Search Results: "cerb"

20 December 2023

Ulrike Uhlig: How volunteer work in F/LOSS exacerbates pre-existing lines of oppression, and what that has to do with low diversity

This is a post I wrote in June 2022, but did not publish back then. After first publishing it in December 2023, a perfectionist insecure part of me unpublished it again. After receiving positive feedback, i slightly amended and republish it now. In this post, I talk about unpaid work in F/LOSS, taking on the example of hackathons, and why, in my opinion, the expectation of volunteer work is hurting diversity. Disclaimer: I don t have all the answers, only some ideas and questions.

Previous findings In 2006, the Flosspols survey searched to explain the role of gender in free/libre/open source software (F/LOSS) communities because an earlier [study] revealed a significant discrepancy in the proportion of men to women. It showed that just about 1.5% of F/LOSS community members were female at that time, compared with 28% in proprietary software (which is also a low number). Their key findings were, to name just a few:
  • that F/LOSS rewards the producing code rather than the producing software. It thereby puts most emphasis on a particular skill set. Other activities such as interface design or documentation are understood as less technical and therefore less prestigious.
  • The reliance on long hours of intensive computing in writing successful code means that men, who in general assume that time outside of waged labour is theirs , are freer to participate than women, who normally still assume a disproportionate amount of domestic responsibilities. Female F/LOSS participants, however, seem to be able to allocate a disproportionate larger share of their leisure time for their F/LOSS activities. This gives an indication that women who are not able to spend as much time on voluntary activities have difficulties to integrate into the community.
We also know from the 2016 Debian survey, published in 2021, that a majority of Debian contributors are employed, rather than being contractors, and rather than being students. Also, 95.5% of respondents to that study were men between the ages of 30 and 49, highly educated, with the largest groups coming from Germany, France, USA, and the UK. The study found that only 20% of the respondents were being paid to work on Debian. Half of these 20% estimate that the amount of work on Debian they are being paid for corresponds to less than 20% of the work they do there. On the other side, there are 14% of those who are being paid for Debian work who declared that 80-100% of the work they do in Debian is remunerated.

So, if a majority of people is not paid, why do they work on F/LOSS? Or: What are the incentives of free software? In 2021, Louis-Philippe V ronneau aka Pollo, who is not only a Debian Developer but also an economist, published his thesis What are the incentive structures of free software (The actual thesis was written in French). One very interesting finding Pollo pointed out is this one:
Indeed, while we have proven that there is a strong and significative correlation between the income and the participation in a free/libre software project, it is not possible for us to pronounce ourselves about the causality of this link.
In the French original text:
En effet, si nous avons prouv qu il existe une corr lation forte et significative entre le salaire et la participation un projet libre, il ne nous est pas possible de nous prononcer sur la causalit de ce lien.
Said differently, it is certain that there is a relationship between income and F/LOSS contribution, but it s unclear whether working on free/libre software ultimately helps finding a well paid job, or if having a well paid job is the cause enabling work on free/libre software. I would like to scratch this question a bit further, mostly relying on my own observations, experiences, and discussions with F/LOSS contributors.

Volunteer work is unpaid work We often hear of hackathons, hack weeks, or hackfests. I ve been at some such events myself, Tails organized one, the IETF regularly organizes hackathons, and last week (June 2022!) I saw an invitation for a hack week with the Torproject. This type of event generally last several days. While the people who organize these events are being paid by the organizations they work for, participants on the other hand are generally joining on a volunteer basis. Who can we expect to show up at this type of event under these circumstances as participants? To answer this question, I collected some ideas:
  • people who have an employer sponsoring their work
  • people who have a funder/grant sponsoring their work
  • people who have a high income and can take time off easily (in that regard, remember the Gender Pay Gap, women often earn less for the same work than men)
  • people who rely on family wealth (living off an inheritance, living on rights payments from a famous grandparent - I m not making these situations up, there are actual people in such financially favorable situations )
  • people who don t need much money because they don t have to pay rent or pay low rent (besides house owners that category includes people who live in squats or have social welfare paying for their rent, people who live with parents or caretakers)
  • people who don t need to do care work (for children, elderly family members, pets. Remember that most care work is still done by women.)
  • students who have financial support or are in a situation in which they do not yet need to generate a lot of income
  • people who otherwise have free time at their disposal
So, who, in your opinion, fits these unwritten requirements? Looking at this list, it s pretty clear to me why we d mostly find white men from the Global North, generally with higher education in hackathons and F/LOSS development. ( Great, they re a culture fit! ) Yes, there will also always be some people of marginalized groups who will attend such events because they expect to network, to find an internship, to find a better job in the future, or to add their participation to their curriculum. To me, this rings a bunch of alarm bells.

Low diversity in F/LOSS projects a mirror of the distribution of wealth I believe that the lack of diversity in F/LOSS is first of all a mirror of the distribution of wealth on a larger level. And by wealth I m referring to financial wealth as much as to social wealth in the sense of Bourdieu: Families of highly educated parents socially reproducing privilege by allowing their kids to attend better schools, supporting and guiding them in their choices of study and work, providing them with relations to internships acting as springboards into well paid jobs and so on. That said, we should ask ourselves as well:

Do F/LOSS projects exacerbate existing lines of oppression by relying on unpaid work? Let s look again at the causality question of Pollo s research (in my words):
It is unclear whether working on free/libre software ultimately helps finding a well paid job, or if having a well paid job is the cause enabling work on free/libre software.
Maybe we need to imagine this cause-effect relationship over time: as a student, without children and lots of free time, hopefully some money from the state or the family, people can spend time on F/LOSS, collect experience, earn recognition - and later find a well-paid job and make unpaid F/LOSS contributions into a hobby, cementing their status in the community, while at the same time generating a sense of well-being from working on the common good. This is a quite common scenario. As the Flosspols study revealed however, boys often get their own computer at the age of 14, while girls get one only at the age of 20. (These numbers might be slightly different now, and possibly many people don t own an actual laptop or desktop computer anymore, instead they own mobile devices which are not exactly inciting them to look behind the surface, take apart, learn, appropriate technology.) In any case, the above scenario does not allow for people who join F/LOSS later in life, eg. changing careers, to find their place. I believe that F/LOSS projects cannot expect to have more women, people of color, people from working class backgrounds, people from outside of Germany, France, USA, UK, Australia, and Canada on board as long as volunteer work is the status quo and waged labour an earned privilege.

Wait, are you criticizing all these wonderful people who sacrifice their free time to work towards common good? No, that s definitely not my intention, I m glad that F/LOSS exists, and the F/LOSS ecosystem has always represented a small utopia to me that is worth cherishing and nurturing. However, I think we still need to talk more about the lack of diversity, and investigate it further.

Some types of work are never being paid Besides free work at hacking events, let me also underline that a lot of work in F/LOSS is not considered payable work (yes, that s an oxymoron!). Which F/LOSS project for example, has ever paid translators a decent fee? Which project has ever considered that doing the social glue work, often done by women in the projects, is work that should be paid for? Which F/LOSS projects pay the people who do their Debian packaging rather than relying on yet another already well-paid white man who can afford doing this work for free all the while holding up how great the F/LOSS ecosystem is? And how many people on opensourcedesign jobs are looking to get their logo or website done for free? (Isn t that heart icon appealing to your altruistic empathy?) In my experience even F/LOSS projects which are trying to do the right thing by paying everyone the same amount of money per hour run into issues when it turns out that not all hours are equal and that some types of work do not qualify for remuneration at all or that the rules for the clocking of work are not universally applied in the same way by everyone.

Not every interaction should have a monetary value, but Some of you want to keep working without being paid, because that feels a bit like communism within capitalism, it makes you feel good to contribute to the greater good while not having the system determine your value over money. I hear you. I ve been there (and sometimes still am). But as long as we live in this system, even though we didn t choose to and maybe even despise it - communism is not about working for free, it s about getting paid equally and adequately. We may not think about it while under the age of 40 or 45, but working without adequate financial compensation, even half of the time, will ultimately result in not being able to care for oneself when sick, when old. And while this may not be an issue for people who inherit wealth, or have an otherwise safe economical background, eg. an academic salary, it is a huge problem and barrier for many people coming out of the working or service classes. (Oh and please, don t repeat the neoliberal lie that everyone can achieve whatever they aim for, if they just tried hard enough. French research shows that (in France) one has only 30% chance to become a class defector , and change social class upwards. But I managed to get out and move up, so everyone can! - well, if you believe that I m afraid you might be experiencing survivor bias.)

Not all bodies are equally able We should also be aware that not all of us can work with the same amount of energy either. There is yet another category of people who are excluded by the expectation of volunteer work, either because the waged labour they do already eats all of their energy, or because their bodies are not disposed to do that much work, for example because of mental health issues - such as depression-, or because of physical disabilities.

When organizing events relying on volunteer work please think about these things. Yes, you can tell people that they should ask their employer to pay them for attending a hackathon - but, as I ve hopefully shown, that would not do it for many people, especially newcomers. Instead, you could propose a fund to make it possible that people who would not normally attend can attend. DebConf is a good example for having done this for many years.

Conclusively I would like to urge free software projects that have a budget and directly pay some people from it to map where they rely on volunteer work and how this hurts diversity in their project. How do you or your project exacerbate pre-existing lines of oppression by granting or not granting monetary value to certain types of work? What is it that you take for granted? As always, I m curious about your feedback!

Worth a read These ideas are far from being new. Ashe Dryden s well-researched post The ethics of unpaid labor and the OSS community dates back to 2013 and is as important as it was ten years ago.

30 November 2023

Russell Coker: Links November 2023

The Long Now has an insightful article about air quality [1]. Every country needs food labelling laws like Mexico has [2]. Also we need to abolish the investor state tribunals, companies should just accept local laws and obey them or be treated in the same way as pirates on the high seas. Ian Jackson wrote a good post about conference policies regarding Covid19 [3]. We really need to do more about this, conservatives like to imagine that it s gone away but people are still getting sick and dying of it. John Goerzen wrote an informative article about air gaps and ways they can be part of a useful and usable security system [4]. This YouTube video has a good introduction to LLMs (Large Languge Models) for machine learning [5]. This eye tracker is interesting technology [6]. The video shows it being used for MS Flight Simulator but it can be used for other things. Unfortunately the price of about $550 Australian puts it out of range of a lot of free software work. I think this would be good for tracking the user FOR THEIR BENEFIT so that notifications won t be delivered when the user is concentrating. This ABC article about the risk of a past Covid19 infection exacerbating or accelerating Parkinson s or Alzheimer s is a worry [7]. Sam Hartman wrote an insightful blog post about AI safety, consent, and discussions of sex [8].

27 December 2022

Chris Lamb: Favourite books of 2022: Fiction

This post marks the beginning my yearly roundups of the favourite books and movies that I read and watched in 2022 that I plan to publish over the next few days. Just as I did for 2020 and 2021, I won't reveal precisely how many books I read in the last year. I didn't get through as many books as I did in 2021, though, but that's partly due to reading a significant number of long nineteenth-century novels in particular, a fair number of those books that American writer Henry James once referred to as "large, loose, baggy monsters." However, in today's post I'll be looking at my favourite books that are typically filed under fiction, with 'classic' fiction following tomorrow. Works that just missed the cut here include John O'Brien's Leaving Las Vegas, Colson Whitehead's Sag Harbor and possibly The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, or Elif Batuman's The Idiot. I also feel obliged to mention (or is that show off?) that I also read the 1,079-page Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, but I can't say it was a favourite, let alone recommend others unless they are in the market for a good-quality under-monitor stand.

