Etymology words

http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2011/10/28/iran_assassination_plot_plausible_culpability?page=0,1
derring do

From Russia With Love

Well while waiting for the next book in my series to arrive, I've decided to read something else. over the summer, I'd wanted to read all the original james bond books. Sadly I only got through three. So now I'm reading From Russia With Love by Ian Flemming, who as I just found out was a secret agent during the second world war. So far I like the book better than the other ones I read over the summer, her Majesties Secret Service, I found drab and boorish. Having seen the movie, I know how the book ends. getting there however has had many changes.

Wake

Well I'm now starting a new series and I thought that I'd write about my impressions thus far. WWW: Wake is sort of a science fiction novel and sort of not. The basic premise of the book is that a girl who has been blind since birth is given an ocular implant and with that meets and helps form a sentient being that exists entirely on the internet. Named Webmind, it is the internet given consciousness. The book so far has revolved around the actions and consequences of the internet suddenly gaining the ability to think for itself. I find the entire thing quite intriguing in a way. Its not as if I would want the internet to actually gain sentience, but I find the idea of a being existing entirely on the internet interesting to say the least. Another subplot that links in with the rest of the novel is the emergence of a bird flu epidemic in China and its cover-up. The quest of a few Chinese bloggers and hackers to break through the so called, "Great Firewall of China" links directly to Webmind when their efforts to breakdown the wall between China's internet and the rest of the worlds result in an increasingly intelligent internet that because of their efforts has seemed to have gained sentience. I'm really looking forward to the next two books, more than I have of any series in quite a long time. I'll be back with a post when I get my hands on WWW: Watch and WWW: Wonder in the near future.

Diction Bingo thing

Rule 2
“I’m not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything” is an ideal example of the childish and disheartened diction of Salinger. 

Rule 1

He says whatever comes to mind, saying that his parents "would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them," shows that he doesn't really care what he says, just wants to get his point across.

 
Rule 6
the author uses high language to describe the lobby of his office building along with his over the top apperance.

Rule 2
"Turned toward the escalators, carrying a black Penguin paperback and a small white CVS bag, its receipt stapled over the top," describes the harsh clattering of the setting.

Rule 6
The exert The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker uses high language as he decribes the lobby and escalators as, "area of shine where it fell against their brushed steel side panels."


Best overall
http://ascrapofparchment.blogspot.com/2011/10/teenage-angst-in-literature.html

Practice Diction Analysis

In the excerpt from Catcher in the Rye, the conversational and common language and tone of the narrator helps to emphasize his apathetic views of life and the period of rebellion he has gone through. The narrator describes his parents as "quite touchy," before going right back and calling them "nice." Together his words help to show off his conflicting opinions about his parents and the period of growing that he seems to either be in the middle of or about to finish. His allusion to "all that David Copperfield kind of crap," display that while his words and phrases don't do well to portray his maturity, the fact that he pulls an allusion like that out of his hat alludes to him being more intelligent or more mature than he lets on in the first part of the book.

Currently

Second Foundation- 1-150
War and Peace 1-50

Style Mapping Picks

In contrast to Stardust, Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian suggest a low energy, and expressively depicts an open prairie during the night. http://kaylaepicblogger.blogspot.com/2011/10/style-mapping.html

Cormac McCarthy's figurative-language-heavy introduction to Blood Meridian balances both an earthy grittiness and an elevated vocabulary as McCarthy describes the surroundings. http://academiczengerine.blogspot.com/

Dostoevsky's course, grating diction highlights his wrathful Russian background. He refers to an apartment as a "garret in which he lodged" and transitions with phrases like "quite the contrary."  http://laughapalooza22.blogspot.com/

Dissimilare to Stardust, Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian demonstrates a thorough understanding of classy, picturesque language. http://skullandglossbones3.blogspot.com/

The reason I picked these excerts was that I thought that they were all the most credible sounding sentences. They were also some of the only ones I could find, maybe not everyone labeled their's under a style mapping title, even so these were some of the only ones I could find.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

            “War hero killed in Faslane! Navy headquarters burned to the ground. Read all about it! German involvement suspected!” shouted numerous newsboys as Mortimer Wolff walked to work. While he walked he tossed a newsboy a shilling and received a paper in return. Ignoring the paperboy’s thanks, he walked off and sat on a street bench to read the paper. Reading it however was at the moment beyond him. The pounding in the back of his head increased as he tried to read. Sighing in disgust Mortimer pulled his hat lower to block out the sun, tucked the paper under his arm, and trudged along to his work.

