Policemen actually scare me, and the only reason is that I am afraid of getting arrested—I always slow down when passing a policeman regardless of my speed. These policemen did not scare me, but the book did a little.
Humor:
I loved the writing. I'm not sure what I got out of the book, though. Incidentally, I was reading some Douglas Adams at the same time and found them very different. For some reason, british humor is funnier to me in a british accent (even if it's just in my mind), and I also thought that TTP was funnier with an Irish accent. I don't claim that I have a very good understanding of either culture, but I feel more at ease with the English than the Irish. I don't particularly like Joyce (though I found the writing reminiscent), and haven't read any Beckett. but I liked this book, and hope to read more Nolan.
Moral:
I would say the moral is: don't waste your life. While de Selby was amusing, I felt sorry for the ___tagonist wasting his life's purpose, then killing the old man. I think that may be why in Hell he didn't know who he was—he'd wasted his mortal existence.
Crackpot theory?
I did like the boxes—I loved when the one policeman pretended to find the smallest box, but the other one knew he was faking.
The part of the book that I liked the best was the bicycles—that we loose our humanity to a machine (or anything really) by trading characteristics seems like an amusing exploration into the afterlife for the wicked.
I'm sure I'm just dense, but why is the third policeman important? Why not The Three Policemen?
Showing posts with label The Third Policeman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Third Policeman. Show all posts
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
An Obsession with Infinitesimals
O'Brien's literary genealogy: This book is what would happen if James Joyce and Albert Camus collaborated. The warm but subtly satirical descriptions of the everyday Irish life and the sharp-edged existential absurdity of post-WWI continental philosophy. The absurd humor mingled with warm characters reminds me of his countryman and fellow Joyce acolyte Samuel Beckett.
Connections to Lost: I recognized lots of themes from Lost. The hint that this is all a weird afterlife experience, the apparent materiality of dead characters, the obsession with fantastic mechanisms. When the narrator spends an evening conversing in conversation with a withered dead man in an empty, dark room I immediately saw Jacob's shack (don't worry Alvin; you'll get there).
Indelible images: I think the subterranean paradise where you can have anything you want, can grow no older, experience no hunger or weariness, that is brought about by a complex series of metal doors and tubes and corridors is the image I will remember longest. The hugely grotesque Sgt. Pluck and the aforementioned conversation with the ghost-who-is-not-a-ghost Mathers are other strong images.
Moral, or lack thereof: I didn't see there being any moral to this story. Mostly, I saw an author fascinated by the strangeness that infinitesimals foist upon us all. Like the boxes within boxes, the needle that is so sharp and narrow at its point that it can pass two-inches through your finger before it actually makes contact, the litany of things that aren't (e.g. Pluck trying to guess the narrator's name). All of these are variations on Zenos paradoxes (paradice?). Luckily, I'm a discretist and so appreciate the infinitesimal as a useful fiction without allowing it to lead me into logical paralysis.
Related to this theme is the obsession (carried out mostly in the de Selby footnotes, but also a bit in the question over the narrator's identity) with pseudonyms and the logic of who is pretending to be who. The author of the book uses actually a pseudonym, and published several other literary works under several other pseudonyms. The inability to distinguish what is the truth (is du Garbandier impersonating Kraus or is du Gabandier actually Kraus in disguise, or is it actually a third author pretending to be both) is another fascinating bit of logic.
In the end, I enjoyed it very much. Thanks for the good read.
Connections to Lost: I recognized lots of themes from Lost. The hint that this is all a weird afterlife experience, the apparent materiality of dead characters, the obsession with fantastic mechanisms. When the narrator spends an evening conversing in conversation with a withered dead man in an empty, dark room I immediately saw Jacob's shack (don't worry Alvin; you'll get there).
Indelible images: I think the subterranean paradise where you can have anything you want, can grow no older, experience no hunger or weariness, that is brought about by a complex series of metal doors and tubes and corridors is the image I will remember longest. The hugely grotesque Sgt. Pluck and the aforementioned conversation with the ghost-who-is-not-a-ghost Mathers are other strong images.