Mona (2021) Pola Oloixarac Mona is the story of a young woman who has just been nominated for the 'most important literary award in Europe'. Mona sees the nomination as a chance to escape her substance abuse on a Californian campus and so speedily decamps to the small village in the depths of Sweden where the nominees must convene for a week before the overall winner is announced. Mona didn't disappear merely to avoid pharmacological misadventures, though, but also to avoid the growing realisation that she is being treated as something of an anthropological curiosity at her university: a female writer of colour treasured for her flourish of exotic diversity that reflects well upon her department. But Mona is now stuck in the company of her literary competitors who all have now gathered from around the world in order to do what writers do: harbour private resentments, exchange empty flattery, embody the selfsame racialised stereotypes that Mona left the United States to avoid, stab rivals in the back, drink too much, and, of course, go to bed together. But as I read Mona, I slowly started to realise that something else is going on. Why does Mona keep finding traces of violence on her body, the origins of which she cannot or refuses to remember? There is something eerily defensive about her behaviour and sardonic demeanour in general as well. A genre-bending and mind-expanding novel unfolded itself, and, without getting into spoiler territory, Mona concludes with such a surprising ending that, according to Adam Thirlwell:
Perhaps we need to rethink what is meant by a gimmick. If a gimmick is anything that we want to reject as extra or excessive or ill-fitting, then it may be important to ask what inhibitions or arbitrary conventions have made it seem like excess, and to revel in the exorbitant fictional constructions it produces. [...]
Mona is a savage satire of the literary world, but it's also a very disturbing exploration of trauma and violence. The success of the book comes in equal measure from the author's commitment to both ideas, but also from the way the psychological damage component creeps up on you. And, as implied above, the last ten pages are quite literally out of this world.

My Brilliant Friend (2011)
The Story of a New Name (2012)
Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (2013)
The Story of the Lost Child (2014) Elena Ferrante Elena Ferrante's Neopolitan Quartet follows two girls, both brilliant in their own way. Our protagonist-narrator is Elena, a studious girl from the lower rungs of the middle class of Naples who is inspired to be more by her childhood friend, Lila. Lila is, in turn, far more restricted by her poverty and class, but can transcend it at times through her fiery nature, which also brands her as somewhat unique within their inward-looking community. The four books follow the two girls from the perspective of Elena as they grow up together in post-war Italy, where they drift in-and-out of each other's lives due to the vicissitudes of change and the consequences of choice. All the time this is unfolding, however, the narrative is very always slightly charged by the background knowledge revealed on the very first page that Lila will, many years later, disappear from Elena's life. Whilst the quartet has the formal properties of a bildungsroman, its subject and conception are almost entirely different. In particular, the books are driven far more by character and incident than spectacular adventures in picturesque Italy. In fact, quite the opposite takes place: these are four books where ordinary-seeming occurrences take on an unexpected radiance against a background of poverty, ignorance, violence and other threats, often bringing to mind the films of the Italian neorealism movement. Brilliantly rendered from beginning to end, Ferrante has a seemingly studious eye for interpreting interactions and the psychology of adolescence and friendship. Some utterances indeed, perhaps even some glances are dissected at length over multiple pages, something that Vittorio De Sica's classic Bicycle Thieves (1948) could never do. Potential readers should not take any notice of the saccharine cover illustrations on most editions of the books. The quartet could even win an award for the most misleading artwork, potentially rivalling even Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it is revealed that the drippy illustrations and syrupy blurbs ("a rich, intense and generous-hearted story ") turn out to be part of a larger metatextual game that Ferrante is playing with her readers. This idiosyncratic view of mine is partially supported by the fact that each of the four books has been given a misleading title, the true ambiguity of which often only becomes clear as each of the four books comes into sharper focus. Readers of the quartet often fall into debating which is the best of the four. I've heard from more than one reader that one has 'too much Italian politics' and another doesn't have enough 'classic' Lina moments. The first book then possesses the twin advantages of both establishing the environs and finishing with a breathtaking ending that is both satisfying and a cliffhanger as well but does this make it 'the best'? I prefer to liken the quartet more like the different seasons of The Wire (2002-2008) where, personal favourites and preferences aside, although each season is undoubtedly unique, it would take a certain kind of narrow-minded view of art to make the claim that, say, series one of The Wire is 'the best' or that the season that focuses on the Baltimore docks 'is boring'. Not to sound like a neo-Wagnerian, but each of them adds to final result in its own. That is to say, both The Wire and the Neopolitan Quartet achieve the rare feat of making the magisterial simultaneously intimate.

Out There: Stories (2022) Kate Folk Out There is a riveting collection of disturbing short stories by first-time author Kate Fork. The title story first appeared in the New Yorker in early 2020 imagines a near-future setting where a group of uncannily handsome artificial men called 'blots' have arrived on the San Francisco dating scene with the secret mission of sleeping with women, before stealing their personal data from their laptops and phones and then (quite literally) evaporating into thin air. Folk's satirical style is not at all didactic, so it rarely feels like she is making her points in a pedantic manner. But it's clear that the narrator of Out There is recounting her frustration with online dating. in a way that will resonate with anyone who s spent time with dating apps or indeed the contemporary hyper-centralised platform-based internet in general. Part social satire, part ghost story and part comic tales, the blurring of the lines between these factors is only one of the things that makes these stories so compelling. But whilst Folk constructs crazy scenarios and intentionally strange worlds, she also manages to also populate them with characters that feel real and genuinely sympathetic. Indeed, I challenge you not to feel some empathy for the 'blot' in the companion story Big Sur which concludes the collection, and it complicates any primary-coloured view of the dating world of consisting entirely of predatory men. And all of this is leavened with a few stories that are just plain surreal. I don't know what the deal is with Dating a Somnambulist (available online on Hobart Pulp), but I know that I like it.

Solaris (1961) Stanislaw Lem When Kelvin arrives at the planet Solaris to study the strange ocean that covers its surface, instead of finding an entirely physical scientific phenomenon, he soon discovers a previously unconscious memory embodied in the physical manifestation of a long-dead lover. The other scientists on the space station slowly reveal that they are also plagued with their own repressed corporeal memories. Many theories are put forward as to why all this is occuring, including the idea that Solaris is a massive brain that creates these incarnate memories. Yet if that is the case, the planet's purpose in doing so is entirely unknown, forcing the scientists to shift focus and wonder whether they can truly understand the universe without first understanding what lies within their own minds and in their desires. This would be an interesting outline for any good science fiction book, but one of the great strengths of Solaris is not only that it withholds from the reader why the planet is doing anything it does, but the book is so forcefully didactic in its dislike of the hubris, destructiveness and colonial thinking that can accompany scientific exploration. In one of its most vitriolic passages, Lem's own anger might be reaching out to the reader:
We are humanitarian and chivalrous; we don t want to enslave other races, we simply want to bequeath them our values and take over their heritage in exchange. We think of ourselves as the Knights of the Holy Contact. This is another lie. We are only seeking Man. We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don t know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can t accept it for what it is. We are searching for an ideal image of our own world: we go in quest of a planet, of a civilisation superior to our own, but developed on the basis of a prototype of our primaeval past. At the same time, there is something inside us that we don t like to face up to, from which we try to protect ourselves, but which nevertheless remains since we don t leave Earth in a state of primal innocence. We arrive here as we are in reality, and when the page is turned, and that reality is revealed to us that part of our reality that we would prefer to pass over in silence then we don t like it anymore.
An overwhelming preoccupation with this idea infuses Solaris, and it turns out to be a common theme in a lot of Lem's work of this period, such as in his 1959 'anti-police procedural' The Investigation. Perhaps it not a dislike of exploration in general or the modern scientific method in particular, but rather a savage critique of the arrogance and self-assuredness that accompanies most forms of scientific positivism, or at least pursuits that cloak themselves under the guise of being a laudatory 'scientific' pursuit:
Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed.
I doubt I need to cite specific instances of contemporary scientific pursuits that might meet Lem's punishing eye today, and the fact that his critique works both in 2022 and 1961 perhaps tells us more about the human condition than we'd care to know. Another striking thing about Solaris isn't just the specific Star Trek and Stargate SG-1 episodes that I retrospectively realised were purloined from the book, but that almost the entire register of Star Trek: The Next Generation in particular seems to be rehearsed here. That is to say, TNG presents itself as hard and fact-based 'sci-fi' on the surface, but, at its core, there are often human, existential and sometimes quite enormously emotionally devastating human themes being discussed such as memory, loss and grief. To take one example from many, the painful memories that the planet Solaris physically materialises in effect asks us to seriously consider what it actually is taking place when we 'love' another person: is it merely another 'mirror' of ourselves? (And, if that is the case, is that... bad?) It would be ahistorical to claim that all popular science fiction today can be found rehearsed in Solaris, but perhaps it isn't too much of a stretch:
[Solaris] renders unnecessary any more alien stories. Nothing further can be said on this topic ...] Possibly, it can be said that when one feels the urge for such a thing, one should simply reread Solaris and learn its lessons again. Kim Stanley Robinson [...]
I could go on praising this book for quite some time; perhaps by discussing the extreme framing devices used within the book at one point, the book diverges into a lengthy bibliography of fictional books-within-the-book, each encapsulating a different theory about what the mechanics and/or function of Solaris is, thereby demonstrating that 'Solaris studies' as it is called within the world of the book has been going on for years with no tangible results, which actually leads to extreme embarrassment and then a deliberate and willful blindness to the 'Solaris problem' on the part of the book's scientific community. But I'll leave it all here before this review gets too long... Highly recommended, and a likely reread in 2023.

Brokeback Mountain (1997) Annie Proulx Brokeback Mountain began as a short story by American author Annie Proulx which appeared in the New Yorker in 1997, although it is now more famous for the 2005 film adaptation directed by Taiwanese filmmaker Ang Lee. Both versions follow two young men who are hired for the summer to look after sheep at a range under the 'Brokeback' mountain in Wyoming. Unexpectedly, however, they form an intense emotional and sexual attachment, yet life intervenes and demands they part ways at the end of the summer. Over the next twenty years, though, as their individual lives play out with marriages, children and jobs, they continue reuniting for brief albeit secret liaisons on camping trips in remote settings. There's no feigned shyness or self-importance in Brokeback Mountain, just a close, compassionate and brutally honest observation of a doomed relationship and a bone-deep feeling for the hardscrabble life in the post-War West. To my mind, very few books have captured so acutely the desolation of a frustrated and repressed passion, as well as the particular flavour of undirected anger that can accompany this kind of yearning. That the original novella does all this in such a beautiful way (and without the crutch of the Wyoming landscape to look at ) is a tribute to Proulx's skills as a writer. Indeed, even without the devasting emotional undertones, Proulx's descriptions of the mountains and scree of the West is likely worth the read alone.

Luster (2020) Raven Leilani Edie is a young Black woman living in New York whose life seems to be spiralling out of control. She isn't good at making friends, her career is going nowhere, and she has no close family to speak of as well. She is, thus, your typical NYC millennial today, albeit seen through a lens of Blackness that complicates any reductive view of her privilege or minority status. A representative paragraph might communicate the simmering tone:
Before I start work, I browse through some photos of friends who are doing better than me, then an article on a black teenager who was killed on 115th for holding a weapon later identified as a showerhead, then an article on a black woman who was killed on the Grand Concourse for holding a weapon later identified as a cell phone, then I drown myself in the comments section and do some online shopping, by which I mean I put four dresses in my cart as a strictly theoretical exercise and then let the page expire.
She starts a sort-of affair with an older white man who has an affluent lifestyle in nearby New Jersey. Eric or so he claims has agreed upon an 'open relationship' with his wife, but Edie is far too inappropriate and disinhibited to respect any boundaries that Eric sets for her, and so Edie soon becomes deeply entangled in Eric's family life. It soon turns out that Eric and his wife have a twelve-year-old adopted daughter, Akila, who is also wait for it Black. Akila has been with Eric's family for two years now and they aren t exactly coping well together. They don t even know how to help her to manage her own hair, let alone deal with structural racism. Yet despite how dark the book's general demeanour is, there are faint glimmers of redemption here and there. Realistic almost to the end, Edie might finally realise what s important in her life, but it would be a stretch to say that she achieves them by the final page. Although the book is full of acerbic remarks on almost any topic (Dogs: "We made them needy and physically unfit. They used to be wolves, now they are pugs with asthma."), it is the comments on contemporary race relations that are most critically insightful. Indeed, unsentimental, incisive and funny, Luster had much of what I like in Colson Whitehead's books at times, but I can't remember a book so frantically fast-paced as this since the Booker-prize winning The Sellout by Paul Beatty or Sam Tallent's Running the Light.