            The son of a minister at Whitehall, Mortimer had for the past 5 years worked as a police officer in London. At the beginning of his career, Mortimer had quickly risen through the ranks. However according to some a divorce and the pressures of work caused his drinking problem which had always been there to skyrocket. In what seemed to his hung over brain as much too long, Mortimer finally arrived at the headquarters of the London police force. As he walked in, the various secretaries and officers he passed looked up from their work and shook their heads. The office workers and especially his fellow police officers treated him with contempt and disdain. He liked few of them and trusted none of them. All would like to see him fall, albeit for different reasons. The officers thought of him as a stain upon their honor while the office workers disliked him for the many reports his activities made them file and the contempt with which he treated those under him. The office was a whitewashed building of three stories. It was usually bustling with activity as Glasgow’s crime rate was among the highest in Britain. As he walked in Mortimer hung his coat on the rack and walked toward his desk at the back of the first floor nearest to the window with the draft. As he began to get set up for work as best he could when hung over, he heard the shuffle of footsteps toward his desk. Mortimer looked up with a grimace at the light and than groaned in his head as he noticed who had come to visit, Rupert Makepeace, Chief of Police.

Makepeace was in Mortimer’s eyes an idiot. His preoccupation with rules, regulations, and other forms of red tape had chafed with Mortimer’s pragmatism. After one case when Rupert had gotten Mortimer demoted because he had not waited for a warrant to arrest a man who they both knew was guilty of murder, and who later went on to terrorize Glasgow for the next month before being caught. After that incident Mortimer and Rupert’s relationship which had never been very stable became utterly abysmal. Rupert made Mortimer’s life a living hell while Mortimer used his contacts in the government to put continuous pressure on Rupert. It was a game the two of them played, sadly the favors Mortimer could call in lessened over time, while Rupert’s influence in Scotland Yard remained as strong as ever. They rarely ever exchanged more than a glare and some sharp biting comment today however was different.

            “Good morning Mortimer. How have you been? Good I hope.” said Rupert, although his expression and tone made it obvious that he most definitely hoped otherwise. Rupert sniffed the air and his face lit up, “Drinking before work again Mortimer?” He looked as if he was going to continue with some other smart remark but Mortimer; tired of Rupert’s games, cut him off.

“Yes,” said Mortimer, “I do it to celebrate that I’m not a useless pencil pusher who sits behind a desk all day.”  He wasn’t usually that blunt with Rupert but his throbbing headache overrode what little common sense he had left this morning. However it didn’t produce result Mortimer had been expecting. Instead of anger, Rupert just smiled and continued on.

            “We’ll see who’s so smug Wolff when you look at the report I’ve had drafted. I have decided that you deserve one more chance. If you can catch the man who killed Colonel Cathcart you’ll remain on the force if not….” Rupert let it hang in the air before handing Mortimer the case file and walking off whistling a cheery tune.

            “But..but..but you can’t do that!” Mortimer yelled not caring about who in the little office he disturbed.

            “Can’t I?” said Makepeace, “I was under the assumption that drinking on the job as well as that mess in east side a few weeks ago would be more than enough evidence to throw you out? Was I wrong?!” He slammed his fist down on the desk making it shake, he then let the comment hang, and as usual had the last word. The look of contempt on Makepeace’s face combined with the shock of his words was almost a physical blow in Mortimer’s mind he took a step back.

            “You’re a disgrace to the force Mortimer,” said a fellow officer from across the room. His name if Mortimer remembered right was Gary. He was the son of some higher up in the government. He’d been on the force for only six months, and in those months had made himself a nuisance to Mortimer by reporting Mortimer’s violations to Makepeace whenever Mortimer crossed the line, “You’ve had this coming for a long time.”

            “Gary you bastard, you haven’t been working here long enough to say a “long time”. You’re just a kid in an adult’s world. You’ll be lucky to survive another year. I’ll be lucky if you don’t.”

            “That’s funny coming from a drunkard about to be fired,” replied the younger man savagely. His features took on a look of grim satisfaction as he smiled. He got up from his chair and walked over to where Mortimer and Makepeace were standing. He looked as if he were going to continue that thought, but he never got the chance.

As the younger man smiled, Mortimer, driven into a rage, threw his coffee still piping hot from the machine into the younger man’s face. He than turned around and stormed out of the office. Gary screamed and fell back onto his desk while trying to keep the coffee out of his eyes. Rupert reached for his .45 and nearly got it clear of the hoister before his second in command Quentin said, “He’s not worth it Rupert!”

