Feb 1, 2011

Complexity

The world is complex.

This simple admission is too much for most to stomach.

“No!” they protest, “when you think about it, when you break it down to manageable pieces, within the context, it is not that complicated at all! Why...” and then they proceed to stop thinking, start believing, and disseminate said belief, in manageable pieces and within the context, of course. Except soon that context will be stripped off and said belief will become an unassailable truth, an axiom of civilization!

Consider a student, young and of nimble mind, toiling away at his lessons. He has been told by all quite often that his lessons will determine his life's direction, its quality, and content. He works away, devouring knowledge that everyone agrees is relevant and germane… and yet that knowledge is not the only determinant of his future, nor is it even the most important determinant. What is? How the fuck would I know? The world is complex!

Causality is a fact, undeniable, enshrined in the very nature of the universe we inhabit. That is not to say however, that it can be gleaned by any human. These waters are muddy, and those on the quest to uncover the bottom only succeed in kicking up more silt.

And yet there are those that take whatever glimmer they caught of some causal relationship and they peddle it as the truth. Within context, initially, until one day it becomes the whole truth,the truth of their existence, and of all existence,the prime mover, the cause at the beginning of all causes! Until one day it becomes a cause of its own, and then they come down the mountain and crush all dissent…

Their certainty, you see – their faith in the veracity of that glimmer – is the most dangerous thing in the world; not only when they are wrong, but also – and especially – when they are partly right. For then this certainty, bolstered with a smattering of evidence, and a throng of believers, makes them… zealots.

Jul 21, 2010

The Great Malazan Re-Read

As many of the readers of this blog will know "The Malazan Book of the Fallen" is a ten part series, written by Steven Erikson (SE) that I first started reading in May 2005. It is (in my rather informed opinion, if you allow the hubris) one of, if not the best high fantasy - or for that matter SciFi and Fantasy (SF&F) - set of books/ series out there now.

When I first read it, my fantasy obsession was in full bloom, although it was not yet the lifestyle it is now. I proudly claimed to have "evolved" in my reading, starting from Tolkein/ Clarke/ Asimov to Robert Jordan to Stephen King to... and so on until I read Stephen Donaldson. (Aside: a retrospective from back then on the old blog: My Fantasy Bibiliospective).

I thought I had read everything there was to read.

As stupid statements go, that one was... really stupid, because with my discovery of"Gardens of the Moon", the opening volume of the series (from a hearty recommendation by Donaldson on his site), I was about to be blown away. Never before or since have I found anything that comes close in the genre for sheer scope of imagination, expert story-telling, or literary significance (yes, that old chestnut!).

Jun 16, 2010

On Being A Generalist (BA)

A colleague and friend of mine (Anupam) posted an opinion on the virtues of being a generalist Business Analyst (BA) vs being a specialist BA. He seems to be leaning toward saying specialists have an easier life and that being a specialist overall is better.

As a generalist (and coincidentally a BA) myself, I feel compelled to offer a counterpoint! :) Enough to bring me out of my blogging semi-retirement. (Well, more like laziness induced inertia)

First, check out his post here: http://www.upmaan.com/2010/06/15/are-you-a-generalist-business-analyst/ For those too lazy/ unable to do so, rather than quoting him wholesale here, I'll attempt to summarize each of his points and rebut:

May 2, 2010

From The Darkness, Light

A vast darkness, not empty at all, but full of... things.

Colossal clouds of matter, luminous and dark, constantly in flux, morphing anew into shapes and essences and structures wondrous and complex and astonishingly ephemeral. A superstructure one cannot begin to grasp or visualize, let alone comprehend. A wild dance of chaos and order hurtling, hurtling, and in spite of all the matter and all that energy in eternal conflict, all is eerily silent.

I am falling.

Riotous colors assault me. Blue and yellow, red and green, orange and purple; and yet the inky blackness pervades all; my very soul. Yet I hear nothing, can utter no sound, no screams, no howl of wind; so I imagine one for myself. I am cold; so very cold - yet I am on fire. A remote speck of light in what was a blinding, remote array but a moment ago suddenly surrounds me, as though it were a universe by all by itself, it snatches me from the inky shroud and fills my world with blinding light.

They are dancing.

Globes of fearsome majesty move along in tune to an unheard melody. Strands of light stretch between them, faintly glowing as if they were the trails of their motion from ages past. And yet they last for only an instant in time... their own tiny era... before they dissolve. Dissolution is everywhere now... this cloud is dying. Slowly, and gracefully, but surely. I stifle the inevitable sob, the aching despair, even as I dance myself, to that melody... and the cloud is past me.

And then I see it.

Another cloud, as though a disc, spinning, its tentacles reaching out and whipping back, a whirlpool of light and matter. It is my objective - it ever was. Not its center, no, that place is for the behemoths that will not be denied. A remote corner instead, away from their pull, away from... everything.

Then I hear them. Others. For the first time, others!