31 July 2022

Joachim Breitner: The Via Alpina red trail through Slovenia

This July my girlfriend and I hiked the Slovenian part of the Red Trail of the Via Alpina, from the edge of the Julian Alps to Trieste, and I d like to share some observations and tips that we might have found useful before our trip.
Our most favorite camp spot Our most favorite camp spot

Getting there As we traveled with complete camping gear and wanted to stay in our tent, we avoided the high alpine parts of the trail and started just where the trail came down from the Alps and entered the Karst. A great way to get there is to take the night train from Zurich or Munich towards Ljubljana, get off at Jesenice, have breakfast, take the local train to Podbrdo and you can start your tour at 9:15am. From there you can reach the trail at Pedrovo Brdo within 1 h.

Finding the way We did not use any paper maps, and instead relied on the OpenStreetMap data, which is very good, as well as the official(?) GPX tracks on Komoot, which are linked from the official route descriptions. We used OsmAnd. In general, trails are generally very well marked (red circle with white center, and frequent signs), but the signs rarely tell you which way the Via Alpina goes, so the GPS was needed. Sometimes the OpenStreetMap trail and the Komoot trail disagreed on short segments. We sometimes followed one and other times the other.

Variants We diverged from the trail in a few places:
  • We did not care too much about the horses in Lipica and at least on the map it looked like a longish boringish and sun-exposed detour, so we cut the loop and hiked from Prelo e pri Lokvi up onto the peak of the Veliko Gradi e (which unfortunately is too overgrown to provide a good view).
  • When we finally reached the top of Mali Kras and had a view across the bay of Trieste, it seemed silly to walk to down to Dolina, and instead we followed the ridge through Socerb, essentially the Alpe Adria Trail.
  • Not really a variant, but after arriving in Muggia, if one has to go to Trieste, the ferry is a probably nicer way to finish a trek than the bus.

Pitching a tent We used our tent almost every night, only in Idrija we got a room (and a shower ). It was not trivial to find good camp spots, because most of the trail is on hills with slopes, and the flat spots tend to have housed built on them, but certainly possible. Sometimes we hid in the forest, other times we found nice small and freshly mowed meadows within the forest.

Water Since this is Karst land, there is very little in terms of streams or lakes along the way, which is a pity. The Idrijca river right south of Idrija was very tempting to take a plunge. Unfortunately we passed there early in the day and we wanted to cover some ground first, so we refrained. As for drinking water, we used the taps at the bathrooms of the various touristic sites, a few (but rare) public fountains, and finally resorted to just ringing random doorbells and asking for water, which always worked.

Paths A few stages lead you through very pleasant narrow forest paths with a sight, but not all. On some days you find yourself plodding along wide graveled or even paved forest roads, though.

Landscape and sights The view from Nanos is amazing and, with this high peak jutting out over a wide plain, rather unique. It may seem odd that the trail goes up and down that mountain on the same day when it could go around, but it is certainly worth it. The Karst is mostly a cultivated landscape, with lots of forestry. It is very hilly and green, which is pretty, but some might miss some craggedness. It s not the high alps, after all, but at least they are in sight half the time. But the upside is that there are few sights along the way that are worth visiting, in particular the the Franja Partisan Hospital hidden in a very narrow gorge, the Predjama Castle and the kocjan Caves

27 January 2022

Russ Allbery: Review: I Didn't Do the Thing Today

Review: I Didn't Do the Thing Today, by Madeleine Dore
Publisher: Avery
Copyright: 2022
ISBN: 0-593-41914-6
Format: Kindle
Pages: 291
At least from my narrow view of it, the world of productivity self-help literature is a fascinating place right now. The pandemic overturned normal work patterns and exacerbated schedule inequality, creating vastly different experiences for the people whose work continued to be in-person and the people whose work could become mostly or entirely remote. Self-help literature, which is primarily aimed at the more affluent white-collar class, primarily tracked the latter disruption: newly-remote work, endless Zoom meetings, the impossibility of child care, the breakdown of boundaries between work and home, and the dawning realization that much of the mechanics of day-to-day office work are neither productive nor defensible. My primary exposure these days to the more traditional self-help productivity literature is via Cal Newport. The stereotype of the productivity self-help book is a collection of life hacks and list-making techniques that will help you become a more efficient capitalist cog, but Newport has been moving away from that dead end for as long as I've been reading him, and his recent work focuses more on structural issues with the organization of knowledge work. He also shares with the newer productivity writers a willingness to tell people to use the free time they recover via improved efficiency on some life goal other than improved job productivity. But he's still prickly and defensive about the importance of personal productivity and accomplishing things. He gives lip service on his podcast to the value of the critique of productivity, but then usually reverts to characterizing anti-productivity arguments as saying that productivity is a capitalist invention to control workers. (Someone has doubtless said this on Twitter, but I've never seen a serious critique of productivity make this simplistic of an argument.) On the anti-productivity side, as it's commonly called, I've seen a lot of new writing in the past couple of years that tries to break the connection between productivity and human worth so endemic to US society. This is not a new analysis; disabled writers have been making this point for decades, it's present in both Keynes and in Galbraith's The Affluent Society, and Kathi Weeks's The Problem with Work traces some of its history in Marxist thought. But what does feel new to me is its widespread mainstream appearance in newspaper articles, viral blog posts, and books such as Jenny Odell's How to Do Nothing and Devon Price's Laziness Does Not Exist. The pushback against defining life around productivity is having a moment. Entering this discussion is Madeleine Dore's I Didn't Do the Thing Today. Dore is the author of the Extraordinary Routines blog and host of the Routines and Ruts podcast. Extraordinary Routines began as a survey of how various people organize their daily lives. I Didn't Do the Thing Today is, according to the preface, a summary of the thoughts Dore has had about her own life and routines as a result of those interviews. As you might guess from the subtitle (Letting Go of Productivity Guilt), Dore's book is superficially on the anti-productivity side. Its chapters are organized around gentle critiques of productivity concepts, with titles like "The Hopeless Search for the Ideal Routine," "The Myth of Balance," or "The Harsh Rules of Discipline." But I think anti-productivity is a poor name for this critique; its writers are not opposed to being productive, only to its position as an all-consuming focus and guilt-generating measure of personal worth. Dore structures most chapters by naming an aspect, goal, or concern of a life defined by productivity, such as wasted time, ambition, busyness, distraction, comparison, or indecision. Each chapter sketches the impact of that idea and then attempts to gently dismantle the grip that it may have on the reader's life. All of these discussions are nuanced; it's rare for Dore to say that one of these aspects has no value, and she anticipates numerous objections. But her overarching goal is to help the reader be more comfortable with imperfection, more willing to live in the moment, and less frustrated with the limitations of life and the human brain. If striving for productivity is like lifting weights, Dore's diagnosis is that we've tried too hard for too long, and have overworked that muscle until it is cramping. This book is a gentle massage to induce the muscle to relax and let go. Whether this will work is, as with all self-help books, individual. I found it was best read in small quantities, perhaps a chapter per day, since it otherwise began feeling too much the same. I'm also not the ideal audience; Dore is a creative freelancer and primarily interviewed other creative people, which I think has a different sort of productivity rhythm than the work that I do. She's also not a planner to the degree that I am; more on that below. And yet, I found this book worked on me anyway. I can't say that I was captivated all the way through, but I found myself mentally relaxing while I was reading it, and I may re-read some chapters from time to time. How does this relate to the genre of productivity self-help? With less conflict than I think productivity writers believe, although there seems to be one foundational difference of perspective. Dore is not opposed to accomplishing things, or even to systems that help people accomplish things. She is more attuned than the typical productivity writer to the guilt and frustration that can accumulate when one has a day in which one does not do the thing, but her goal is not to talk you out of attempting things. It is, instead, to convince you to hold those attempts and goals more lightly, to allow them to move and shift and change, and to not treat a failure to do the thing today as a reason for guilt. This is wholly compatible with standard productivity advice. It's adding nuance at one level of abstraction higher: how tightly to cling to productivity goals, and what to do when they don't work out. Cramping muscles are not strong muscles capable of lifting heavy things. If one can massage out the cramp, one's productivity by even the strict economic definition may improve. Where I do see a conflict is that most productivity writers are planners, and Dore is not. This is, I think, a significant blind spot in productivity self-help writing. Cal Newport, for example, advocates time-block planning, where every hour of the working day has a job. David Allen advocates a complex set of comprehensive lists and well-defined next actions. Mark Forster builds a flurry of small systems for working through lists. The standard in productivity writing is to to add structure to your day and cultivate the self-discipline required to stick to that structure. For many people, including me, this largely works. I'm mostly a planner, and when my life gets chaotic, adding more structure and focusing on that structure helps me. But the productivity writers I've read are quite insistent that their style of structure will work for everyone, and on that point I am dubious. Newport, for example, advocates time-block planning for everyone without exception, insisting that it is the best way to structure a day. Dore, in contrast, describes spending years trying to perfect a routine before realizing that elastic possibilities work better for her than routines. For those who are more like Dore than Newport, I Didn't Do the Thing Today is more likely to be helpful than Newport's instructions. This doesn't make Newport's ideas wrong; it simply makes them not universal, something that the productivity self-help genre seems to have trouble acknowledging. Even for readers like myself who prefer structure, I Didn't Do the Thing Today is a valuable corrective to the emphasis on every-better systems. For those who never got along with too much structure, I think it may strike a chord. The standard self-help caveat still applies: Dore has the most to say to people who are in a similar social class and line of work as her. I'm not sure this book will be of much help to someone who has to juggle two jobs with shift work and child care, where the problem is more sharp external constraints than internalized productivity guilt. But for its target audience, I think it's a valuable, calming message. Dore doesn't have a recipe to sort out your life, but may help you feel better about the merits of life unsorted. Rating: 7 out of 10

9 January 2022

Russell Coker: Video Conferencing (LCA)