 After walking the short distance between the station and the small apartment he was renting.For the rest of the day Mortimer looked over the report that his career now rested on. After the first few minutes he realized why Rupert and his cohorts had chosen this case. The evidence was minimal at best. The bullet was a.32 caliber likely fired from a pistol. However because .32 caliber guns were so widely available, it was almost impossible to determine the model of the firearm that had killed Cathcart, though the model of the bullet was Russian in manufacture. With no evidence found by the squad, there was very little to go on.

The only lead was the dead man, Cathcart. After calling a few men who had worked with Cathcart Mortimer found that the man had had very few friends outside the military, and even in it, he was known for his anger issues and his intolerance for any failures that weren’t his own. He was universally disliked by all of lower rank, and even those of higher rank were found to not be very fond of the man. Cathcart had frequented a bar on the west side of London, and so without any leads Mortimer headed there. As he approached the bar, The Iron Horse  he noticed that it was a place frequented by very few. As he walked inside he saw that the place was a relatively fancy establishment with a man in a boiled shirt serving brandy, scotch, and sipping whiskey. There were only a few people there a half a dozen at the bar and one table in a far corner. It was a place that men of means went to get drunk and forget how they achieved their status. As he approached the bar, the bartender gave him a look that told him he wasn’t the type of patron that usually frequented the bar. With his unshaven face, greasy hair, and patched trench coat, he stood out among the other patrons, many of whom were in military uniforms.

“I’m an officer investigating the murder of Colonel Cathcart,” he told the bartender as he sat down at the bar. Putting his dirty hands on the well polished glass surface of the bar, he continued, “Anything interesting you’d like to add?”

“No sir,” said the barkeep though the tone of voice said that he used the term sir lightly. He continued, “The man hadn’t been here for the past two months.” He raised a hand to stop Mortimer’s question, and answered it. “And no, I don’t know why. He just stopped coming. If you really wanted to know I’d talk to that man over there. He was Cathcart’s adjacent.” The bartender pointed to quite a large man sitting over at the far most table talking and laughing with a couple of friends. One was a tall man with copper colored hair; the other was a relatively short man in a fancy suit. Their thick accents left no doubt of their countries of origin, well that and their drink of choice. Mortimer had never known many Englishmen or Scotts who favored Guinness, and vodka was also easy to place and just as unpopular as the national Irish drink. As he approached the table the tall read headed man pushed himself away from the table and stood up. In a thick Irish accent he said, “Hands where I can see them.” In the same motion he drew a military issue .45 from inside his jacket and aimed it at Mortimer. Mortimer stopped as if he had hit a brick wall. Instinctively he reached for his own weapon a .44 magnum, however his brain overrode his instincts this time and he slowly withdrew his hand from inside his coat where his .44 rested.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said as he slowly edged toward the nearest exit, which at the moment was too far away for his liking. The Irishman’s gun tracked him the whole time. The man had had training that was plain to see. Mortimer looked into the deep dark blackness of the gun’s barrel and began to sweat.

“Put the gun away Ross,” said the man in the trench coat. Unlike his companions, the man had a quiet voice also unlike his compatriots his accent was Russian. When the man didn’t move fast enough to suit him he repeated himself very deliberately. “I said put it away Ross.” Slowly, reluctantly, and with hatred in his eyes Ross lowered the gun and set it on the table.

“I am sorry for the unpleasantness,” said the Russian, “Ross takes my personal safety very seriously. My name is Nicholas Gavrikov. I’m a businessman.” As Mortimer opened his mouth to question Nicholas, the Russian interrupted. “And my business here is my business. No one elses.” Although his voice was friendly, Mortimer sensed iron in the man and decided not to press him. There were some men who had that kind of look. It didn’t convey any particular emotion,  only that he was perfectly willing to resort to violence if he was challenged. Mortimer paused to sit down at the table before responding. “I’m not here to question your business legitimate or otherwise.” That got a growl from Ross and a slight smile and raised eyebrows from the Russian. While he had decided not to press the Russian on his business affairs, Mortimer needed information and decided to get straight to the point. “Do any of you know anything about the murder of Cathcart? I know the bullet that killed the colonel was Russian made Nicholas, and I want to know if you had anything to do with it.” After saying this he wondered how much of a mistake pressing the Russian hard for information. He had very few cards at the moment, and although he didn’t know what the Russian had, it was probably more than him.

“No on both counts,” responded Nicholas curtly he than coughed as if it was a signal before continuing, “This conversation is over.” The Russian stood up and gestured toward Mortimer before saying, “Ross, Avery remove the detective from the premises would you.”

