter doesn't spark first time you flip it, the first wisp of smoke gets in your eye and makes you wince; the fridge door catches and then rattles, milk slops over. It happens to everyone. It's universal: everything fucks up! You're not unusual.
You know what you are?"
"No," I said. "What?"
"You're just more usual than everyone else."
Woah. I was blown away by this. "[M]ore usual than everyone else." This statement is so profound. Since, it's hard to relate to such a schizo, screwy, wonky, willy wonka, cognitive dissonanced freakozoid like Mr. Obsessive Compulsive here BUT maybe that's the point, that's the irony. This crazy dude that a lot of readers might not like is, in fact, a sort of reflection of the common man, of us. Like him, we all have unrealistic expectations about what our life should be like -- what we should be like. But, I ask you the reader, has there every been a time where your life was "one. Perfect. Real." Where you were "just being." I would say, rarely, if ever. There's always something that takes the perfection away, always some awkwardness or lack of coolness, smoothness, and sublime verve which defines Hollywood productions. In every way, Remainder's protagonist is the archetype of every human -- if only in an exaggerated way. Really, he conveys the essence of the human experience in this schizo, screwy, wonky, willy wonka, cognitive dissonanced freakozoid post-modern world we live.
But still, he expects some sort of ideal that never materializes. One can sincerely relate to his experience where he drank with buddies at the bar in a post Settlement victory celebration. The quote goes:
"It felt strange -- the whole exchange. I felt we hadn't done it right -- tangental BREAK -- (interjection: "right" interesting that he should put it that way, like what happened in reality wasn't right, like life's natural process isn't right -- in fact, here the natural becomes the awkward and contrived, while the impossibly idealistic, the contrived, becomes the natural, in his mind.) --- End tangental BREAK -- It would have seemed more genuine if he'd thrown the drinks up in the air and we'd danced a jig together while the golden drops rained slowly down on us, or if we'd been young aristocrats from another era, unimaginably wealthy lords and viscounts, and he'd just said quietly Good show, old chap before we moved on to discuss grouse shooting or some scandal at the opera. But this was neither-nor. And beer got on my elbow when I leant it on the table."
Isn't this precious? I personally found it amusing, eliciting a chuckle from my dry lips. There are many like quotes scattered throughout the novel but anyway... This is a perfect example where there is a mismatch between his expectation and reality. And notice how, compared to the rest of the passage, the last sentence, which sums up what actually happened, is the shortest, the most trivial, the dullest. Reality pales in comparison to fantasy, but then, aren't we too obsessed with fantasy? That obsession gets in the way of "just being," as our protagonist puts it.
Another and last thing, somewhat related but not quite, is the airport coffee stand scene. "When you order they say Heyy! to you, then they repeat your order aloud, correcting the word large into tall, small into short. I ordered a small (emphasis added) capuccino. Simultaneously, perhaps making no sense, this says to me that - like the trainer and his efforts to "rewire" the man - society trains you to be a way you are not -- and so, you become an actor. It is no wonder the man, archetype of all modern day men, feels so fake, so unnatural. Every inch of our society's ideological space is filled with unnatural programming -- programming that goes against what we find most natural. For instance, the trainer had him visualizing carrots to activate parts of the brain meant to do things other than manage motor control. The result is him having to consciously reflect upon his every physical action. It doesn't come naturally. With the coffee vendor, so many labels have been created to make drinks sound fancy. A small is a short, even though a person's natural reaction is to call it as a small, not a short. In this way, we are made hollow, we are made actors, and our reality becomes fake -- and, we wonder why.
PS: Random thought - notice how in Settlement there is a capital S, as if to suggest when you get material wealth you are Settled, finito. Of course, we early on see the folly in this statement because if it were true, the book would have ended at chapter 1, with the nirvanic contentment of our disturbed stalwart.
The End.
by Joshua Lam
"Think about it: the lighter doesn't spark first time you flip it, the first wisp of smoke gets in your eye and makes you wince; the fridge door catches and then rattles, milk slops over. It happens to everyone. It's universal: everything fucks up! You're not unusual.
You know what you are?"
"No," I said. "What?"
"You're just more usual than everyone else."