I ve just done a tech check for my LCA lecture. I had initially planned to do what I had done before and use my phone for recording audio and video and my PC for other stuff. The problem is that I wanted to get an external microphone going and plugging in a USB microphone turned off the speaker in the phone (it seemed to direct audio to a non-existent USB audio output). I tried using bluetooth headphones with the USB microphone and that didn t work. Eventually a viable option seemed to be using USB headphones on my PC with the phone for camera and microphone. Then it turned out that my phone (Huawei Mate 10 Pro) didn t support resolutions higher than VGA with Chrome (it didn t have the advanced settings menu to select resolution), this is probably an issue of Android build features. So the best option is to use a webcam on the PC, I was recommended a Logitech C922 but OfficeWorks only has a Logitech C920 which is apparently OK. The free connection test from freeconference.com [1] is good for testing out how your browser works for videoconferencing. It tests each feature separately and is easy to run. After buying the C920 webcam I found that it sometimes worked and sometimes caused a kernel panic like the following (partial panic log included for the benefit of people Googling this Logitech C920 problem):
[95457.805417] BUG: kernel NULL pointer dereference, address: 0000000000000000
[95457.805424] #PF: supervisor read access in kernel mode
[95457.805426] #PF: error_code(0x0000) - not-present page
[95457.805429] PGD 0 P4D 0 
[95457.805431] Oops: 0000 [#1] SMP PTI
[95457.805435] CPU: 2 PID: 75486 Comm: v4l2src0:src Not tainted 5.15.0-2-amd64 #1  Debian 5.15.5-2
[95457.805438] Hardware name: HP ProLiant ML110 Gen9/ProLiant ML110 Gen9, BIOS P99 02/17/2017
[95457.805440] RIP: 0010:usb_ifnum_to_if+0x3a/0x50 [usbcore]
...
[95457.805481] Call Trace:
[95457.805484]  
[95457.805485]  usb_hcd_alloc_bandwidth+0x23d/0x360 [usbcore]
[95457.805507]  usb_set_interface+0x127/0x350 [usbcore]
[95457.805525]  uvc_video_start_transfer+0x19c/0x4f0 [uvcvideo]
[95457.805532]  uvc_video_start_streaming+0x7b/0xd0 [uvcvideo]
[95457.805538]  uvc_start_streaming+0x2d/0xf0 [uvcvideo]
[95457.805543]  vb2_start_streaming+0x63/0x100 [videobuf2_common]
[95457.805550]  vb2_core_streamon+0x54/0xb0 [videobuf2_common]
[95457.805555]  uvc_queue_streamon+0x2a/0x40 [uvcvideo]
[95457.805560]  uvc_ioctl_streamon+0x3a/0x60 [uvcvideo]
[95457.805566]  __video_do_ioctl+0x39b/0x3d0 [videodev]
It turns out that Ubuntu Launchpad bug #1827452 has great information on this problem [2]. Apparently if the device decides it doesn t have enough power then it will reconnect and get a different USB bus device number and this often happens when the kernel is initialising it. There s a race condition in the kernel code in which the code to initialise the device won t realise that the device has been detached and will dereference a NULL pointer and then mess up other things in USB device management. The end result for me is that all USB devices become unusable in this situation, commands like lsusb hang, and a regular shutdown/reboot hangs because it can t kill the user session because something is blocked on USB. One of the comments on the Launchpad bug is that a powered USB hub can alleviate the problem while a USB extension cable (which I had been using) can exacerbate it. Officeworks currently advertises only one powered USB hub, it s described as USB 3 but also maximum speed 480 Mbps (USB 2 speed). So basically they are selling a USB 2 hub for 4* the price that USB 2 hubs used to sell for. When debugging this I used the cheese webcam utility program and ran it in a KVM virtual machine. The KVM parameters -device qemu-xhci -usb -device usb-host,hostbus=1,hostaddr=2 (where 1 and 2 are replaced by the Bus and Device numbers from lsusb ) allow the USB device to be passed through to the VM. Doing this meant that I didn t have to reboot my PC every time a webcam test failed. For audio I m using the Sades Wand gaming headset I wrote about previously [3].

3 January 2022

Russ Allbery: Review: Crashed

Review: Crashed, by Adam Tooze
Publisher: Penguin Books
Copyright: 2018
Printing: 2019
ISBN: 0-525-55880-2
Format: Kindle
Pages: 615
The histories of the 2008 financial crisis that I have read focus almost exclusively on the United States. They also stop after the bank rescue and TARP or, if they press on into the aftermath, focus on the resulting damage to the US economy and the widespread pain of falling housing prices and foreclosure. Crashed does neither, instead arguing that 2008 was a crisis of European banks as much as American banks. It extends its history to cover the sovereign debt crisis in the eurozone, treating it as a continuation of the same crisis in a different guise. In the process, Tooze makes a compelling argument that one can draw a clear, if wandering, line from the moral revulsion at the propping up of the international banking system to Brexit and Trump. Qualifications first, since they are important for this type of comprehensive and, in places, surprising and counterintuitive history. Adam Tooze is Kathryn and Shelby Cullom Davis Professor of History at Columbia University and the director of its European Institute. His previous books have won multiple awards, and Crashed won the Lionel Gelber Prize for non-fiction on foreign policy. That it won a prize in that topic, rather than history or economics, is a hint at Tooze's chosen lens. The first half of the book is the lead-up and response to the crisis provoked by the collapse in value of securitized US mortgages and leading to the failure of Lehman Brothers, the failure in all but name of AIG, and a massive bank rescue. The financial instruments at the center of the crisis are complex and difficult to understand, and Tooze provides only brief explanation. This therefore may not be the best first book on the crisis; for that, I would still recommend Bethany McClean and Joe Nocera's All the Devils Are Here, although it's hard to beat Michael Lewis's storytelling in The Big Short. Tooze is not interested in dwelling on a blow-by-blow account of the crisis and initial response, and some of his account feels perfunctory. He is instead interested in describing its entangled global sweep. The new detail I took from the first half of Crashed is the depth of involvement of the European banks in what is often portrayed as a US crisis. Tooze goes into more specifics than other accounts on the eurodollar market, run primarily through the City of London, and the vast dollar-denominated liabilities of European banks. When the crisis struck, the breakdown of liquidity markets left those banks with no source of dollar funding to repay dollar-denominated short-term loans. The scale of dollar borrowing by European banks was vast, dwarfing the currency reserves or trade surpluses of their home countries. An estimate from the Bank of International Settlements put the total dollar funding needs for European banks at more than $2 trillion. The institution that saved the European banks was the United States Federal Reserve. This was an act of economic self-protection, not largesse; in the absence of dollar liquidity, the fire sale of dollar assets by European banks in a desperate attempt to cover their loans would have exacerbated the market crash. But it's remarkable in its extent, and in how deeply this contradicts the later public political position that 2008 was an American recession caused by American banks. 52% of the mortgage-backed securities purchased by the Federal Reserve in its quantitative easing policies (popularly known as QE1, QE2, and QE3) were sold by foreign banks. Deutsche Bank and Credit Suisse unloaded more securities on the Fed than any American bank by a significant margin. And when that wasn't enough, the Fed went farther and extended swap lines to major national banks, providing them dollar liquidity that they could then pass along to their local institutions. In essence, in Tooze's telling, the US Federal Reserve became the reserve bank for the entire world, preventing a currency crisis by providing dollars to financial systems both foreign and domestic, and it did so with a remarkable lack of scrutiny. Its swap lines avoided public review until 2010, when Bloomberg won a court fight to extract the records. That allowed the European banks that benefited to hide the extent of their exposure.
In Europe, the bullish CEOs of Deutsche Bank and Barclays claimed exceptional status because they avoided taking aid from their national governments. What the Fed data reveal is the hollowness of those boasts. The banks might have avoided state-sponsored recapitalization, but every major bank in the entire world was taking liquidity assistance on a grand scale from its local central bank, and either directly or indirectly by way of the swap lines from the Fed.
The emergency steps taken by Timothy Geithner in the Treasury Department were nearly as dramatic as those of the Federal Reserve. Without regard for borders, and pushing the boundary of their legal authority, they intervened massively in the world (not just the US) economy to save the banking and international finance system. And it worked. One of the benefits of a good history is to turn stories about heroes and villains into more nuanced information about motives and philosophies. I came away from Sheila Bair's account of the crisis furious at Geithner's protection of banks from any meaningful consequences for their greed. Tooze's account, and analysis, agrees with Bair in many respects, but Bair was continuing a personal fight and Tooze has more space to put Geithner into context. That context tells an interesting story about the shape of political economics in the 21st century. Tooze identifies Geithner as an institutionalist. His goal was to keep the system running, and he was acutely aware of what would happen if it failed. He therefore focused on the pragmatic and the practical: the financial system was about to collapse, he did whatever was necessary to keep it working, and that effort was successful. Fairness, fault, and morals were treated as irrelevant. This becomes more obvious when contrasted with the eurozone crisis, which started with a Greek debt crisis in the wake of the recession triggered by the 2008 crisis. Greece is tiny by the standards of the European economy, so at first glance there is no obvious reason why its debt crisis should have perturbed the financial system. Under normal circumstances, its lenders should have been able to absorb such relatively modest losses. But the immediate aftermath of the 2008 crisis was not normal circumstances, particularly in Europe. The United States had moved aggressively to recapitalize its banks using the threat of compensation caps and government review of their decisions. The European Union had not; European countries had done very little, and their banks were still in a fragile state. Worse, the European Central Bank had sent signals that the market interpreted as guaranteeing the safety of all European sovereign debt equally, even though this was explicitly ruled out by the Lisbon Treaty. If Greece defaulted on its debt, not only would that be another shock to already-precarious banks, it would indicate to the market that all European debt was not equal and other countries may also be allowed to default. As the shape of the Greek crisis became clearer, the cost of borrowing for all of the economically weaker European countries began rising towards unsustainable levels. In contrast to the approach taken by the United States government, though, Europe took a moralistic approach to the crisis. Jean-Claude Trichet, then president of the European Central Bank, held the absolute position that defaulting on or renegotiating the Greek debt was unthinkable and would not be permitted, even though there was no realistic possibility that Greece would be able to repay. He also took a conservative hard line on the role of the ECB, arguing that it could not assist in this crisis. (Tooze is absolutely scathing towards Trichet, who comes off in this account as rigidly inflexible, volatile, and completely irrational.) Germany's position, represented by Angela Merkel, was far more realistic: Greece's debt should be renegotiated and the creditors would have to accept losses. This is, in Tooze's account, clearly correct, and indeed is what eventually happened. But the problem with Merkel's position was the potential fallout. The German government was still in denial about the health of its own banks, and political opinion, particularly in Merkel's coalition, was strongly opposed to making German taxpayers responsible for other people's debts. Stopping the progression of a Greek default to a loss of confidence in other European countries would require backstopping European sovereign debt, and Merkel was not willing to support this. Tooze is similarly scathing towards Merkel, but I'm not sure it's warranted by his own account. She seemed, even in his account, boxed in by domestic politics and the tight constraints of the European political structure. Regardless, even after Trichet's term ended and he was replaced by the far more pragmatic Mario Draghi, Germany and Merkel continued to block effective action to relieve Greece's debt burden. As a result, the crisis lurched from inadequate stopgap to inadequate stopgap, forcing crippling austerity, deep depressions, and continued market instability while pretending unsustainable debt would magically become payable through sufficient tax increases and spending cuts. US officials such as Geithner, who put morals and arguably legality aside to do whatever was needed to save the system, were aghast. One takeaway from this is that expansionary austerity is the single worst macroeconomic idea that anyone has ever had.
In the summer of 2012 [the IMF's] staff revisited the forecasts they had made in the spring of 2010 as the eurozone crisis began and discovered that they had systematically underestimated the negative impact of budget cuts. Whereas they had started the crisis believing that the multiplier was on average around 0.5, they now concluded that from 2010 forward it had been in excess of 1. This meant that cutting government spending by 1 euro, as the austerity programs demanded, would reduce economic activity by more than 1 euro. So the share of the state in economic activity actually increased rather than decreased, as the programs presupposed. It was a staggering admission. Bad economics and faulty empirical assumptions had led the IMF to advocate a policy that destroyed the economic prospects for a generation of young people in Southern Europe.
Another takeaway, though, is central to Tooze's point in the final section of the book: the institutionalists in the United States won the war on financial collapse via massive state interventions to support banks and the financial system, a model that Europe grudgingly had to follow when attempting to reject it caused vast suffering while still failing to stabilize the financial system. But both did so via actions that were profoundly and obviously unfair, and only questionably legal. Bankers suffered few consequences for their greed and systematic mismanagement, taking home their normal round of bonuses while millions of people lost their homes and unemployment rates for young men in some European countries exceeded 50%. In Europe, the troika's political pressure against Greece and Italy was profoundly anti-democratic. The financial elite achieved their goal of saving the financial system. It could have failed, that failure would have been catastrophic, and their actions are defensible on pragmatic grounds. But they completely abandoned the moral high ground in the process. The political forces opposed to centrist neoliberalism attempted to step into that moral gap. On the Left, that came in the form of mass protest movements, Occupy Wall Street, Bernie Sanders, and parties such as Syriza in Greece. The Left, broadly, took the moral side of debtors, holding that the primary pain of the crisis should instead be born by the wealthy creditors who were more able to absorb it. The Right by contrast, in the form of the Tea Party movement inside the Republican Party in the United States and the nationalist parties in Europe, broadly blamed debtors for taking on excessive debt and focused their opposition on use of taxpayer dollars to bail out investment banks and other institutions of the rich. Tooze correctly points out that the Right's embrace of racist nationalism and incoherent demagoguery obscures the fact that their criticism of the elite center has real merit and is partly shared by the Left. As Tooze sketches out, the elite centrist consensus held in most of Europe, beating back challenges from both the Left and the Right, although it faltered in the UK, Poland, and Hungary. In the United States, the Democratic Party similarly solidified around neoliberalism and saw off its challenges from the Left. The Republican Party, however, essentially abandoned the centrist position, embracing the Right. That left the Democratic Party as the sole remaining neoliberal institutionalist party, supplemented by a handful of embattled Republican centrists. Wall Street and its money swung to the Democratic Party, but it was deeply unpopular on both the Left and the Right and this shift may have hurt them more than helped. The Democrats, by not abandoning the center, bore the brunt of the residual anger over the bank bailout and subsequent deep recession. Tooze sees in that part of the explanation for Trump's electoral victory over Hilary Clinton. This review is already much too long, and I haven't even mentioned Tooze's clear explanation of the centrality of treasury bonds to world finances, or his discussions of Russian and Ukraine, China, or Brexit, all of which I thought were excellent. This is not only an comprehensive history of both of the crises and international politics of the time period. It is also a thought-provoking look at how drastic of interventions are required to keep the supposed free market working, who is left to suffer after those interventions, and the political consequences of the choice to prioritize the stability of a deeply inequitable and unsafe financial system. At least in the United States, there is now a major political party that is likely to oppose even mundane international financial institutions, let alone another major intervention. The neoliberal center is profoundly weakened. But nothing has been done to untangle the international financial system, and little has been done to reduce its risk. The world will go into the next financial challenge still suffering from a legitimacy crisis. Given the miserly, condescending, and dismissive treatment of the suffering general populace after moving heaven and earth to save the banking system, that legitimacy crisis is arguably justified, but an uncontrolled crash of the financial system is not likely to be any kinder to the average citizen than it is to the investment bankers. Crashed is not the best-written book at a sentence-by-sentence level. Tooze's prose is choppy and a bit awkward, and his paragraphs occasionally wander away from a clear point. But the content is excellent and thought-provoking, filling in large sections of the crisis picture that I had not previously been aware of and making a persuasive argument for its continuing effects on current politics. Recommended if you're not tired of reading about financial crises. Rating: 8 out of 10