Mortimer than realized that someone was behind him. He looked around just as a bar stool came swinging for his head. On a normal day his reflexes were more than satisfactory to deal with such a threat. However hung over, angry, and low on sleep Mortimer was unable to dodge the stool; it made a solid ‘thud’ against his head. He fell to the ground in astonishing pain. The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness took him was Nicholas standing over him and smiling while he said. “Your investigation is over detective.”

Bloggin Assignment

The first excerpt , from Neil Gaiman's Stardust, makes use of a literal scholarly tone, with the words flowing together harmoniously. The purpose of the excerpt is to describe, literally what the town is, "below Wall on the west is the forest to the south is a treacherously placid lake," while he does this he uses a high, scholarly, and elevated words. In comparison, Annie Phoulx's The Mud Below, the author makes use of a much lower style, a coloquial and vulgar kind of speech, with a picturesque and figurative language. Atlas Shrugged on the other hand, has a high intricate and ornate elevation, but has a figurative and almost picturesque meaning. In this excerpt, the language and style become apparent, "The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish tthe bum's face. The bum had said it simply withougt expression but from the sunset far at the end of the street, yellow glints caught his eyes," its use of somewhat symbolic and an almost flowery tone give it a feel of figurative high literature.

Quarterly

Well so far I've actually surprised myself. I've expanded the types of books I tend to read. While yes there still are the fantasy novels and science fiction books that I've read for a long time, I've now expanded into history books and books on social commentary. I will say that the book that challenged me the most this quarter was Dune. For nearly the first six chapters, I didn't see the book going anywhere. There was no action, no exciting bits. It was all characterization, of characters that really, I wasn't all that interested in to begin with. The book that I found the easiest to read this quarter was surprisingly European History from a World Perspective. While I had to divide the book into sections and read it in chapters stopping for days or weeks at a time, when I was reading it, I found its inferences and ideas intriguing and its commentary on certain events to be quite a departure from what I'd read in other places. I found that I spent a majority of my reading time either lying in bed or outside on the porch overlooking the pond in my backyard. In the next quarter I hope to see myself expanding my reading variety even more.

My Try at Historical Fiction

Prologue

            It was nearly midnight when Cathcart finally finished his report. The rooms were cold as the colonel left his office, he shivered as he slipped on his old duster. No one appreciates me, he thought as he walked through the hallways to the stairwell. I’m more qualified to command than any generals on staff. Like usual, his complaint was his lack of promotion. He’d been a colonel for the past three years, and was itching for advancement. Cathcart was ambitious; no one could deny that, however his ambition had had a way of getting him into problems with superiors. As the son of a commoner, he often conflicted with the rest of the officer class many of whom were noble born. One notable example was during his first active command in South Africa during the rebellion.

 On one of his first missions, during the Boer War in South Africa, he had been court marshaled for blatantly disagreeing with his commanding officer on the fact that the Boers would engage in a conventional battle with their British counterparts. After being proved right in the following campaigns he was given a commendation and his court marshalling was removed. However his disagreement’s to put it lightly with the army’s higher ups continued to get him into trouble regardless of his raw talent. His arrogance and contempt pointed mostly at officers above his rank unsurprisingly were not very popular with his superiors. Instead of only a fraction of the officer class being his enemy, nearly all were. The officers grew tired of Cathcart’s blatant disregard for their authority and he was sent back to Glasgow, operational Siberia for a British officer. That had been three years ago. I’ll get the last laugh you bastards, he thought, just see if I don’t. As he went down the stairwell, he passed the office of Glasgow’s naval commander, however unexpectedly, he saw light coming from the room and voices coming from the room. Cathcart crept closer to listen in.w

            “You told me they would be here Realer, now where are they?” The voice was a man’s voice sure enough. He talked as if to a small child slow and deliberate, however behind the voice there was a sense of anger.

            “I told you the admiral might have them, I never told you he had them for sure.” Now this voice this voice Cathcart thought was also slow, but instead of deliberate the second man’s voice was reasoning, as though to try to calm the other one down. “If he doesn’t have them than our colleague’s documents are probably in Edinburgh.”

            Our colleague’s documents? Thought Cathcart, Very secretive, Cathcart thought again, If I can get this to the Commander I might finally get the promotion I deserve. Happier than a conspiracy inside the military should have made a member of said military Cathcart began to sneak away.. As he crept toward the exit he accidentally tripped over the coat rack that sat in the entryway.