Moral, or lack thereof: I didn't see there being any moral to this story. Mostly, I saw an author fascinated by the strangeness that infinitesimals foist upon us all. Like the boxes within boxes, the needle that is so sharp and narrow at its point that it can pass two-inches through your finger before it actually makes contact, the litany of things that aren't (e.g. Pluck trying to guess the narrator's name). All of these are variations on Zenos paradoxes (paradice?). Luckily, I'm a discretist and so appreciate the infinitesimal as a useful fiction without allowing it to lead me into logical paralysis.
Related to this theme is the obsession (carried out mostly in the de Selby footnotes, but also a bit in the question over the narrator's identity) with pseudonyms and the logic of who is pretending to be who. The author of the book uses actually a pseudonym, and published several other literary works under several other pseudonyms. The inability to distinguish what is the truth (is du Garbandier impersonating Kraus or is du Gabandier actually Kraus in disguise, or is it actually a third author pretending to be both) is another fascinating bit of logic.
In the end, I enjoyed it very much. Thanks for the good read.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Infinity Policeman
I initially posted this as a comment to Karl's post, but I thought it was long enough to be awarded its own spot on the blog.
I really enjoyed the first couple of chapters. The authors use of words amazed me; great metaphors and similes. To paraphrase one of my favorites from the book ... friendly and comforting like the pockets of an old suit. He combined words that I never would have thought of putting next to one another. It reminded me of Ratatouille, where Remy the rat is able to combine foods in such a unique and perfect way. But my attitude towards the book began to change when I started into the chapter that contained the box within the box within the box etc., ... it was oddly unsettling, as was nearly everything the 2nd policeman said. The book became more interesting, or at least enjoyable, as I spent less time dwelling upon the dialogue and focused more on the story.
First, what'd you think of the humor?
I enjoy British humor, in fact I was thinking of proposing Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency as the book for October, but 3rd Policeman seemed to contain silliness more than the wittiness that I associate with the Brits, though there were a few good play-on-words.
If you had to say, succinctly, the moral of the story, what would it be?
don't be amoral.
Okay. Elaborate.
You sow what you reap. The punishment fits the crime.
In a way, it's similar to what I believe; there is not one heaven and one hell. The gradation in the degrees of glory is just and appropriate to what individuals have obtained and can endure.
What was your favorite crackpot theory of the book?
The version of the book that I picked up from the library was a compilation of the complete writings of "Flann O'Brien," so when I saw the footnotes, I assumed that they were written by an editor. When I read about the amazing waterbox, I got curious and googled "De Selby waterbox." Imagine my embarrasment when I realized I had been duped. So, I guess De Selby's obsession with water and his theory of diluting it is strongest in my memory.
Lastly, what was your favorite "image" of the book?
Probably the image of the third policeman's suggestion of what the narrator could buy with the contents of the black box, a room filled with jam (though it would necessitate a neighboring room filled with crunchy peanut butter).
So, what do you think this book has to do with the show LOST?
I really enjoyed the first couple of chapters. The authors use of words amazed me; great metaphors and similes. To paraphrase one of my favorites from the book ... friendly and comforting like the pockets of an old suit. He combined words that I never would have thought of putting next to one another. It reminded me of Ratatouille, where Remy the rat is able to combine foods in such a unique and perfect way. But my attitude towards the book began to change when I started into the chapter that contained the box within the box within the box etc., ... it was oddly unsettling, as was nearly everything the 2nd policeman said. The book became more interesting, or at least enjoyable, as I spent less time dwelling upon the dialogue and focused more on the story.
First, what'd you think of the humor?
I enjoy British humor, in fact I was thinking of proposing Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency as the book for October, but 3rd Policeman seemed to contain silliness more than the wittiness that I associate with the Brits, though there were a few good play-on-words.
If you had to say, succinctly, the moral of the story, what would it be?
don't be amoral.
Okay. Elaborate.
You sow what you reap. The punishment fits the crime.
In a way, it's similar to what I believe; there is not one heaven and one hell. The gradation in the degrees of glory is just and appropriate to what individuals have obtained and can endure.
What was your favorite crackpot theory of the book?