29 December 2021

Russ Allbery: Review: A Spindle Splintered

Review: A Spindle Splintered, by Alix E. Harrow
Series: Fractured Fables #1
Publisher: Tordotcom
Copyright: 2021
ISBN: 1-250-76536-6
Format: Kindle
Pages: 121
Zinnia Gray lives in rural Ohio and is obsessed with Sleeping Beauty, even though the fairy tale objectively sucks. That has a lot to do with having Generalized Roseville Malady, an always-fatal progressive amyloidosis caused by teratogenic industrial waste. No one with GRM has ever lived to turn twenty-two. A Spindle Splintered opens on Zinnia's twenty-first birthday. For her birthday, her best (and only) friend Charm (Charmaine Baldwin) throws her a party at the tower. There aren't a lot of towers in Ohio; this one is a guard tower at an abandoned state penitentiary occasionally used by the local teenagers, which is not quite the image one would get from fairy tales. But Charm fills it with roses, guests wearing cheap fairy wings, beer, and even an honest-to-god spinning wheel. At the end of the night, Zinnia decides to prick her finger on the spindle on a whim. Much to both of their surprise, that's enough to trigger some form of magic in Zinnia's otherwise entirely mundane world. She doesn't fall asleep for a thousand years, but she does get dumped into an actual fairy-tale tower near an actual princess, just in time to prevent her from pricking her finger. This is, as advertised on the tin, a fractured fairy tale, but it's one that barely introduces the Sleeping Beauty story before driving it entirely off the rails. It's also a fractured fairy tale in which the protagonist knows exactly what sort of story she's in, given that she graduated early from high school and has a college degree in folk studies. (Dying girl rule #1: move fast.) And it's one in which the fairy tale universe still has cell reception, if not chargers, which means you can text your best friend sarcastic commentary on your multiversal travels. Also, cell phone pictures of the impossibly beautiful princess. I should mention up-front that I have not watched Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (yes, I know, I'm sure it's wonderful, I just don't watch things, basically ever), which is a quite explicit inspiration for this story. I'm therefore not sure how obvious the story would be to people familiar with that movie. Even with my familiarity with the general genre of fractured fairy tales, nothing plot-wise here was all that surprising. What carries this story is the characters and the emotional core, particularly Zinnia's complex and sardonic feelings about dying and the note-perfect friendship between Zinnia and Charm.
"You know it wasn't originally a spinning wheel in the story?" I offer, because alcohol transforms me into a chatty Wikipedia page.
A Spindle Splintered is told from Zinnia's first-person perspective, and Zinnia is great. My favorite thing about Harrow's writing is the fierce and complex emotions of her characters. The overall tone is lighter than The Once and Future Witches or The Ten Thousand Doors of January, but Harrow doesn't shy away from showing the reader Zinnia's internal thought process about her illness (and her eye-rolling bemusement at some of the earlier emotional stages she went through).
Dying girl rule #3 is no romance, because my entire life is one long trolley problem and I don't want to put any more bodies on the tracks. (I've spent enough time in therapy to know that this isn't "a healthy attitude towards attachment," but I personally feel that accepting my own imminent mortality is enough work without also having a healthy attitude about it.)
There's a content warning for parents here, since Harrow spends some time on the reaction of Zinnia's parents and the complicated dance between hope, despair, smothering, and freedom that she and they had to go through. There were no easy answers and all balances were fragile, but Zinnia always finds her feet. For me, Harrow's character writing is like emotional martial arts: rolling with punches, taking falls, clear-eyed about the setbacks, but always finding a new point of stability to punch back at the world. Zinnia adds just enough teenage irreverence and impatience to blunt the hardest emotional hits. I really enjoy reading it. The one caution I will make about that part of the story is that the focus is on Zinnia's projected lifespan and not on her illness specifically. Harrow uses it as setup to dig into how she and her parents would react to that knowledge (and I thought those parts were done well), but it's told from the perspective of "what would you do if you knew your date of death," not from the perspective of someone living with a disability. It is to some extent disability as plot device, and like the fairy tale that it's based on, it's deeply invested in the "find a cure" approach to the problem. I'm not disabled and am not the person to ask about how well a story handles disability, but I suspect this one may leave something to be desired. I thought the opening of this story is great. Zinnia is a great first-person protagonist and the opening few chapters are overflowing with snark and acerbic commentary. Dumping Zinnia into another world but having text messaging still work is genius, and I kind of wish Harrow had made that even more central to the book. The rest of the story was good but not as good, and the ending was somewhat predictable and a bit of a deus ex machina. But the characters carried it throughout, and I will happily read more of this. Recommended, with the caveat about disability and the content warning for parents. Followed by A Mirror Mended, which I have already pre-ordered. Rating: 8 out of 10

