BRAIN DRAIN

I can think of at least three good reasons why Paul Torday’s Salmon Fishing in the Yemen is well worth reading.

First, there’s the storytelling approach. The premise of the book involves a seemingly whimsical project to introduce salmon fishing to a wadi in the Yemen. To tell this tale, Torday presents the events not through the lens of straightforward narrative, but rather in the guise of the correspondences and documents which chronicle the project’s progress. On balance, it is an interesting method to get readers acquainted with the book’s dramatis personae and emotionally involved in their undertakings (in this case, the Yemeni Salmon Fishing Project). Granted, the novelty wears off soon enough, especially later in the book when Torday lapses into disguised narrative that detracts from the underlying mechanism and begins to write all characters with practically the same “voice”. Yet it is an entertaining window into the author’s vision, and one that easily draws readers in from beginning to end.

Second, it’s intelligent satire and socio-political commentary. In many ways, the purported Yemeni Salmon Project is a device allowing Torday to present his observations about modern day life, political bureaucracy, and the worldwide battle against terrorism. In this regard, the insights communicated are often humorous and the veiled criticisms rather biting. Even if the book were not intended to be a work of satire, it may as well be one.

Third, there is an inspiring message of faith and hope that underlies the entire story. This, above all else, should be the reason anyone should read Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. In fact, this message is communicated early on in the story — when the protagonist becomes sold on the absurd idea of bringing salmon fishing to the Yemeni desert — but it manages to hook the reader all the way to the end. To some degree this does mean that the bulk of the book is really just an exercise to see how events unfold, and in many ways the book ends somewhat abruptly, even if in the right place. Notwithstanding this, to appreciate the message that Torday attempts to convey and seeing it reinforced all the way through to the book’s conclusion makes for a thoroughly rewarding reading experience.

Kaare Andrews’ Spider-Man: Reign draws plenty of comparisons to Frank Miller’s iconic Batman story, The Dark Knight Returns. In the same way that DKR features a future Gotham City and an aged Bruce Wayne who decides to don the cowl once more, Reign revolves around a future New York City and a much older Peter Parker who is compelled to overcome his personal demons and again become Spider-Man. That Andrews acknowledges Miller’s influence on the book, giving subtle nods to DKR throughout, further fuels the flames of fandom.

With the bar set so high, how does Reign compare? Well enough, it turns out, for a much shorter and different superhero story.

In a sense, Andrews manages to do more with less in Reign than Miller accomplished with DKR. Both are “complete” tales steeped in their respective characters’ mythos, and both are entirely believable “what ifs” of their possible futures. Yet Reign is the shorter of the two, with much the same grit, polish and fan service. In this respect, at least, Reign truly is the Spider-Man equivalent of DKR, bringing to mind that saying about the sincerest form of flattery.

This is not to say that Reign is the better story, for indeed there are many things missing in Kaare Andrews finished product that keep it from matching or exceeding DKR, if such a thing were possible. For instance, Reign’s setting tends to overpower the character development, and there is one significant deus ex machina moment — explained as precisely that within the story — used to drive the plot along that doesn’t quite fit. Yet taken for what it is, it’s hard to miss the fact that Andrews has gotten the most important thing about Reign right: it is undeniably a very good Spider-Man story, one with a keen appreciation of the character and his supporting cast. In this, the emotional exchanges between Peter and Mary Jane, either imagined or in flashback (she’s already passed away at the time of the story) really shine and couldn’t have been written any better.

It’s almost unfair that any comic even remotely resembling Frank Miller’s DKR simply invites comparison. And so it is with Reign, which manages to hold up to such scrutiny both as an homage to the original and an excellent Spider-Man story on its own right.

Sure, in some cities in the world cars like these don’t turn heads as much. Heck, Europe has a whole bunch of them, and I’m pretty sure that in cities where the glitterati are a dime a dozen (here’s looking at you, Hollywood!) luxury cars like these can’t be far behind.