The version of the book that I picked up from the library was a compilation of the complete writings of "Flann O'Brien," so when I saw the footnotes, I assumed that they were written by an editor. When I read about the amazing waterbox, I got curious and googled "De Selby waterbox." Imagine my embarrasment when I realized I had been duped. So, I guess De Selby's obsession with water and his theory of diluting it is strongest in my memory.
Lastly, what was your favorite "image" of the book?
Probably the image of the third policeman's suggestion of what the narrator could buy with the contents of the black box, a room filled with jam (though it would necessitate a neighboring room filled with crunchy peanut butter).
So, what do you think this book has to do with the show LOST?
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Third Policeman
I finished the book a few weeks ago, actually, and it's taken me a while to figure out what to make of it. And, in fact, I still don't have anything too intelligent to say about it, so here's some conversation starter questions I came up with, along with my thoughts.
First, what'd you think of the humor?
It wasn't as humorous as I thought it would be (perhaps because some of it got old after a while). Still, there were a lot of moments that reminded me of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy or Monty Python. Is anybody out there knowledgeable enough about British humor to be able to place "The Third Policeman" on some sort of comedic-influence genealogical tree?
If you had to say, succinctly, the moral of the story, what would it be?
I think I'd go for "moderation in all things."
Okay. Elaborate.
Everybody in the story appeared to have an unhealthy obsession with something. So much so that they're unable to see the big picture of what's going on. The boxes within boxes, the endless measurements, the pursuit of what's in the box, the DeShelby fetish, and so on. I especially like the boxes within the boxes--it's an unquenchable pursuit that will never end.
It is the pro(an)tognist's unhealthy obsession with DeShelby that leads him to basically hand his estate over to another man, justify murder and theft, walk blindly into an obvious trap, and even forget his own name. This obsession is easily transferable to the box, which at first is simply a means of preserving himself against the downfall of his estate, but soon becomes his sole reason for living--so that night and day he obsesses about it. The substance of the box, once simply assumed to be gold, in his imagination turns into absolute power to do anything and get anything he wants.
These obsessions turn into his hell. In other words, his hell is to be in constant pursuit of what he can never have. I think it's interesting that his hell is not the knowledge that he can never have what he wants, but that he must pursue it endlessly without knowing he can never have it.
(Note that the third policeman has much more mundane and practical designs for the substance of the box. Not quite sure what to make of that).
What was your favorite crackpot theory of the book?
I think DeShelby's theory that you could see the beginning of time via two mirrors facing each other was my favorite. Mostly because it took me a while to articulate to myself why the theory was wrong.
Lastly, what was your favorite "image" of the book?
I would have to go with the army of one-legged men with their wooden legs tied to each other's good leg.
First, what'd you think of the humor?
It wasn't as humorous as I thought it would be (perhaps because some of it got old after a while). Still, there were a lot of moments that reminded me of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy or Monty Python. Is anybody out there knowledgeable enough about British humor to be able to place "The Third Policeman" on some sort of comedic-influence genealogical tree?
If you had to say, succinctly, the moral of the story, what would it be?
I think I'd go for "moderation in all things."
Okay. Elaborate.
Everybody in the story appeared to have an unhealthy obsession with something. So much so that they're unable to see the big picture of what's going on. The boxes within boxes, the endless measurements, the pursuit of what's in the box, the DeShelby fetish, and so on. I especially like the boxes within the boxes--it's an unquenchable pursuit that will never end.
It is the pro(an)tognist's unhealthy obsession with DeShelby that leads him to basically hand his estate over to another man, justify murder and theft, walk blindly into an obvious trap, and even forget his own name. This obsession is easily transferable to the box, which at first is simply a means of preserving himself against the downfall of his estate, but soon becomes his sole reason for living--so that night and day he obsesses about it. The substance of the box, once simply assumed to be gold, in his imagination turns into absolute power to do anything and get anything he wants.
These obsessions turn into his hell. In other words, his hell is to be in constant pursuit of what he can never have. I think it's interesting that his hell is not the knowledge that he can never have what he wants, but that he must pursue it endlessly without knowing he can never have it.
(Note that the third policeman has much more mundane and practical designs for the substance of the box. Not quite sure what to make of that).
What was your favorite crackpot theory of the book?
