BRAIN DRAIN

Sara Gruen offers a thoroughly charming piece of storytelling in Water for Elephants. It is the tale of Jacob Jankowski, who in the twilight of his years recollects what led to his joining the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth. Against the backdrop of the Great Depression, the events of the protagonist’s reminiscence are a unique window into life on a traveling circus, with an accompanying cast of unforgettable characters that only such a story calls for.

Water for Elephants no doubt pays homage to the heyday of the Big Top: Ms. Gruen admits as much in her accompanying author’s note. As a love letter to that bygone era, the novel works wonderfully. That the events depicted are based on historical accounts — anecdotal or otherwise — has much to do with this, to be sure; but really the book shines because of its emotional hook in the experiences of the fictional Jankowski. His story is one that is exceedingly easy to relate to: one of personal tragedy, unexpected adventure, and forbidden romance.

For a sophomore offering, Sara Gruen proves herself adept at her craft. Her narrative is wonderfully paced on the whole, and portions that are decidedly mature in their sensibilities are depicted in good taste (though not for younger readers). There’s even a little smoke and mirrors in her use of flashbacks, a device she employs very well. Because of these fine qualities, it is easy to forgive Ms. Gruen for conceiving of a convenient resolution to the story, for even this is accomplished so adroitly.

With Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen has written a book that cannot come any more highly recommended.

Expanded and developed from his Wired magazine article, Chris Anderson’s The Long Tail is primarily about how technologies such as the internet are changing marketplace realities and redefining the face of business — not to mention politics, culture and society as well.

The Long Tail derives its title from what are known in statistics as long-tailed distributions (such as a Chi-squared distribution, or perhaps the right half of a bell/normal curve). The argument that Anderson puts forward is that technologies have vastly democratized the tools of production and distribution, and have made it far easier for buyers and sellers to actually come together. As a result, there is a fundamental shift in commerce from mass marketing to niche marketing. Whereas in the past “hits” comprised the bulk of sales, today there are markets for even the most obscure of products. In the jargon of the book, while hits continue to populate the “head” of sales distributions, there is an increasingly long “tail” of niche products that individually generate a little sales. As Chris Anderson rightly observes, in the aggregate this little amounts to a lot — and a significant lot at that.

Naturally, much of The Long Tail delves into cases that involve internet commerce in some shape or form, from electronic stores such as iTunes, Amazon.com and eBay, to search engines such as Google or Yahoo, to the phenomenon of viral marketing that seems to be all the rage. As such it would be tempting to write the book off as yet another tome singing the praises of the internet economy. But The Long Tail is no such book: Anderson himself is quick to acknowledge the roots of the long tail phenomenon in the bricks-and-mortar economy as embodied in the entrepreneurship that would give rise to Sears, Roebuck and Co., demonstrating perhaps not that history has repeated itself but rather that it has come full circle.

With The Long Tail, Chris Anderson has written an indisputably compelling book. It is a definite must-read that manages to communicate what we may already know about the digital age intuitively but in a fashion so clear and enlightening as to be captivating.

This is my requisite Harry Potter post. But perhaps not the one most might expect.

Whether you’ve read the series or not (or even liked how it came to a close), there’s no denying that J. K. Rowling has achieved something remarkable with Harry Potter. The ten-year opus-in-the-making has entertained readers the world over, with the release of each book an eagerly anticipated affair. Some are of the opinion that Harry Potter has singlehandedly brought back the allure of books. While this overstates the matter somewhat, there is no denying that over the past decade there has been a certain excitement surrounding reading that wasn’t exactly there before — especially among the young — and Rowling has been a large part of that.

I have to wonder, however, if years from now Harry Potter will still resonate in the hearts and minds of future readers to whom the completed series is readily available.