Woah. I was blown away by this. "[M]ore usual than everyone else." This statement is so profound. Since, it's hard to relate to such a schizo, screwy, wonky, willy wonka, cognitive dissonanced freakozoid like Mr. Obsessive Compulsive here BUT maybe that's the point, that's the irony. This crazy dude that a lot of readers might not like is, in fact, a sort of reflection of the common man, of us. Like him, we all have unrealistic expectations about what our life should be like -- what we should be like. But, I ask you the reader, has there every been a time where your life was "one. Perfect. Real." Where you were "just being." I would say, rarely, if ever. There's always something that takes the perfection away, always some awkwardness or lack of coolness, smoothness, and sublime verve which defines Hollywood productions. In every way, Remainder's protagonist is the archetype of every human -- if only in an exaggerated way. Really, he conveys the essence of the human experience in this schizo, screwy, wonky, willy wonka, cognitive dissonanced freakozoid post-modern world we live.
But still, he expects some sort of ideal that never materializes. One can sincerely relate to his experience where he drank with buddies at the bar in a post Settlement victory celebration. The quote goes:
"It felt strange -- the whole exchange. I felt we hadn't done it right -- tangental BREAK -- (interjection: "right" interesting that he should put it that way, like what happened in reality wasn't right, like life's natural process isn't right -- in fact, here the natural becomes the awkward and contrived, while the impossibly idealistic, the contrived, becomes the natural, in his mind.) --- End tangental BREAK -- It would have seemed more genuine if he'd thrown the drinks up in the air and we'd danced a jig together while the golden drops rained slowly down on us, or if we'd been young aristocrats from another era, unimaginably wealthy lords and viscounts, and he'd just said quietly Good show, old chap before we moved on to discuss grouse shooting or some scandal at the opera. But this was neither-nor. And beer got on my elbow when I leant it on the table."
Isn't this precious? I personally found it amusing, eliciting a chuckle from my dry lips. There are many like quotes scattered throughout the novel but anyway... This is a perfect example where there is a mismatch between his expectation and reality. And notice how, compared to the rest of the passage, the last sentence, which sums up what actually happened, is the shortest, the most trivial, the dullest. Reality pales in comparison to fantasy, but then, aren't we too obsessed with fantasy? That obsession gets in the way of "just being," as our protagonist puts it.
Another and last thing, somewhat related but not quite, is the airport coffee stand scene. "When you order they say Heyy! to you, then they repeat your order aloud, correcting the word large into tall, small into short. I ordered a small (emphasis added) capuccino. Simultaneously, perhaps making no sense, this says to me that - like the trainer and his efforts to "rewire" the man - society trains you to be a way you are not -- and so, you become an actor. It is no wonder the man, archetype of all modern day men, feels so fake, so unnatural. Every inch of our society's ideological space is filled with unnatural programming -- programming that goes against what we find most natural. For instance, the trainer had him visualizing carrots to activate parts of the brain meant to do things other than manage motor control. The result is him having to consciously reflect upon his every physical action. It doesn't come naturally. With the coffee vendor, so many labels have been created to make drinks sound fancy. A small is a short, even though a person's natural reaction is to call it as a small, not a short. In this way, we are made hollow, we are made actors, and our reality becomes fake -- and, we wonder why.
PS: Random thought - notice how in Settlement there is a capital S, as if to suggest when you get material wealth you are Settled, finito. Of course, we early on see the folly in this statement because if it were true, the book would have ended at chapter 1, with the nirvanic contentment of our disturbed stalwart.
The End.
by Joshua Lam
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Life is a Highway!
You know, the language in "The Road" is pretty awesome. It's very subtle, hinting but not saying, and it's so straightforward that sometimes you might miss it's intellectual depth. Not only that, but it's mesmerizing, full of imagery, and evokes many feelings, all of which captivate and hypnotize the reader with its motion.
Let's take a look at some of it: "No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy. I have you."
Time is nothing, only what we have now - we all die, that is the one constant. The narrative tries to kill time, making it irrelevant. Reality is governed by just existing, or not. Human distinctions of time and space pale to the reality, which is simply being. And being is "birth in grief and ashes" with inevitable death. But then, we have each other.
The language can sweep you along and evoke so much with it's elegiac and brilliantly crafted yet simple imagery: "The unseen sun cast no shadow." This small phrase says so much, does so much, to the reader - to the eyes of the imagination. It really conveys what it means to live this bleak world, the true character of it. Typically, we associate the sun's shadow with death, with the end of the day. The sun's shadow means twilight is coming soon. This world is past that point, the sun is gone and there is not even that hint of death. The world is already dead. Its days are nothing more than a reminder of that "birth in grief and ash" surviving humans now abide.
But getting deeper into the story's straightforward yet deep allegory, my favorite passage is the meeting with Ely, the mysterious old man. He seems like a contradiction. His existence is impossible. How could a frail old blind man survive on the road? It's almost a joke to think he could. Yet the things he said reveal the synchronicity in his idiosyncrasy.