I think DeShelby's theory that you could see the beginning of time via two mirrors facing each other was my favorite. Mostly because it took me a while to articulate to myself why the theory was wrong.
Lastly, what was your favorite "image" of the book?
I would have to go with the army of one-legged men with their wooden legs tied to each other's good leg.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
August Book, and more on SSM
Next month's book
So I just remembered that I have the book choice for next month (and I just realized that July is almost over). I had originally thought to do Obama's first book, "Dreams of My Father," but I'm all politicked out right now. (FYI, the book has very little to do with politics, and was written at a time when he was still pretty far removed from the political arena, which is why I think it's a very good way to judge his character).
Instead, I've selected The Third Policeman. It's a surrealist story by a not very widely known Irish author named Flann O'Brien. I read a review in the Atlantic on it a while back that peaked my interest (the connections to Lost helped as well).
I've not read it yet, but I have no reason to suspect objectionable content. I will warn people if I find any. I do, however, suspect that some may find it to be a very odd read, so you might want to read some of the reviews before deciding whether or not to buy it.
More on SSM
(this started as part of a comment on Peter's last post, and just started to get too big)
Regarding court decisions on SSM, I do believe that our governments, in basing any sort of law or benefit on marital status, and furthermore by creating mechanisms by which to "validate" a marriage, have created a government-sponsored institution of marriage. If government creates an institution, it also creates a right for individuals who meet the necessary criteria to belong to that institution. Therefore, the right to marry does exists. Just because there are qualifications on that right, does not mean it is not a right--e.g., there are many qualifications on free speech, nonetheless, it is a right.
The question before the courts, in my mind, was "is there a compeling reason for making gender a criteria for the right to marry?" The courts could not think of such a reason, and therefore they did what they had to do. It was this exact same framework that brought about the civil rights movement, and it is exactly this kind of purpose for which our judiciary exists. Now, the burden is upon the legislative branch to either write laws for which there is a clear and compelling secular reason, or upon us as a people to amend the constitution to explicitly define this right to marry.
Personally, I believe that, barring some compelling secular reason that I've so far not seen formulated, government should be marriage-agnostic. It should remove any reference to marriage in its laws and procedures. From a religious standpoint, does it really matter whether government recognizes my marriage?
So I just remembered that I have the book choice for next month (and I just realized that July is almost over). I had originally thought to do Obama's first book, "Dreams of My Father," but I'm all politicked out right now. (FYI, the book has very little to do with politics, and was written at a time when he was still pretty far removed from the political arena, which is why I think it's a very good way to judge his character).
Instead, I've selected The Third Policeman. It's a surrealist story by a not very widely known Irish author named Flann O'Brien. I read a review in the Atlantic on it a while back that peaked my interest (the connections to Lost helped as well).
I've not read it yet, but I have no reason to suspect objectionable content. I will warn people if I find any. I do, however, suspect that some may find it to be a very odd read, so you might want to read some of the reviews before deciding whether or not to buy it.
More on SSM
(this started as part of a comment on Peter's last post, and just started to get too big)
Regarding court decisions on SSM, I do believe that our governments, in basing any sort of law or benefit on marital status, and furthermore by creating mechanisms by which to "validate" a marriage, have created a government-sponsored institution of marriage. If government creates an institution, it also creates a right for individuals who meet the necessary criteria to belong to that institution. Therefore, the right to marry does exists. Just because there are qualifications on that right, does not mean it is not a right--e.g., there are many qualifications on free speech, nonetheless, it is a right.
The question before the courts, in my mind, was "is there a compeling reason for making gender a criteria for the right to marry?" The courts could not think of such a reason, and therefore they did what they had to do. It was this exact same framework that brought about the civil rights movement, and it is exactly this kind of purpose for which our judiciary exists. Now, the burden is upon the legislative branch to either write laws for which there is a clear and compelling secular reason, or upon us as a people to amend the constitution to explicitly define this right to marry.
Personally, I believe that, barring some compelling secular reason that I've so far not seen formulated, government should be marriage-agnostic. It should remove any reference to marriage in its laws and procedures. From a religious standpoint, does it really matter whether government recognizes my marriage?
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