It’s simple, really. Part of the charm of the series — aside from the inherent mystique of magic, kids cast in the role of heroes, or the epic battle between good and evil — is the sense of time to which the story is tied. Each book represents a year in our eponymous wizard’s life, and thus in progressing through the books Harry and the rest of the cast grow up before our eyes. Indeed, in writing the series Rowling has evidently gone to great lengths to have this theme of growing up ring true, with each succeeding installment becoming more mature, some would even say darker, than that which preceeded it.

Yet the trouble is that current readers, particularly younger ones, had no choice but to wait and grow up with the book as the series was being written. Consider: a child whose parents had probably been reading Harry Potter to him at six years of age would now be sixteen at the time of the final book’s release. For such a person, the progression of the story and its themes through the books would seem natural precisely because of having himself matured in the intervening years while the story was still a work in progress. This will not be the case for future readers, for whom no such natural impediment exists with all the books having been released. They will have at their fingertips the entire story as it was meant to be read, and perhaps be more acutely aware that the sense of wonder and innocence with which the tale begins slowly ebbs away with each additional book. To contend otherwise is to turn a blind eye to the “snogging” that takes place in later books, the abrupt and perhaps unnecessary deaths of beloved characters, or how arguably crass language such as “effin’” or “bitch” manages to creep into the narrative and feels terribly out of place in what otherwise began as a children’s series.

This brings me back to the point. With the completed series available and such elements evident in later books, how will future parents introduce their children to the wonders of Harry Potter? Will they wait until their children are older? Or will they merely set limits, reading to their children the earlier installments while putting off passing on the later ones when they are “ready”? I admit that to think about such things feels like throwing a wet rag over something as harmless as Harry Potter, which overall is a wonderful tale with a very positive message. But at the same time a very good case can be made that the completed series is not as entirely appropriate for children as it was when the first book came out (on its own) over a decade ago.

Ultimately, only time will tell whether these things will cast a shadow over such a brilliant feat of creativity as Harry Potter or if there is so much more magic in J. K. Rowling’s work than we already give her credit for.

Prices are on the right, from a restaurant in Makati. Is it just me, or after combo #1 are they charging more for exactly the same thing?

While browsing at their store in Serendra last Tuesday, I happened to make the acquaintance of Jose and Cristina Lopez, proprietors of A Different Bookstore.

The pleasure was all mine, naturally. I’ve long admired A Different Bookstore, having frequented their Glorietta branch for years now, and sincerely feel that they are the best bookseller in Metro Manila worthy of that name. Unlike others in the industry, they have resisted the temptation to transform into a chain along the mega-store variety, instead keeping their branches quaint and maintaining that botique-type charm and intimacy that is so inviting to bibliophiles of all persuasions. Rather than compete on stock quantity, they offer a better quality selection of titles in small amounts, ensuring that their offerings are always current. Most importantly, their staff are a pleasure to deal with and are knowledgable about the books they sell: it’s rare I find bookstore staff in the Philippines that can field finicky questions about books such as whether a title comes in an alternate edition with a different cover.

It is obvious to me now that the qualities I so admire about this chain of stores emanates from the owners, themselves confessed bibliophiles. Apparently, while scouring the shelves and remarking about some book or other I caught the intention of Mr. Lopez, who decided to offer me a discount card simply because I struck him as quite the avid reader. This led to a fascinating discussion about the books we were currently reading, with each of us recommending tilte after title to the other. With the die so cast, he thereafter introduced me to his wife, who regaled me with even more recommendations from her most recent reading list — an altogether different one from her husband’s, but no less interesting.

Only upon leaving the establishment, after hands were shaken and business cards exchanged (mine, anyway), did I realize that that was the most fun I had had in a bookstore in as long as I can remember. How often can a person walk into a bookstore and end up animatedly discussing books with like-minded individuals? Certainly mine was a chance encounter, but one that would not have been possible had it not taken place at A Different Bookstore and had its owners been other than who they are.

