Of China and Spain

Today was actually colder than yesterday, but it felt warmer because we didn’t have that Ginzu wind that seemed to have something personal against us all on Tuesday.

News is that they’re having an unusually severe winter in China, and that all kinds of people are stranded in railroad stations, since this is a heavy travel period in that country (their New Year is next week). Normally, heartless Occidental that I am, I’m only vaguely concerned about what happens over there, be it never so cataclysmic. But as it happens my Youngest Niece is spending two years teaching in China right now, and she’s taking this holiday time for traveling too. I hope the worst that happens is that she’ll have some interesting traveler’s stories to bring back.

I’m reading Stephen Hunter’s Tapestry of Spies (originally published as The Spanish Gambit) right now. What strikes me most about it is the tremendous difference the lack of a strong hero makes. Tapestry of Spies is a fascinating fictional account of a proxy battle between Russian and English spymasters during the Spanish Civil War. There are sympathetic characters (in fact, most of the characters are sympathetic to some degree, which is a very good thing in a novel), but there’s no character you embrace with all your heart, like Bob Lee Swagger and his father Earl in Hunter’s Swagger series. (There is a “Bob the Nailer” in this book, but he’s a sniper on the Fascist side who never actually appears—at least as far as I’ve read to date.)

Here’s a tip for any writer who wants to write a bestselling series. Give us a big, strong, courageous, admirable hero to adore. I’m not saying he has to be perfect. Bob Lee Swagger, for instance, is a recovering alcoholic, and his social skills are lousy. But I still want to be him, and that keeps me coming back to the books.

The polysyllabic revolution

Whoo-boy. That was like a one-two combination from George Foreman. No, that’s wrong. It was like someone giving you a big warm kiss, then knifing you in the back. With a knife they kept in the deep freeze. I’m talking about the weather, of course. After yesterday’s (relatively) tropical temperatures, we woke this morning to plunging mercury and a carborundum-honed wind. The wind chill temperature tonight is predicted to be about 30 below. And tomorrow will be colder than today.

I tell you this because I know you care. Because I want you marvel at my sheer, primal will to survive. Because I want someone to persuade me to move south!

No, not really. I tried living in Florida. I missed the titanic struggle, the clash of man against nature. Also I missed spring.

Today’s subject: long words. If you read an older book in English, and then read a contemporary book, one of the differences you’ll note is that the older book will have used a lot more big words. Since the time of Hemingway, big words have gone out of fashion in the Anglosphere. There are good reasons for this change, since most every writer has discovered that cutting out the big words and going for simple ones adds considerable punch to prose. Whenever I give advice on writing, one of the first things I suggest is replacing long words (which usually come from Latin by way of French) with short words (which tend to be Anglo-Saxon ones). Write “door” instead of “portal.” Write “cat” instead of “feline.”

This is odd in a way, because Anglo-Saxon was a Germanic language, and German is notorious for its long words. In a bizarre twist, it was the infusion of French/Latin that permitted us to avoid the famous German monstrosities that read like “gerfundenlieberanbrachtsblechtzheitzgrund.” (That’s not a real word, just in case you were wondering.)

I talked about this with a friend in the Viking Age Society a while back. He used to work as a machinist, and at one point his company had to install a piece of equipment made in Germany. The installation manual was in German. My friend isn’t fluent in the language, but he knew a little, so got stuck with the job of figuring out how to put the thing together. He found one item missing, and had to order it. It was a special kind of cotter pin. He told me what the thing was called in German, and it was a ridiculously long name for a very small piece of steel. “But,” he said, “that name was incredibly precise. It described exactly what the pin was for. In English, we just say, ‘cotter pin,’ and that doesn’t really tell us anything.”

It was his opinion that this extreme precision of vocabulary is one of the reasons Germans do so well in the world of engineering. Our English language, compared to German, is sloppy and inefficient.

On top of that, our really technical words are generally borrowings from Latin or Greek. This worked well when it was assumed that all educated English-speakers knew Latin and Greek, but that’s no longer the case. When a German looks at one of his millipede words, he can break it down into its constituents and figure out what it means. When we English-speakers look at our long words, we generally go away as ignorant as when we started.