            “What was that?” said the angry man. Just a few more feet, thought Cathcart as he dragged himself to his feet. His heart began to race as fear and adrenaline began to affect him.

            “I don’t know,” said his companion, he than continued, “Come on let’s go find out. The boss wouldn’t be very happy if we let something slip not at this stage,” Cathcart than decided to throw stealth and guile out the window as he began to run full tilt toward the exit. As if he was back in Africa fighting the rebellion. That was probably his mistake, if he had continued to walk silently the vast complex of the building would have hidden him, as was it was easy for his pursuers to hear him running.

            “Stop!” yelled the two men. When Cathcart kept running, the angry man pulled out a pistol from inside his jacket. Cathcart saw it and began to reach for his .45. Before he could level the weapon his assailant pulled the trigger three times. Three thunderclaps later Cathcart fell limp like a rag doll.

            “N-n-no not like this!” he moaned almost as much because of his fury as because of the pain of the almost surely fatal gunshots. From the amount of blood on the floor he knew he was dying, it was just a matter of time. Than Cathcart’s vision started to go black. “That’s not right,” he muttered delirious, “There’s supposed..to..be..a.light”

  After that Cathcart never got the promotion he had wanted. He never got anything ever again.

Animal Farm

Well the book I chose to read this week was Animal Farm. I have to say that for such a short book, it was a really interesting and thought provoking read. Portraying the Russian Revolution and subsequent events as a revolt of farm animals against their human overlords was a very radical and just plain weird idea. I have to say though that for all its weirdness, it succeeds in showing the weakness and the corruption that can happen to anyone or in this book anything. The conversion of the pigs from animals to their almost human-like caricatures is one of the books major points, as the animals become just like the humans who they overthrew. The passivity with which the other animals accept this change is also startling. No matter what Napoleon, the leader of the pigs does, the other animals accept it since it seems better than it was under human rule, even when the two situations become nearly the same. Their great Utopia where all animals are equal and humans are not allowed, becomes indistinguishable from before, the only change is who rules. Animal Farm, a short read, numbering only 112 pages, is a book that everyone should read.

Currently

Sentences of the Week

"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."
Foundation

I picked this sentence because I thought that it summed up the whole idea of the novel, that the farther and farther away that the foundation gets from the morals of its founders the more prone to violence they become.

"Four legs good two legs bad."
Animal Farm

I chose this quote because I thought that it represented the very idea of the book. The rulers in the end become just like those they overthrew.

Foundation Update

Now with the entire first book of Foundation finished, and the second one started, I think I now see the deep meaning that I just couldn't find in the middle of the first book. I've decided that instead of just being a science fiction knock off of Gibbon's Fall of the Roman Empire. Instead of just being a boring and monotonous history lesson, I think that it is instead a story about human nature and the idea that humanity has a tendency to follow several types of often self destructive paths. In the book a group of historians use some sort of psychoanalytic technique to predict that the current Galactic Empire would collapse soon and that it would lead to a period of 30,000 years of barbarism and warfare. In order to prevent this, they build a foundation, a place where human knowledge and culture are kept safe. However things begin to go badly once the foundation is set up. Their idealistic goals are floundered and their small society that began as a hope to stave off barbarism and despotism begins to show just the same signs of corruption and degredation that the original scientists and historians had seen in the empire, the same ones that had prompted them to make the foundation in the first place. I think that what the book is trying to say is that no one is above corruption and that human nature is indeed human nature.

Foundation: What's with all the fuss?

This week I've decided to focus on finishing Issac Asimov's Foundation.Now that I'm about done with the book,  it's left me more confused than ever about the books meaning. While yes, I know that not every book has meaning, and that some people who will read this will say the same thing, "why does it have to have a meaning? Can't it just be just because?", and yes I agree when you talk about popular fiction made for the masses. What I've always heard about Asimov though, was that his books had meaning and that there was a deeper meaning to  his novels, and even years after they're supposed to be profound and meaningful. What I don't understand is, "what is all the fuss about?" In my opinion, the first novel was no more than classy science fiction. I see very little deep meaning in Foundation, it seems to be a replaying of the process by which many claim that all civilizations rise and fall, in this place, the galactic empire takes the place of whatever historical civilization you choose. Is it a lesson to his adopted country America, or one on his native Russia? It's not as if I don't see the parallels the book states. Corruption, over-expansion, and moral degradation, however I fail to see how this guarantees the books position as a highlight of American literature. Maybe its because I haven't read the entire series. Once I finish Second Foundation I'll get back to you all with my impressions of the series as a whole.