My dad passed on an interesting reader on business strategy my way, which contained the gem that follows. It’s made the rounds on email and elsewhere, for which reason I haven’t attributed it to a specific source. Usually I would agonize about posting something with an epithet (here used twice) in it, but in this case it’s just…so true.

Incidentally, the version in the book is slightly different, and doesn’t contain the last line (before the “attribution”), but is substantially the same.

Enjoy!

The Creation

In the beginning was the plan
And then came the assumptions
And the assumptions were without form
And the plan was completely without substance
And the darkness was upon the faces of the employees

And they spake amongst themselves, saying
“It is a crock of shit and it stinks!”

And the employees went unto their supervisors, saying
“It is a pail of dung and none may abide the odor thereof.”

And the supervisors went unto their division managers, saying
“It is a vessel of fertilizer and none may abide its strength.”

And the division managers went unto their system managers, saying
“It contains that which aids plant growth and it is very strong.”

And the systems manager went unto the general manager, saying
“It promotes growth and is very powerful.”

And the general manager went unto the Board, saying
“This new plan will actively promote the growth and efficiency of this organization.”

And the Board looked upon the plan and saw that it was good
And the plan became policy.

This is how shit happens.

– Anonymous

The Economist Intelligence Unit recently released a white paper on global IT competitiveness. Sponsored by the Business Software Alliance, the report entitled The Means to Compete: Benchmarking IT Competitiveness ranks the IT industries of sixty-four countries. It develops a 100-point “IT industry competitiveness index” that takes into account such factors as each country’s prevailing business environment, government support for the industry, supply of skilled labor and existing technology infrastructure.

There are few surprises at the top of the list, with the United States taking the top spot (score: 77.4) followed by Japan and South Korea (72.7 and 67.2 respectively), although Switzerland (63.5) did manage to edge out tech-savvy Singapore (63.1) for the top-tenth ranking. Curiously, India — the darling of the Business Process Outsourcing world — landed forty-sixth out of sixty-four, barely edging out the Philippines with a score of 29.1 to 28.7. Meanwhile, rounding out the bottom of the list are Vietnam, Azerbaijan, Nigeria and Iran, each with scores below 20.

The entire report is available free, at least for now. A straightforward summary (showing the results) can also be obtained over at CNET.com.

Dance Dance Dance is only the second of Haruki Murakami’s novels that I’ve had the opportunity to read, and it manages to betray much about the author’s style. Elements of these include the way he adroitly manages to weave an entire tale around an unnamed protagonist, his penchant for interjecting thoughtful insights on modern-day life and society (in this case, capitalism), and his affinity for themes that plainly involve the human psyche. However, this tale involving odd interpersonal relationships and high-class call girls (albeit done mostly in good taste) that tries to be one part out-and-out fantasy, another part social critique, and a third part murder mystery tends to fall short of being the least bit satisfying.

Undoubtedly, the situations that Murakami’s unnamed protagonist finds himself in are of the sort that will not appeal to audiences of certain persuasions (did I mention the call girls?); yet the novel feels off for an entirely different reason. In truth, Dance Dance Dance is a novel that mostly meanders but doesn’t really get anywhere. Yes, Murakami manages to bring the novel (or more appropriately, the protagonist) around full circle. And yes, perhaps this “meandering” as I call it is but a device to drive home some broader point; after all, the book is entitled Dance Dance Dance, as if to say graceful motion for motion’s sake needs no other purpose, as with his storytelling (and without giving anything away “dancing” is also conspicuously referred to in the narrative for similar reasons).

Or perhaps I just missed the broader point, something I will be all too willing to admit.

Murakami is generally regarded as a masterful novelist, but I would submit that Dance Dance Dance demonstrates that he is a better short-story scribe instead. The sense of aimlessness found in this novel is akin to those in the tales of his collected anthologies, yet is a little much to bear given a novel’s length. Indeed, there is a large chunk of Dance Dance Dance that calls out for asking “what was that all about?” Then again, to say this is to acknowledge that Murakami does have that uncanny ability to get into one’s head: the exact same question, in a none too dissimilar context, also figures prominently in the narrative.