His seeming insanity is in fact, the only sanity we find in the book. His words, seemingly the rants of a senile old man cut through to life's essential nature. "I wouldn't have even come this far but I was hungry[...]I'm just on the road the same as you." The road, by this point in the story, has been continually alluded to as a metaphor for life. But where does the road go? Some faint dream or hope for something better, some answer or catharsis - some kind of salvation yet to be realized, or even precisely known. And you walk this road because, well, you are hungry. But ultimately, the road leads nowhere but your death. Sanely, why not just stop where you are and let the end come in the most painless way possible. Instead, we go on, braving cannibals, sickness, and fear for our life -- because we are hungry. Each one of us is on the road, different from any other living creature who continues on -- because we are hungry. But then, the only real destination at the end of our journey is death. Death, death, death. What's the point? We're on the road, trying to reach something more... It's comical.
In that sense, apocalyptic disaster or no, life remains essentially the same in character. We suffer to varying degrees, struggling to survive and thrive for who knows why, then we die. So to speak: same shit, different day (well, if you are able to see the sun). So, what he says next is interesting. "I don't want anybody talking about me. To say where I was or what I said when I was there[...]I think in times like these the less said the better. If something had happened and we were survivors and we met on the road then we'd have something to talk about. But we're not. So we dont." These words seem rife with contradiction: they are on the road, they are survivors, they do have something to talk about. Or are they? Well, life's essential nature has always been the same, so nothing really different happened. What they are going through is more of the same.
since, THE ONLY DIFFERENCE takes place within the human mind. we Say in our minds whether things are good or bad, whether we are survivors, whether we are traveling towards specific destinations. Living things create "the road" and all its troubles. That's what he means when he says "Where men cant live gods fare no better." Thus, when he hopes the child is not a god and says it "would be a terrible thing," he implies his hope that man cannot continue surviving. Since, "Things will be better when everybody's gone[...]We'll all breathe easier." Without man, there can be no road, and without the road, there is no suffering, no death. These things are made by us, they also die with us. As he says, deaths "days will be numbered too."
Indeed, we'll breathe easier because, what is the point of walking the road? To end our suffering, to find something better at the end of that dreary rainbow we call life. But when we die, there is no suffering. It is as if "everybody else did too." Humans construct the road, we construct salvation. "There is no God and we are his prophets." Indeed, he says, without men there cannot even be God. Of course, interesting as this passage is and as interesting as Ely is and as telling as its analysis is to the story's meaning, I'm not claiming these views necessarily reflect upon reality per se. It's something to think about though, very compelling.
On another note: The neat thing is, too, that this passage is the longest and most complex dialogue in the novel. Yet, there are no quotations and no indicators such as "he said, etc" to tell you who is saying what. But it all makes perfect sense who is speaking. Here, McCarthy, in all his unorthodox defiance of convention, is brilliant.
Now, coming to a close to this ill-constructed participation points grabbing rant: I have to say that in general, McCarthy does a splendid job with the book's language. The lack of standard punctuation, quotations, chaptering, dialogue demarcation, and its interesting hybrid of stream of consciousness and third person narrative is not only a unique stylistic feature of the book but also serves as a sort of literary device in itself. The characters are nameless, the place's are nameless, and the narrative simply flows from one memory to the next, one vision of the moment to the next, in a sort of timeless and placeless meta-vision of the world. This really pulls the reader into the moment and casts aside separation between different places, people, and things. Everything coalescenes into one picture, the narrative itself, in this way, could be interpreted into a sort of character unto itself. It really conveys a sense that the universe, the world, is much bigger than humanity and that all our concerns are pretty insignificant - if there significance isn't completely imagined by us - and yet, we also get into the father and son's heads a little. We see and hear the father's thoughts, his memories, his worries and we empathize with the boy's humanity. Indeed, their human concerns are very significant, very personal, to the reader. All the while, there is still that larger, more impersonal sense hued into the narrative's world.
Hibbity, hibbity - that's all folks!
Oh, and I apologize to your mothers if this somehow caused seizure, coma, or other mental complications as a result of reading this.
Let's take a look at some of it: "No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy. I have you."
Time is nothing, only what we have now - we all die, that is the one constant. The narrative tries to kill time, making it irrelevant. Reality is governed by just existing, or not. Human distinctions of time and space pale to the reality, which is simply being. And being is "birth in grief and ashes" with inevitable death. But then, we have each other.
The language can sweep you along and evoke so much with it's elegiac and brilliantly crafted yet simple imagery: "The unseen sun cast no shadow." This small phrase says so much, does so much, to the reader - to the eyes of the imagination. It really conveys what it means to live this bleak world, the true character of it. Typically, we associate the sun's shadow with death, with the end of the day. The sun's shadow means twilight is coming soon. This world is past that point, the sun is gone and there is not even that hint of death. The world is already dead. Its days are nothing more than a reminder of that "birth in grief and ash" surviving humans now abide.