What’s to be done? Shall we surrender our English-speaking primacy in the world to the greater efficiency of Germans and others?

No, I say. I say we must institute a program of English compounding. From now on, instead of saying, “philanthropic,” we should start saying “humankindlovingandgenerous.” Instead of “polygamous,” we should say, “marryinglotsofpeople.” Instead of “progressive,” we could say, “happytospendotherpeople’smoney.”

I share these ideas at no cost, because I care about making a better world for all of us. Because I’m humankindlovingandgenerous.

Hope, the Warrior

Again Bill meditates on strong truth: “In the Bible hope is strong, it is virile, it is tough. Hope is a warrior. Hope sees the victory, before the battle has even begun. Hope bursts forth, the fruit of suffering that has produced endurance and a character strong enough to hope. . . . Hope charges the bunkers of despair, hope outflanks its lines, hope takes the enemy camp. Hope is the flag raised on the Mount Suribachi of our fears, and hope doesn’t give heed to the bullets.”

Do not be afraid, but rejoice in the hope the Lord has for us. “Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight.”

Aliens, Wormholes, and the Really Big Questions

“If you want to read books that tackle profound philosophical questions, then the best — and perhaps only — place to turn these days is sci-fi. Science fiction is the last great literature of ideas,” writes Clive Thompson in Wired. (via Books, Inq.)

I’m not sure Thompson is right, because crime fiction or mystery explores some deep ideas about humanity, community, God, and life. I think science fiction may be the best label for this kind of praise because it can include almost any story with unreal elements, even overriding other genres or labels. When Thompson starts throwing out examples to support his argument, he picks three fantasy series first.

Waiting to Yawn

Perhaps Dan Brown is taking so much time to write his follow-up to The Da Vinci Code because he is taking all of the criticism he received to heart, planning to make this next book critical as well as popular success. Doubt it, but why be pessimistic? For far superior books on secrets and religion, take up the ones Will Duquette read yesterday.

Warming up Mom

The Minnesota blog Freedom Dogs posted this YouTube video yesterday, and I forwarded the URL to several people, because I thought it was hilarious. Maybe you’ve got to live up here to appreciate it, but this is gritty, slice-of-life filmmaking.

By the way, Minnesotans for Global Warming is a real group. They’re planning a rally at the state capitol this weekend.

I’d be tempted to go, except it’s so cold this time of year.

Today was quite nice, actually. The mercury rocketed up to about 40° F. (that’s about 5° Euro). Driving home, I saw people sitting at outside tables at a coffee shop (they were wearing parkas, but they were nevertheless drinking their coffee outside).

But it’s all a cheat. All tease. Tomorrow the high temperature will be 25 or 30 degrees lower than today. And the high Wednesday will be about zero. Then it’ll ease up a little, but there’s plenty of freeze left in the freezer.

That’s why I think nature worship will never catch on in Minnesota. If you live in California, you might be able to join some animist cult and delude yourself into thinking Mother Nature is a soft and indulgent sort, a nurturer. Up here we know her better. We figured out long ago that if she doesn’t take her medication regularly she’s likely to wander out of the house in her nightgown, and sometimes at night you hear her playing with the cutlery in the kitchen, and you wonder…

Light Without End

Bill has had a moment–you know, one of those epiphany things. “I read a glowing tribute to the movie It’s a Wonderful Life a while ago (and that’s one of my favorite movies), and, apropos of almost nothing, the author of the tribute said that he believed people would be watching that movie long after Christianity is forgotten. . . . ” As if.

Refreshment in The Cruciform Life

My cousin has taken up church planting in northeast Tennessee, and I remember that I have not prayed for him and his team as I originally wanted to. Perhaps, you can pray with me. He is blogging at The Cruciform Life now (updated link). In one post, he writes about finding spiritual refreshment during, not after, a trial and draws beautiful pictures of water coming from the rock. I needed to read that today. I’m also looking forward to his posts on dashboard lights. Can’t say too much about those little lights.