Maybe I need more time to let this novel sink in; it might just be that type of book that merits further thought, especially for those (such as myself) who claim no particular affinity towards literature (as I said, maybe I missed the point). However, as a serial reader — albeit a casual one — I would go so far as to say that Dance Dance Dance is perhaps best left to the serious Murakami enthusiast, if not the dedicated reader willing to dance, dance, dance with the story until grasping it becomes practically second nature.

Obviously, my posts have been few and infrequent of late. In part, it’s because I have less need of an outlet while here in Manila, where there are actual people I can actually talk to (which itself is a sad commentary on my near-hermit existence in New York). Naturally, the fact that I’m technically on vacation also has something to do with it.

But mostly, it’s because I’ve been keeping myself busy with this.

Those of you who know me are well aware that my involvement there is part of the package (personally, I don’t mind and actually quite like it); but really what’s been keeping me busy is setting up the entire site. Call it a cross between “me and my big mouth” and “putting my money where my mouth is.” However the site/blog project got started, once the die was cast there was no turning back.

It hasn’t been the easiest thing to do. Not only are my web-authoring skills very limited, but what I had in mind was something that our existing server can’t quite accommodate. So the site’ll also be hosted temporarily by WordPress until such time as I can work out the kinks and port it over to our existing URL. But for the most part the site is fully functional and is nearly what I envision it to be.

So there it is. If on occasion the lights are on here and nobody’s home, I’ve probably spent a bit of time writing over yonder, where readers are welcome all the same.

Traveling can be exciting, but it can be a chore, too. For me, travel lost a little bit more of its luster recently: while renewing my passport, I learned that I am now discouraged — if not prohibited — from having a picture in which I am smiling.

At least, that’s what the lady taking my ID photo reminded me. While there doesn’t seem to be any indication that this is an official requirement from on high, I suppose these people have taken (and re-taken) enough photos to know what’s what. It wouldn’t surprise me if this were indeed the case, however: while applying for the required papers over the summer, the checklist for the Shchengen visa explicitly stated that the required photo must feature “a neutral expression.” Meanwhile, in the process of applying for a Swiss visa, I asked whether there were similar restrictions on the accompanying photo. To this, the bemused consular officer informed me their government was strict with respect to the pictures on their national ID cards, but not when it came to visa applications (as of yet).

Is there some global movement towards non-smiling photos in accompanying official documents? That would be sad. Certainly, there is a case to be made that such rules prevent people from trying to be “cute” with their pictures, more so given that official documents require one to look, well, official. As such, smiling of the excessive variety can come across as a sign of whimsy and disrespect wholly inappropriate to the said picture’s purpose. But on the other hand, pictures of record should at the very least present the person in question in the best possible light, which in most instances involves even the simplest of smiles. That is important, too.

Why fear the smile? Is there some presumption that immigration officials will be unduly charmed to let a person through the border because of a smiling photo? Are smiles insulting? Does a blanket ban on smiling photos keep those looking at them from having to make a judgment as to whether the smile is genuine or mocking, from discerning if it is an attempt to come across as pleasant or merely a disguised sarcastic sneer? Is it easier to distinguish between harmless traveler and incipient terrorist by having people maintain “a neutral expression?” But then — horror of horrors — what happens if a person’s “neutral expression” really just happens to be a smiling one?

It’s not the smile that governments and officials of the world should discourage but exactly the opposite. After being reminded not to flash a smile for my photo I immediately adopted a more serious expression. “Hey, you don’t need to look sad,” was the photographer’s reaction after I literally wiped the smile off my face. The irony, however, is that I wasn’t trying to: I just happen to have a default expression that tends to be stern and severe. I presume I’m not the only one, either, and can’t help but pity the persons that have to look at that photo…and the many more like it.