The inky black makes way for another yellow globe, and the littler globes around it. I am upon one of the smaller globes now, where I hear them... I really hear them. Screaming, laughing, speaking, crying, moving, shaping, struggling, mating, living, dying. There are billions, here, suddenly, there are billions! I call to them myself, in exhilaration I finally let voice to that vast emptiness I have been lugging around... and they ignore me! ME!

But I will not be denied. I have traveled too far, too long. An explosion then, of heat, and light; a roar to quell their voices for one moment, so they see I am come. I darken the sky they look at with wonder, scarcely knowing what lies beyond; and for that reason their wonder is inadequate. I hasten to show them.

Look! This is your universe, as it is mine. I have seen it, and you have not. See it for yourself - look! You need no names, no comprehension, no words, just to look. To be drawn in and be buffeted by this majesty. To look beneath and beyond the obvious, to the essence of things and thought.

They fall to their feet. Not in wonder, but - to my anguish - in fear. They chant and burn things. They kill and offer. They cajole and rail, and worst of all, they close their eyes and bow their heads. They seem to think I care. They seem to think I know. They seem to... live and die... for me?

For the first time, then, incredulous, I laugh, and they cower some more. So it is, to the moment I depart...

Once again, falling... seeking...

Dec 21, 2009

Admit to Complexity

Complexity. Nuance. More grays, less black and white. Please! The popular media, the public conscious, zeitgeist - whatever you call it is so obsessed with reducing things to anecdotes and representative summaries/ cliches that aren't that representative at all.

I know, I know... what's the point in blogging for the first time in six months and wailing on a point that is essentially a corollary of the previous post?

Well... I watched Avatar, that's why. Yes, patient reader, I shall explain. In a longish rant (I feel your chagrin).

To dismiss it as eye candy (or a play on "Dances with Wolves") would only prove the point I'm trying to make and add me to the count of the unwashed masses I decry. It is a phenomenon of computer imagery and sound design and whatnot. But at its core, it is yet another big-ass rip off of Joseph Campbell's mono-myth, with a dash of Gaia-ism, anti-Bush/ war/ Blackwater rhetoric and a big dose of "John Carter of Mars" and "Midnight Tides".

To the uninitiated, John Carter of Mars is a series of books by Edgar Rice Burroughs (he of Tarzan fame) about an American on deathbed who finds himself transported to Mars in the blink of an eye, discovers he has superpowers while there, joins a clan of Martian warriors (Martians come in green or red or yellow skin if memory serves, and call their planet Barsoom), marries a princess, defends against fanatics, tames a six-legged steed (no dragon here) and so on... until one day he is the "warlord of Mars"; sound familiar? Well, these books got written somewhere in the last century.

Midnight Tides is the fifth book in the Malazan Book of the Fallen saga by Steven Erikson. It tells the story of how a capitalist empire (Lether) which has already subsumed many indigenous civilizations by trade-craft and war finally meets it match at the hands of a very war-like if fallen (grey skinned) civilization known as the Tiste Edur. One of the primary characters of the book is a Letherii man responsible for studying/ helping destroy several civilizations in the past who this time around intends to betray Lether and make it eat crow...

Fanboy tangents apart, here's the thing: both Burroughs' Barsoom and Erikson's writing feature a beautiful world with imaginative flora and fauna, and the authors (more so for the latter) in broad strokes paint a narrative that is far more complex and real than Avatar. In other words, they do everything on a page that Avatar does on screen, and then they do a lot more.

Someone said to me, this movie is more of an experience than a story; and I agree completely... it is a superlative experience (as I tweeted the morning after I saw it). But did it also have to be so f**king dumb and derivative?

In the translation from page to screen these days (and hardly anyone would argue that the zeitgeist is now ruled by the screen more than the page) we lose all manner of nuance that would otherwise make things much more worthwhile. For that matter, if you read the scriptment that Cameron had written for Avatar years ago, in its 70 odd pages it had a lot more meat on the bone than what's in the final movie. Where did it go?

Cameron hardly had Hollywood suits breathing down his back asking him to make the movie merchandise or lowest common denominator friendly (one assumes)! He calls himself an auteur (and he is, technically) but seriously - this is an Eragon-esque story that a teenager could belt out in a year or so of effort. This took him a decade and a half?

Movies - science fiction movies - like the Matrix and Blade Runner and The Fountain (and many more) have come out over the last three decades that frankly don't allow people like Cameron the excuse of having to make their work "accessible". Can anyone honestly say Cameron shouldn't have spent another - oh, 5 million - and come up with a better story?

Now all this said, the truth is Avatar and movies like it will remain the gateways, nay the gatekeepers for a vast majority of people to the world of Science Fiction and Fantasy literature and imagination. That is not a bad thing. If I'd been twelve years old and had never seen a science fiction flick in my life, Avatar would be enough of an excuse to become a fanboy, buy every toy that comes out, devour all spin-off comics and books, and dive deep into SF&F. Hopefully I would still end up discovering the joys of Erikson and Dan Simmons (whose Hyperion Cantos featured the concept of uploading your consciousness to a cosmic network by the way) and others that are devastatingly good.

But guess what? I'm not twelve any more, and I prefer my Oz to be closer to Kansas!