But come on. A Lamborghini? Casually parked? On a sidewalk in the big city?

Fuhgedaboudit!

My brother got me a copy of Touch Detective for Christmas that I’ve only managed to try out and wrap up recently. On the whole it’s a decent enough game, yet because it falls short on several fronts it is at best only an average title for the Nintendo DS.

In broad strokes, everything about the game seems to be right up the alley of someone with an affinity for the mystery genre and for casual gaming. Players play the part of the titular Touch Detective, Mackenzie, who aspires to make it into the ranks of the Great Detective Society. To do this, she must prove her mettle, and thus players undertake four unusual cases, directing Mackenzie to investigate people, places and things by tapping around on the touch screen. In this regard, it’s simple gameplay akin to ye ole point-and-click mysteries on the PC of years back. More, the visual style of Touch Detective is quite unique, presented as it is in a pseudo-anime fashion that is above all else eye-catching.

So what’s not to love about Touch Detective? In truth, the game often feels disjointed, mostly because the gameplay feels broken in so many areas. Particularly, the main problem lies in that the script is often too obtuse, so much so that there are some points in the game where players are left with absolutely no idea what to do next. Granted, it is a mystery title and thus not everything should be spelled out in big bold letters; yet even taking that as given, sometimes experimentation becomes useless because the game depends so much on sequence. Far too often, the story can only be pushed along if players “touch” the appropriate items on the screen in the correct order, which would not be a problem if there was the slightest hint that such is actually required. Speaking from experience, there were maybe two or three instances where I found myself stuck after performing an action, and no amount of exploring helped me move the story along — until, that is, I clicked on the character beside me, something I had no reason to do in the context of how the story was unfolding.

This doesn’t mean that I hated the game; personally, it’s something I fancy if on principle: it’s a detective game on the DS, after all. At best, perhaps only one of the four cases in the storyline is really worth playing through, while the remaining three have slivers of brilliance that just don’t live up to their potential, for the reasons identified above. So yes, I liked the game enough, warts and all — but certainly not enough to go and invest in the sequel.

Finding a good book about science can be challenging. It’s not that there is a dearth of quality material; indeed, in this regard there is probably no better time to be a science buff than the present, with any manner of resources ripe for the picking off bookstore shelves. Rather, the real problem lies in finding material that is accessible to the average reader. Scientists, after all, are neither necessarily gifted writers nor trained journalists, for which reason the Carl Sagans and Stephen Hawkings of this world are true gems.

And then Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything comes along, restoring our faith that there can be informative and entertaining science books that are not the least bit esoteric.

It’s not just the content that makes the book stand out, nor is it only Bryson’s trademark talent and wit. With regard to the former, readers can be assured that the volume is based upon the author’s research and consultation with noted experts in their respective fields. As for the latter, clearly Bryson is in his element, breathing new life to the concepts and controversies that have illuminated (if not occasionally beguiled) our understanding of how the universe works. Instead, where the book truly shines is in its approach of weaving together the great discoveries and debates of scientific inquiry into one coherent story.

This is why the book’s title is no exaggeration: A Short History of Nearly Everything is as much a science book as it is a history of scientific discovery. It is by no means an all-exhaustive one, to be sure, yet it surveys key contributions to geology, chemistry, physics, paleontology and a host of other disciplines in a manner that shows how they interrelate, thereby compelling readers to contemplate what implications these may have upon the human race.

In sum, Bill Bryson’s book is not just a science book done right, but a science book done well.

Some time after I got back to New York, I passed by Macy’s while doing some errands. It so happened that the department store had a “Flower Parade” theme going, with the interior decked out in any manner of exotic flowers and arrangements.

Pictured above is the “bouqet of the day” from when I dropped by. Some might argue that it’s rather plain, especially compared to floats and props from other parades that often air on television. Yet having seen it myself, I think this one is nothing to sneeze at. Unless you happen to be allergic!