16 September 2021

Chris Lamb: On Colson Whitehead's Harlem Shuffle

Colson Whitehead's latest novel, Harlem Shuffle, was always going to be widely reviewed, if only because his last two books won Pulitzer prizes. Still, after enjoying both The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys, I was certainly going to read his next book, regardless of what the critics were saying indeed, it was actually quite agreeable to float above the manufactured energy of the book's launch. Saying that, I was encouraged to listen to an interview with the author by Ezra Klein. Now I had heard Whitehead speak once before when he accepted the Orwell Prize in 2020, and once again he came across as a pretty down-to-earth guy. Or if I were to emulate the detached and cynical tone Whitehead embodied in The Nickel Boys, after winning so many literary prizes in the past few years, he has clearly rehearsed how to respond to the cliched questions authors must be asked in every interview. With the obligatory throat-clearing of 'so, how did you get into writing?', for instance, Whitehead replies with his part of the catechism that 'It seemed like being a writer could be a cool job. You could work from home and not talk to people.' The response is the right combination of cute and self-effacing... and with its slight tone-deafness towards enforced isolation, it was no doubt honed before Covid-19. Harlem Shuffle tells three separate stories about Ray Carney, a furniture salesman and 'fence' for stolen goods in New York in the 1960s. Carney doesn't consider himself a genuine criminal though, and there's a certain logic to his relativistic morality. After all, everyone in New York City is on the take in some way, and if some 'lightly used items' in Carney's shop happened to have had 'previous owners', well, that's not quite his problem. 'Nothing solid in the city but the bedrock,' as one character dryly observes. Yet as Ezra pounces on in his NYT interview mentioned abov, the focus on the Harlem underworld means there are very few women in the book, and Whitehead's circular response ah well, it's a book about the criminals at that time! was a little unsatisfying. Not only did it feel uncharacteristically slippery of someone justly lauded for his unflinching power of observation (after all, it was the author who decided what to write about in the first place), it foreclosed on the opportunity to delve into why the heist and caper genres (from The Killing, The Feather Thief, Ocean's 11, etc.) have historically been a 'male' mode of storytelling. Perhaps knowing this to be the case, the conversation quickly steered towards Ray Carney's wife, Elizabeth, the only woman in the book who could be said possesses some plausible interiority. The following off-hand remark from Whitehead caught my attention:
My wife is convinced that [Elizabeth] knows everything about Carney's criminal life, and is sort of giving him a pass. And I'm not sure if that's true. I have to have to figure out exactly what she knows and when she knows it and how she feels about it.
I was quite taken by this, although not simply due to its effect on the story it self. As in, it immediately conjured up a charming picture of Whitehead's domestic arrangements: not only does Whitehead's wife feel free to disagree with what one of Whitehead's 'own' characters knows or believes, but that Colson has no problem whatsoever sharing that disagreement with the public at large. (It feels somehow natural that Whitehead's wife believes her counterpart knows more than she lets on, whilst Whitehead himself imbues the protagonist's wife with a kind of neo-Victorian innocence.) I'm minded to agree with Whitehead's partner myself, if only due to the passages where Elizabeth is studiously ignoring Carney's otherwise unexplained freak-outs. But all of these meta-thoughts simply underline just how emancipatory the Death of the Author can be. This product of academic literary criticism (the term was coined by Roland Barthes' 1967 essay of the same name) holds that the original author's intentions, ideas or biographical background carry no especial weight in determining how others should interpret their work. It is usually understood as meaning that a writer's own views are no more valid or 'correct' than the views held by someone else. (As an aside, I've found that most readers who encounter this concept for the first time have been reading books in this way since they were young. But the opposite is invariably true with cinephiles, who often have a bizarre obsession with researching or deciphering the 'true' interpretation of a film.) And with all that in mind, can you think of a more wry example of how freeing (and fun) nature of the Death of the Author than an author's own partner dissenting with their (Pulitzer Prize-winning) husband on the position of a lynchpin character?
The 1964 Harlem riot began after James Powell, a 15-year-old African American, was shot and killed by Thomas Gilligan, an NYPD police officer in front of 10s of witnesses. Gilligan was subsequently cleared by a grand jury.
As it turns out, the reviews for Harlem Shuffle have been almost universally positive, and after reading it in the two days after its release, I would certainly agree it is an above-average book. But it didn't quite take hold of me in the way that The Underground Railroad or The Nickel Boys did, especially the later chapters of The Nickel Boys that were set in contemporary New York and could thus make some (admittedly fairly explicit) connections from the 1960s to the present day that kind of connection is not there in Harlem Shuffle, or at least I did not pick up on it during my reading. I can see why one might take exception to that, though. For instance, it is certainly true that the week-long Harlem Riot forms a significant part of the plot, and some events in particular are entirely contingent on the ramifications of this momentous event. But it's difficult to argue the riot's impact are truly integral to the story, so not only is this uprising against police brutality almost regarded as a background event, any contemporary allusion to the murder of George Floyd is subsequently watered down. It's nowhere near the historical rubbernecking of Forrest Gump (1994), of course, but that's not a battle you should ever be fighting. Indeed, whilst a certain smoothness of affect is to be priced into the Whitehead reading experience, my initial overall reaction to Harlem Shuffle was fairly flat, despite all the action and intrigue on the page. The book perhaps belies its origins as a work conceived during quarantine after all, the book is essentially comprised of three loosely connected novellas, almost as if the unreality and mental turbulence of lockdown prevented the author from performing the psychological 'deep work' of producing a novel-length text with his usual depth of craft. A few other elements chimed with this being a 'lockdown novel' as well, particularly the book's preoccupation with the sheer physicality of the city compared to the usual complex interplay between its architecture and its inhabitants. This felt like it had been directly absorbed into the book from the author walking around his deserted city, and thus being able to take in details for the first time:
The doorways were entrances into different cities no, different entrances into one vast, secret city. Ever close, adjacent to all you know, just underneath. If you know where to look.
And I can't fail to mention that you can almost touch Whitehead's sublimated hunger to eat out again as well:
Stickups were chops they cook fast and hot, you re in and out. A stakeout was ribs fire down low, slow, taking your time. [ ] Sometimes when Carney jumped into the Hudson when he was a kid, some of that stuff got into his mouth. The Big Apple Diner served it up and called it coffee.
More seriously, however, the relatively thin personalities of minor characters then reminded me of the simulacrum of Zoom-based relationships, and the essentially unsatisfactory endings to the novellas felt reminiscent of lockdown pseudo-events that simply fizzle out without a bang. One of the stories ties up loose ends with: 'These things were usually enough to terminate a mob war, and they appeared to end the hostilities in this case as well.' They did? Well, okay, I guess.
The corner of 125th Street and Morningside Avenue in 2019, the purported location of Carney's fictional furniture store. Signage plays a prominent role in Harlem Shuffle, possibly due to the author's quarantine walks.
Still, it would be unfair to characterise myself as 'disappointed' with the novel, and none of this piece should be taken as really deep criticism. The book certainly was entertaining enough, and pretty funny in places as well:
Carney didn t have an etiquette book in front of him, but he was sure it was bad manners to sit on a man s safe. [ ] The manager of the laundromat was a scrawny man in a saggy undershirt painted with sweat stains. Launderer, heal thyself.
Yet I can't shake the feeling that every book you write is a book that you don't, and so we might need to hold out a little longer for Whitehead's 'George Floyd novel'. (Although it is for others to say how much of this sentiment is the expectations of a White Reader for The Black Author to ventriloquise the pain of 'their' community.) Some room for personal critique is surely permitted. I dearly missed the junk food energy of the dry and acerbic observations that run through Whitehead's previous work. At one point he had a good line on the model tokenisation that lurks behind 'The First Negro to...' labels, but the callbacks to this idea ceased without any payoff. Similar things happened with the not-so-subtle critiques of the American Dream:
Entrepreneur? Pepper said the last part like manure. That s just a hustler who pays taxes. [ ] One thing I ve learned in my job is that life is cheap, and when things start getting expensive, it gets cheaper still.
Ultimately, though, I think I just wanted more. I wanted a deeper exploration of how the real power in New York is not wielded by individual street hoodlums or even the cops but in the form of real estate, essentially serving as a synecdoche for Capital as a whole. (A recent take of this can be felt in Jed Rothstein's 2021 documentary, WeWork: Or the Making and Breaking of a $47 Billion Unicorn and it is perhaps pertinent to remember that the US President at the time this novel was written was affecting to be a real estate tycoon.). Indeed, just like the concluding scenes of J. J. Connolly's Layer Cake, although you can certainly pull off a cool heist against the Man, power ultimately resides in those who control the means of production... and a homespun furniture salesman on the corner of 125 & Morningside just ain't that. There are some nods to kind of analysis in the conclusion of the final story ('Their heist unwound as if it had never happened, and Van Wyck kept throwing up buildings.'), but, again, I would have simply liked more. And when I attempted then file this book away into the broader media landscape, given the current cultural visibility of 1960s pop culture (e.g. One Night in Miami (2020), Judas and the Black Messiah (2021), Summer of Soul (2021), etc.), Harlem Shuffle also seemed like a missed opportunity to critically analyse our (highly-qualified) longing for the civil rights era. I can certainly understand why we might look fondly on the cultural products from a period when politics was less alienated, when society was less atomised, and when it was still possible to imagine meaningful change, but in this dimension at least, Harlem Shuffle seems to merely contribute to this nostalgic escapism.

7 February 2021

Chris Lamb: Favourite books of 2020

I won't reveal precisely how many books I read in 2020, but it was definitely an improvement on 74 in 2019, 53 in 2018 and 50 in 2017. But not only did I read more in a quantitative sense, the quality seemed higher as well. There were certainly fewer disappointments: given its cultural resonance, I was nonplussed by Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch and whilst Ian Fleming's The Man with the Golden Gun was a little thin (again, given the obvious influence of the Bond franchise) the booked lacked 'thinness' in a way that made it interesting to critique. The weakest novel I read this year was probably J. M. Berger's Optimal, but even this hybrid of Ready Player One late-period Black Mirror wasn't that cringeworthy, all things considered. Alas, graphic novels continue to not quite be my thing, I'm afraid. I perhaps experienced more disappointments in the non-fiction section. Paul Bloom's Against Empathy was frustrating, particularly in that it expended unnecessary energy battling its misleading title and accepted terminology, and it could so easily have been an 20-minute video essay instead). (Elsewhere in the social sciences, David and Goliath will likely be the last Malcolm Gladwell book I voluntarily read.) After so many positive citations, I was also more than a little underwhelmed by Shoshana Zuboff's The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, and after Ryan Holiday's many engaging reboots of Stoic philosophy, his Conspiracy (on Peter Thiel and Hulk Hogan taking on Gawker) was slightly wide of the mark for me. Anyway, here follows a selection of my favourites from 2020, in no particular order:

Fiction Wolf Hall & Bring Up the Bodies & The Mirror and the Light Hilary Mantel During the early weeks of 2020, I re-read the first two parts of Hilary Mantel's Thomas Cromwell trilogy in time for the March release of The Mirror and the Light. I had actually spent the last few years eagerly following any news of the final instalment, feigning outrage whenever Mantel appeared to be spending time on other projects. Wolf Hall turned out to be an even better book than I remembered, and when The Mirror and the Light finally landed at midnight on 5th March, I began in earnest the next morning. Note that date carefully; this was early 2020, and the book swiftly became something of a heavy-handed allegory about the world at the time. That is to say and without claiming that I am Monsieur Cromuel in any meaningful sense it was an uneasy experience to be reading about a man whose confident grasp on his world, friends and life was slipping beyond his control, and at least in Cromwell's case, was heading inexorably towards its denouement. The final instalment in Mantel's trilogy is not perfect, and despite my love of her writing I would concur with the judges who decided against awarding her a third Booker Prize. For instance, there is something of the longueur that readers dislike in the second novel, although this might not be entirely Mantel's fault after all, the rise of the "ugly" Anne of Cleves and laborious trade negotiations for an uninspiring mineral (this is no Herbertian 'spice') will never match the court intrigues of Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour and that man for all seasons, Thomas More. Still, I am already looking forward to returning to the verbal sparring between King Henry and Cromwell when I read the entire trilogy once again, tentatively planned for 2022.

The Fault in Our Stars John Green I came across John Green's The Fault in Our Stars via a fantastic video by Lindsay Ellis discussing Roland Barthes famous 1967 essay on authorial intent. However, I might have eventually come across The Fault in Our Stars regardless, not because of Green's status as an internet celebrity of sorts but because I'm a complete sucker for this kind of emotionally-manipulative bildungsroman, likely due to reading Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials a few too many times in my teens. Although its title is taken from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, The Fault in Our Stars is actually more Romeo & Juliet. Hazel, a 16-year-old cancer patient falls in love with Gus, an equally ill teen from her cancer support group. Hazel and Gus share the same acerbic (and distinctly unteenage) wit and a love of books, centred around Hazel's obsession of An Imperial Affliction, a novel by the meta-fictional author Peter Van Houten. Through a kind of American version of Jim'll Fix It, Gus and Hazel go and visit Van Houten in Amsterdam. I'm afraid it's even cheesier than I'm describing it. Yet just as there is a time and a place for Michelin stars and Haribo Starmix, there's surely a place for this kind of well-constructed but altogether maudlin literature. One test for emotionally manipulative works like this is how well it can mask its internal contradictions while Green's story focuses on the universalities of love, fate and the shortness of life (as do almost all of his works, it seems), The Fault in Our Stars manages to hide, for example, that this is an exceedingly favourable treatment of terminal illness that is only possible for the better off. The 2014 film adaptation does somewhat worse in peddling this fantasy (and has a much weaker treatment of the relationship between the teens' parents too, an underappreciated subtlety of the book). The novel, however, is pretty slick stuff, and it is difficult to fault it for what it is. For some comparison, I later read Green's Looking for Alaska and Paper Towns which, as I mention, tug at many of the same strings, but they don't come together nearly as well as The Fault in Our Stars. James Joyce claimed that "sentimentality is unearned emotion", and in this respect, The Fault in Our Stars really does earn it.