But getting deeper into the story's straightforward yet deep allegory, my favorite passage is the meeting with Ely, the mysterious old man. He seems like a contradiction. His existence is impossible. How could a frail old blind man survive on the road? It's almost a joke to think he could. Yet the things he said reveal the synchronicity in his idiosyncrasy.
His seeming insanity is in fact, the only sanity we find in the book. His words, seemingly the rants of a senile old man cut through to life's essential nature. "I wouldn't have even come this far but I was hungry[...]I'm just on the road the same as you." The road, by this point in the story, has been continually alluded to as a metaphor for life. But where does the road go? Some faint dream or hope for something better, some answer or catharsis - some kind of salvation yet to be realized, or even precisely known. And you walk this road because, well, you are hungry. But ultimately, the road leads nowhere but your death. Sanely, why not just stop where you are and let the end come in the most painless way possible. Instead, we go on, braving cannibals, sickness, and fear for our life -- because we are hungry. Each one of us is on the road, different from any other living creature who continues on -- because we are hungry. But then, the only real destination at the end of our journey is death. Death, death, death. What's the point? We're on the road, trying to reach something more... It's comical.
In that sense, apocalyptic disaster or no, life remains essentially the same in character. We suffer to varying degrees, struggling to survive and thrive for who knows why, then we die. So to speak: same shit, different day (well, if you are able to see the sun). So, what he says next is interesting. "I don't want anybody talking about me. To say where I was or what I said when I was there[...]I think in times like these the less said the better. If something had happened and we were survivors and we met on the road then we'd have something to talk about. But we're not. So we dont." These words seem rife with contradiction: they are on the road, they are survivors, they do have something to talk about. Or are they? Well, life's essential nature has always been the same, so nothing really different happened. What they are going through is more of the same.
since, THE ONLY DIFFERENCE takes place within the human mind. we Say in our minds whether things are good or bad, whether we are survivors, whether we are traveling towards specific destinations. Living things create "the road" and all its troubles. That's what he means when he says "Where men cant live gods fare no better." Thus, when he hopes the child is not a god and says it "would be a terrible thing," he implies his hope that man cannot continue surviving. Since, "Things will be better when everybody's gone[...]We'll all breathe easier." Without man, there can be no road, and without the road, there is no suffering, no death. These things are made by us, they also die with us. As he says, deaths "days will be numbered too."
Indeed, we'll breathe easier because, what is the point of walking the road? To end our suffering, to find something better at the end of that dreary rainbow we call life. But when we die, there is no suffering. It is as if "everybody else did too." Humans construct the road, we construct salvation. "There is no God and we are his prophets." Indeed, he says, without men there cannot even be God. Of course, interesting as this passage is and as interesting as Ely is and as telling as its analysis is to the story's meaning, I'm not claiming these views necessarily reflect upon reality per se. It's something to think about though, very compelling.
On another note: The neat thing is, too, that this passage is the longest and most complex dialogue in the novel. Yet, there are no quotations and no indicators such as "he said, etc" to tell you who is saying what. But it all makes perfect sense who is speaking. Here, McCarthy, in all his unorthodox defiance of convention, is brilliant.
Now, coming to a close to this ill-constructed participation points grabbing rant: I have to say that in general, McCarthy does a splendid job with the book's language. The lack of standard punctuation, quotations, chaptering, dialogue demarcation, and its interesting hybrid of stream of consciousness and third person narrative is not only a unique stylistic feature of the book but also serves as a sort of literary device in itself. The characters are nameless, the place's are nameless, and the narrative simply flows from one memory to the next, one vision of the moment to the next, in a sort of timeless and placeless meta-vision of the world. This really pulls the reader into the moment and casts aside separation between different places, people, and things. Everything coalescenes into one picture, the narrative itself, in this way, could be interpreted into a sort of character unto itself. It really conveys a sense that the universe, the world, is much bigger than humanity and that all our concerns are pretty insignificant - if there significance isn't completely imagined by us - and yet, we also get into the father and son's heads a little. We see and hear the father's thoughts, his memories, his worries and we empathize with the boy's humanity. Indeed, their human concerns are very significant, very personal, to the reader. All the while, there is still that larger, more impersonal sense hued into the narrative's world.
Hibbity, hibbity - that's all folks!
Oh, and I apologize to your mothers if this somehow caused seizure, coma, or other mental complications as a result of reading this.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
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