A number of circumstances conspired to get me fixated upon getting a new pair of eyeglasses. In large part, seeing the wear and tear on my existing pair did the most to convince me that I needed new ones, as did their more recent tendency to slip off if my head were inclined just so. That the optical shops in my neighborhood began their markdowns for Spring also began egging me on, to the point that I just couldn’t resist. Besides, after walking into one such store to have a look around I managed to find just the one that caught my fancy. So now I find myself obsessed — albeit mildly — on a particular pair of Oakley prescription frames.

I’ve owned a similar pair before, so knowing they can be a bit much I set out to find the best deal I could before taking the plunge. Hence, on the day I was bitten by the bug I spent a good amount of time online “window shopping”, scanning through frames of different styles and colors and comparing their prices. Unfortunately, the few that were to my liking weren’t available to order online, nor did the optical shop around the corner have them on hand, though they did offer to order it for me if I wanted. But I wanted to see what they were like for myself, so I decided to make the trip to the Oakley store in SoHo to try my luck (and have a look around, naturally).

Anyone obsessed with Oakleys would have felt like a kid in a candy store at their retail outlet. Not only were there wall to wall displays of all manner of eyewear, but they also offered an “assemble your own” option for people to customize their own lenses, not just in terms of shape of the frame or shade (and polarity) of the lenses but up to and including engraving on the lenses (if that’s your sort of thing). Unfortunately, against such a backdrop their display of prescription frames was nothing short of underwhelming, relegated to a solitary corner of the store amounting to a narrow single-column set of shelves.

They did have the frame I’d settled on, though not in the color I would have wanted, at the standard retail price of $200 even.

I decided to sleep on it first to give me some time to think it over.

On the way back to my apartment, I popped into the optical store that was willing to order it for me to see if they could offer a better deal. Their clerk asked me for the details and promptly picked up the phone and placed a call to Oakley. I could only make out half of the conversation he was having with the sales representative on the other end (”Do you have them available? Uh-huh. Okay. That long?”), from which I figured out that the pair I wanted was backordered. “And how much would it cost?” he asked. Then, “How much should it retail?” Following that exchange, the clerk thanked his counterpart, put down the phone and relayed the information to me.

“So?” I asked.

“Well, the frames are out of stock right now, but they’re expecting a delivery in the next two weeks.

“Oh, and it’ll cost $240.”

At that point I told him I’d think about it, thanked him for the trouble, and headed home.

The entire episode made me think about how shopping is really a matter of asymmetric information. No doubt that the glasses themselves must cost much less than $200 for Oakley to sell them and still make a profit; but consumers don’t know that. Naturally, the optical shop also needs to make some margin from the resale of the frames (albeit with lenses), so they tack on a value-added premium for just that reason. Yet consumers don’t necessarily know that either — unless of course they happen to have asked around at the source and done the math for themselves.

In a perfect world, informed consumers should be able to make use of this information to their advantage by browbeating (i.e., bargaining with) retailers to get what they want at the price they desire. But the world is hardly perfect, and in the end neither the Oakley outlet nor the optical shop made a sale — because I was aware of how much the frames should cost, and they didn’t know that. Score another one for consumer empowerment.

Then again, this also means that I don’t have that stylish new pair of frames I’m still obsessing over. But a hollow victory is a victory nonetheless.

…but nobody’s home.

It’s that time of the year again for the usual family vacation, so I’ll be away for most of May. Actually, I’ve already taken off a few days ago, and the fact this post and the one that came before it were published at all is only because the site can do such things automatically. Ain’t technology great?

Speaking of which, since there’s no telling whether I’ll have readily available internet access while I’m away, I’ve taken the liberty of frontloading some posts. I’d already written them (which is usually the case, in case nobody knew), and it’d be a shame not to put them up. They should appear magically every three to four days, so my usual audience — the few of you — can get your fix as usual. I’ll respond to any and all comments when I get back.

So here’s me signing off. Or not. Whatever.

Will be back in June.