The Plague Albert Camus P. D. James' The Children of Men, George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, Arthur Koestler's Darkness at Noon ... dystopian fiction was already a theme of my reading in 2020, so given world events it was an inevitability that I would end up with Camus's novel about a plague that swept through the Algerian city of Oran. Is The Plague an allegory about the Nazi occupation of France during World War Two? Where are all the female characters? Where are the Arab ones? Since its original publication in 1947, there's been so much written about The Plague that it's hard to say anything new today. Nevertheless, I was taken aback by how well it captured so much of the nuance of 2020. Whilst we were saying just how 'unprecedented' these times were, it was eerie how a novel written in the 1940s could accurately how many of us were feeling well over seventy years on later: the attitudes of the people; the confident declarations from the institutions; the misaligned conversations that led to accidental misunderstandings. The disconnected lovers. The only thing that perhaps did not work for me in The Plague was the 'character' of the church. Although I could appreciate most of the allusion and metaphor, it was difficult for me to relate to the significance of Father Paneloux, particularly regarding his change of view on the doctrinal implications of the virus, and spoiler alert that he finally died of a "doubtful case" of the disease, beyond the idea that Paneloux's beliefs are in themselves "doubtful". Answers on a postcard, perhaps. The Plague even seemed to predict how we, at least speaking of the UK, would react when the waves of the virus waxed and waned as well:
The disease stiffened and carried off three or four patients who were expected to recover. These were the unfortunates of the plague, those whom it killed when hope was high
It somehow captured the nostalgic yearning for high-definition videos of cities and public transport; one character even visits the completely deserted railway station in Oman simply to read the timetables on the wall.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy John le Carr There's absolutely none of the Mad Men glamour of James Bond in John le Carr 's icy world of Cold War spies:
Small, podgy, and at best middle-aged, Smiley was by appearance one of London's meek who do not inherit the earth. His legs were short, his gait anything but agile, his dress costly, ill-fitting, and extremely wet.
Almost a direct rebuttal to Ian Fleming's 007, Tinker, Tailor has broken-down cars, bad clothes, women with their own internal and external lives (!), pathetically primitive gadgets, and (contra Mad Men) hangovers that significantly longer than ten minutes. In fact, the main aspect that the mostly excellent 2011 film adaption doesn't really capture is the smoggy and run-down nature of 1970s London this is not your proto-Cool Britannia of Austin Powers or GTA:1969, the city is truly 'gritty' in the sense there is a thin film of dirt and grime on every surface imaginable. Another angle that the film cannot capture well is just how purposefully the novel does not mention the United States. Despite the US obviously being the dominant power, the British vacillate between pretending it doesn't exist or implying its irrelevance to the matter at hand. This is no mistake on Le Carr 's part, as careful readers are rewarded by finding this denial of US hegemony in metaphor throughout --pace Ian Fleming, there is no obvious Felix Leiter to loudly throw money at the problem or a Sheriff Pepper to serve as cartoon racist for the Brits to feel superior about. By contrast, I recall that a clever allusion to "dusty teabags" is subtly mirrored a few paragraphs later with a reference to the installation of a coffee machine in the office, likely symbolic of the omnipresent and unavoidable influence of America. (The officer class convince themselves that coffee is a European import.) Indeed, Le Carr communicates a feeling of being surrounded on all sides by the peeling wallpaper of Empire. Oftentimes, the writing style matches the graceless and inelegance of the world it depicts. The sentences are dense and you find your brain performing a fair amount of mid-flight sentence reconstruction, reparsing clauses, commas and conjunctions to interpret Le Carr 's intended meaning. In fact, in his eulogy-cum-analysis of Le Carr 's writing style, William Boyd, himself a ventrioquilist of Ian Fleming, named this intentional technique 'staccato'. Like the musical term, I suspect the effect of this literary staccato is as much about the impact it makes on a sentence as the imperceptible space it generates after it. Lastly, the large cast in this sprawling novel is completely believable, all the way from the Russian spymaster Karla to minor schoolboy Roach the latter possibly a stand-in for Le Carr himself. I got through the 500-odd pages in just a few days, somehow managing to hold the almost-absurdly complicated plot in my head. This is one of those classic books of the genre that made me wonder why I had not got around to it before.

The Nickel Boys Colson Whitehead According to the judges who awarded it the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, The Nickel Boys is "a devastating exploration of abuse at a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida" that serves as a "powerful tale of human perseverance, dignity and redemption". But whilst there is plenty of this perseverance and dignity on display, I found little redemption in this deeply cynical novel. It could almost be read as a follow-up book to Whitehead's popular The Underground Railroad, which itself won the Pulitzer Prize in 2017. Indeed, each book focuses on a young protagonist who might be euphemistically referred to as 'downtrodden'. But The Nickel Boys is not only far darker in tone, it feels much closer and more connected to us today. Perhaps this is unsurprising, given that it is based on the story of the Dozier School in northern Florida which operated for over a century before its long history of institutional abuse and racism was exposed a 2012 investigation. Nevertheless, if you liked the social commentary in The Underground Railroad, then there is much more of that in The Nickel Boys:
Perhaps his life might have veered elsewhere if the US government had opened the country to colored advancement like they opened the army. But it was one thing to allow someone to kill for you and another to let him live next door.
Sardonic aper us of this kind are pretty relentless throughout the book, but it never tips its hand too far into on nihilism, especially when some of the visual metaphors are often first-rate: "An American flag sighed on a pole" is one I can easily recall from memory. In general though, The Nickel Boys is not only more world-weary in tenor than his previous novel, the United States it describes seems almost too beaten down to have the energy conjure up the Swiftian magical realism that prevented The Underground Railroad from being overly lachrymose. Indeed, even we Whitehead transports us a present-day New York City, we can't indulge in another kind of fantasy, the one where America has solved its problems:
The Daily News review described the [Manhattan restaurant] as nouveau Southern, "down-home plates with a twist." What was the twist that it was soul food made by white people?
It might be overly reductionist to connect Whitehead's tonal downshift with the racial justice movements of the past few years, but whatever the reason, we've ended up with a hard-hitting, crushing and frankly excellent book.

True Grit & No Country for Old Men Charles Portis & Cormac McCarthy It's one of the most tedious cliches to claim the book is better than the film, but these two books are of such high quality that even the Coen Brothers at their best cannot transcend them. I'm grouping these books together here though, not because their respective adaptations will exemplify some of the best cinema of the 21st century, but because of their superb treatment of language. Take the use of dialogue. Cormac McCarthy famously does not use any punctuation "I believe in periods, in capitals, in the occasional comma, and that's it" but the conversations in No Country for Old Men together feel familiar and commonplace, despite being relayed through this unconventional technique. In lesser hands, McCarthy's written-out Texan drawl would be the novelistic equivalent of white rap or Jar Jar Binks, but not only is the effect entirely gripping, it helps you to believe you are physically present in the many intimate and domestic conversations that hold this book together. Perhaps the cinematic familiarity helps, as you can almost hear Tommy Lee Jones' voice as Sheriff Bell from the opening page to the last. Charles Portis' True Grit excels in its dialogue too, but in this book it is not so much in how it flows (although that is delightful in its own way) but in how forthright and sardonic Maddie Ross is:
"Earlier tonight I gave some thought to stealing a kiss from you, though you are very young, and sick and unattractive to boot, but now I am of a mind to give you five or six good licks with my belt." "One would be as unpleasant as the other."
Perhaps this should be unsurprising. Maddie, a fourteen-year-old girl from Yell County, Arkansas, can barely fire her father's heavy pistol, so she can only has words to wield as her weapon. Anyway, it's not just me who treasures this book. In her encomium that presages most modern editions, Donna Tartt of The Secret History fame traces the novels origins through Huckleberry Finn, praising its elegance and economy: "The plot of True Grit is uncomplicated and as pure in its way as one of the Canterbury Tales". I've read any Chaucer, but I am inclined to agree. Tartt also recalls that True Grit vanished almost entirely from the public eye after the release of John Wayne's flimsy cinematic vehicle in 1969 this earlier film was, Tartt believes, "good enough, but doesn't do the book justice". As it happens, reading a book with its big screen adaptation as a chaser has been a minor theme of my 2020, including P. D. James' The Children of Men, Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, Patricia Highsmith's Strangers on a Train, James Ellroy's The Black Dahlia, John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, John le Carr 's Tinker, Tailor Soldier, Spy and even a staged production of Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol streamed from The Old Vic. For an autodidact with no academic background in literature or cinema, I've been finding this an effective and enjoyable means of getting closer to these fine books and films it is precisely where they deviate (or perhaps where they are deficient) that offers a means by which one can see how they were constructed. I've also found that adaptations can also tell you a lot about the culture in which they were made: take the 'straightwashing' in the film version of Strangers on a Train (1951) compared to the original novel, for example. It is certainly true that adaptions rarely (as Tartt put it) "do the book justice", but she might be also right to alight on a legal metaphor, for as the saying goes, to judge a movie in comparison to the book is to do both a disservice.

The Glass Hotel Emily St. John Mandel In The Glass Hotel, Mandel somehow pulls off the impossible; writing a loose roman- -clef on Bernie Madoff, a Ponzi scheme and the ephemeral nature of finance capital that is tranquil and shimmeringly beautiful. Indeed, don't get the wrong idea about the subject matter; this is no over over-caffeinated The Big Short, as The Glass Hotel is less about a Madoff or coked-up financebros but the fragile unreality of the late 2010s, a time which was, as we indeed discovered in 2020, one event away from almost shattering completely. Mandel's prose has that translucent, phantom quality to it where the chapters slip through your fingers when you try to grasp at them, and the plot is like a ghost ship that that slips silently, like the Mary Celeste, onto the Canadian water next to which the eponymous 'Glass Hotel' resides. Indeed, not unlike The Overlook Hotel, the novel so overflows with symbolism so that even the title needs to evoke the idea of impermanence permanently living in a hotel might serve as a house, but it won't provide a home. It's risky to generalise about such things post-2016, but the whole story sits in that the infinitesimally small distance between perception and reality, a self-constructed culture that is not so much 'post truth' but between them. There's something to consider in almost every character too. Take the stand-in for Bernie Madoff: no caricature of Wall Street out of a 1920s political cartoon or Brechtian satire, Jonathan Alkaitis has none of the oleaginous sleaze of a Dominic Strauss-Kahn, the cold sociopathy of a Marcus Halberstam nor the well-exercised sinuses of, say, Jordan Belford. Alkaitis is dare I say it? eminently likeable, and the book is all the better for it. Even the C-level characters have something to say: Enrico, trivially escaping from the regulators (who are pathetically late to the fraud without Mandel ever telling us explicitly), is daydreaming about the girlfriend he abandoned in New York: "He wished he'd realised he loved her before he left". What was in his previous life that prevented him from doing so? Perhaps he was never in love at all, or is love itself just as transient as the imaginary money in all those bank accounts? Maybe he fell in love just as he crossed safely into Mexico? When, precisely, do we fall in love anyway? I went on to read Mandel's Last Night in Montreal, an early work where you can feel her reaching for that other-worldly quality that she so masterfully achieves in The Glass Hotel. Her f ted Station Eleven is on my must-read list for 2021. "What is truth?" asked Pontius Pilate. Not even Mandel cannot give us the answer, but this will certainly do for now.

Running the Light Sam Tallent Although it trades in all of the clich s and stereotypes of the stand-up comedian (the triumvirate of drink, drugs and divorce), Sam Tallent's debut novel depicts an extremely convincing fictional account of a touring road comic. The comedian Doug Stanhope (who himself released a fairly decent No Encore for the Donkey memoir in 2020) hyped Sam's book relentlessly on his podcast during lockdown... and justifiably so. I ripped through Running the Light in a few short hours, the only disappointment being that I can't seem to find videos online of Sam that come anywhere close to match up to his writing style. If you liked the rollercoaster energy of Paul Beatty's The Sellout, the cynicism of George Carlin and the car-crash invertibility of final season Breaking Bad, check this great book out.

Non-fiction Inside Story Martin Amis This was my first introduction to Martin Amis's work after hearing that his "novelised autobiography" contained a fair amount about Christopher Hitchens, an author with whom I had a one of those rather clich d parasocial relationship with in the early days of YouTube. (Hey, it could have been much worse.) Amis calls his book a "novelised autobiography", and just as much has been made of its quasi-fictional nature as the many diversions into didactic writing advice that betwixt each chapter: "Not content with being a novel, this book also wants to tell you how to write novels", complained Tim Adams in The Guardian. I suspect that reviewers who grew up with Martin since his debut book in 1973 rolled their eyes at yet another demonstration of his manifest cleverness, but as my first exposure to Amis's gift of observation, I confess that I was thought it was actually kinda clever. Try, for example, "it remains a maddening truth that both sexual success and sexual failure are steeply self-perpetuating" or "a hospital gym is a contradiction like a young Conservative", etc. Then again, perhaps I was experiencing a form of nostalgia for a pre-Gamergate YouTube, when everything in the world was a lot simpler... or at least things could be solved by articulate gentlemen who honed their art of rhetoric at the Oxford Union. I went on to read Martin's first novel, The Rachel Papers (is it 'arrogance' if you are, indeed, that confident?), as well as his 1997 Night Train. I plan to read more of him in the future.

The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters: Volume 1 & Volume 2 & Volume 3 & Volume 4 George Orwell These deceptively bulky four volumes contain all of George Orwell's essays, reviews and correspondence, from his teenage letters sent to local newspapers to notes to his literary executor on his deathbed in 1950. Reading this was part of a larger, multi-year project of mine to cover the entirety of his output. By including this here, however, I'm not recommending that you read everything that came out of Orwell's typewriter. The letters to friends and publishers will only be interesting to biographers or hardcore fans (although I would recommend Dorian Lynskey's The Ministry of Truth: A Biography of George Orwell's 1984 first). Furthermore, many of his book reviews will be of little interest today. Still, some insights can be gleaned; if there is any inconsistency in this huge corpus is that his best work is almost 'too' good and too impactful, making his merely-average writing appear like hackwork. There are some gems that don't make the usual essay collections too, and some of Orwell's most astute social commentary came out of series of articles he wrote for the left-leaning newspaper Tribune, related in many ways to the US Jacobin. You can also see some of his most famous ideas start to take shape years if not decades before they appear in his novels in these prototype blog posts. I also read Dennis Glover's novelised account of the writing of Nineteen-Eighty Four called The Last Man in Europe, and I plan to re-read some of Orwell's earlier novels during 2021 too, including A Clergyman's Daughter and his 'antebellum' Coming Up for Air that he wrote just before the Second World War; his most under-rated novel in my estimation. As it happens, and with the exception of the US and Spain, copyright in the works published in his lifetime ends on 1st January 2021. Make of that what you will.

Capitalist Realism & Chavs: The Demonisation of the Working Class Mark Fisher & Owen Jones These two books are not natural companions to one another and there is likely much that Jones and Fisher would vehemently disagree on, but I am pairing these books together here because they represent the best of the 'political' books I read in 2020. Mark Fisher was a dedicated leftist whose first book, Capitalist Realism, marked an important contribution to political philosophy in the UK. However, since his suicide in early 2017, the currency of his writing has markedly risen, and Fisher is now frequently referenced due to his belief that the prevalence of mental health conditions in modern life is a side-effect of various material conditions, rather than a natural or unalterable fact "like weather". (Of course, our 'weather' is being increasingly determined by a combination of politics, economics and petrochemistry than pure randomness.) Still, Fisher wrote on all manner of topics, from the 2012 London Olympics and "weird and eerie" electronic music that yearns for a lost future that will never arrive, possibly prefiguring or influencing the Fallout video game series. Saying that, I suspect Fisher will resonate better with a UK audience more than one across the Atlantic, not necessarily because he was minded to write about the parochial politics and culture of Britain, but because his writing often carries some exasperation at the suppression of class in favour of identity-oriented politics, a viewpoint not entirely prevalent in the United States outside of, say, Tour F. Reed or the late Michael Brooks. (Indeed, Fisher is likely best known in the US as the author of his controversial 2013 essay, Exiting the Vampire Castle, but that does not figure greatly in this book). Regardless, Capitalist Realism is an insightful, damning and deeply unoptimistic book, best enjoyed in the warm sunshine I found it an ironic compliment that I had quoted so many paragraphs that my Kindle's copy protection routines prevented me from clipping any further. Owen Jones needs no introduction to anyone who regularly reads a British newspaper, especially since 2015 where he unofficially served as a proxy and punching bag for expressing frustrations with the then-Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn. However, as the subtitle of Jones' 2012 book suggests, Chavs attempts to reveal the "demonisation of the working class" in post-financial crisis Britain. Indeed, the timing of the book is central to Jones' analysis, specifically that the stereotype of the "chav" is used by government and the media as a convenient figleaf to avoid meaningful engagement with economic and social problems on an austerity ridden island. (I'm not quite sure what the US equivalent to 'chav' might be. Perhaps Florida Man without the implications of mental health.) Anyway, Jones certainly has a point. From Vicky Pollard to the attacks on Jade Goody, there is an ignorance and prejudice at the heart of the 'chav' backlash, and that would be bad enough even if it was not being co-opted or criminalised for ideological ends. Elsewhere in political science, I also caught Michael Brooks' Against the Web and David Graeber's Bullshit Jobs, although they are not quite methodical enough to recommend here. However, Graeber's award-winning Debt: The First 5000 Years will be read in 2021. Matt Taibbi's Hate Inc: Why Today's Media Makes Us Despise One Another is worth a brief mention here though, but its sprawling nature felt very much like I was reading a set of Substack articles loosely edited together. And, indeed, I was.

The Golden Thread: The Story of Writing Ewan Clayton A recommendation from a dear friend, Ewan Clayton's The Golden Thread is a journey through the long history of the writing from the Dawn of Man to present day. Whether you are a linguist, a graphic designer, a visual artist, a typographer, an archaeologist or 'just' a reader, there is probably something in here for you. I was already dipping my quill into calligraphy this year so I suspect I would have liked this book in any case, but highlights would definitely include the changing role of writing due to the influence of textual forms in the workplace as well as digression on ergonomic desks employed by monks and scribes in the Middle Ages. A lot of books by otherwise-sensible authors overstretch themselves when they write about computers or other technology from the Information Age, at best resulting in bizarre non-sequiturs and dangerously Panglossian viewpoints at worst. But Clayton surprised me by writing extremely cogently and accurate on the role of text in this new and unpredictable era. After finishing it I realised why for a number of years, Clayton was a consultant for the legendary Xerox PARC where he worked in a group focusing on documents and contemporary communications whilst his colleagues were busy inventing the graphical user interface, laser printing, text editors and the computer mouse.

New Dark Age & Radical Technologies: The Design of Everyday Life James Bridle & Adam Greenfield I struggled to describe these two books to friends, so I doubt I will suddenly do a better job here. Allow me to quote from Will Self's review of James Bridle's New Dark Age in the Guardian:
We're accustomed to worrying about AI systems being built that will either "go rogue" and attack us, or succeed us in a bizarre evolution of, um, evolution what we didn't reckon on is the sheer inscrutability of these manufactured minds. And minds is not a misnomer. How else should we think about the neural network Google has built so its translator can model the interrelation of all words in all languages, in a kind of three-dimensional "semantic space"?
New Dark Age also turns its attention to the weird, algorithmically-derived products offered for sale on Amazon as well as the disturbing and abusive videos that are automatically uploaded by bots to YouTube. It should, by rights, be a mess of disparate ideas and concerns, but Bridle has a flair for introducing topics which reveals he comes to computer science from another discipline altogether; indeed, on a four-part series he made for Radio 4, he's primarily referred to as "an artist". Whilst New Dark Age has rather abstract section topics, Adam Greenfield's Radical Technologies is a rather different book altogether. Each chapter dissects one of the so-called 'radical' technologies that condition the choices available to us, asking how do they work, what challenges do they present to us and who ultimately benefits from their adoption. Greenfield takes his scalpel to smartphones, machine learning, cryptocurrencies, artificial intelligence, etc., and I don't think it would be unfair to say that starts and ends with a cynical point of view. He is no reactionary Luddite, though, and this is both informed and extremely well-explained, and it also lacks the lazy, affected and Private Eye-like cynicism of, say, Attack of the 50 Foot Blockchain. The books aren't a natural pair, for Bridle's writing contains quite a bit of air in places, ironically mimics the very 'clouds' he inveighs against. Greenfield's book, by contrast, as little air and much lower pH value. Still, it was more than refreshing to read two technology books that do not limit themselves to platitudinal booleans, be those dangerously naive (e.g. Kevin Kelly's The Inevitable) or relentlessly nihilistic (Shoshana Zuboff's The Age of Surveillance Capitalism). Sure, they are both anti-technology screeds, but they tend to make arguments about systems of power rather than specific companies and avoid being too anti-'Big Tech' through a narrower, Silicon Valley obsessed lens for that (dipping into some other 2020 reading of mine) I might suggest Wendy Liu's Abolish Silicon Valley or Scott Galloway's The Four. Still, both books are superlatively written. In fact, Adam Greenfield has some of the best non-fiction writing around, both in terms of how he can explain complicated concepts (particularly the smart contract mechanism of the Ethereum cryptocurrency) as well as in the extremely finely-crafted sentences I often felt that the writing style almost had no need to be that poetic, and I particularly enjoyed his fictional scenarios at the end of the book.

The Algebra of Happiness & Indistractable: How to Control Your Attention and Choose Your Life Scott Galloway & Nir Eyal A cocktail of insight, informality and abrasiveness makes NYU Professor Scott Galloway uncannily appealing to guys around my age. Although Galloway definitely has his own wisdom and experience, similar to Joe Rogan I suspect that a crucial part of Galloway's appeal is that you feel you are learning right alongside him. Thankfully, 'Prof G' is far less err problematic than Rogan (Galloway is more of a well-meaning, spirited centrist), although he, too, has some pretty awful takes at time. This is a shame, because removed from the whirlwind of social media he can be really quite considered, such as in this long-form interview with Stephanie Ruhle. In fact, it is this kind of sentiment that he captured in his 2019 Algebra of Happiness. When I look over my highlighted sections, it's clear that it's rather schmaltzy out of context ("Things you hate become just inconveniences in the presence of people you love..."), but his one-two punch of cynicism and saccharine ("Ask somebody who purchased a home in 2007 if their 'American Dream' came true...") is weirdly effective, especially when he uses his own family experiences as part of his story:
A better proxy for your life isn't your first home, but your last. Where you draw your last breath is more meaningful, as it's a reflection of your success and, more important, the number of people who care about your well-being. Your first house signals the meaningful your future and possibility. Your last home signals the profound the people who love you. Where you die, and who is around you at the end, is a strong signal of your success or failure in life.
Nir Eyal's Indistractable, however, is a totally different kind of 'self-help' book. The important background story is that Eyal was the author of the widely-read Hooked which turned into a secular Bible of so-called 'addictive design'. (If you've ever been cornered by a techbro wielding a Wikipedia-thin knowledge of B. F. Skinner's behaviourist psychology and how it can get you to click 'Like' more often, it ultimately came from Hooked.) However, Eyal's latest effort is actually an extended mea culpa for his previous sin and he offers both high and low-level palliative advice on how to avoid falling for the tricks he so studiously espoused before. I suppose we should be thankful to capitalism for selling both cause and cure. Speaking of markets, there appears to be a growing appetite for books in this 'anti-distraction' category, and whilst I cannot claim to have done an exhausting study of this nascent field, Indistractable argues its points well without relying on accurate-but-dry "studies show..." or, worse, Gladwellian gotchas. My main criticism, however, would be that Eyal doesn't acknowledge the limits of a self-help approach to this problem; it seems that many of the issues he outlines are an inescapable part of the alienation in modern Western society, and the only way one can really avoid distraction is to move up the income ladder or move out to a 500-acre ranch.

9 January 2016

Daniel Pocock: Comments about people with mental illness

A quote:
As the Buddha said 2500 years ago... we're all out of our fucking minds. (Albert Ellis)
There have been a few occasions over the last year where people suffering mental illnesses have been the subject of much discussion. In March 2015 there was the tragic loss of Germanwings flight 9525. It was discovered that the co-pilot, Andreas Lubitz, had been receiving treatment for mental illness. Under strict privacy laws, nobody at his employer, the airline, had received any information about the diagnosis or treatment. During the summer, the private mailing list for a large online community discussed the mental illness of a contributor to a project. Various people expressed opinions that appeared to be generalizations about all those with mental illness. Some people hinted the illness was a lie to avoid work while others speculated about options for treatment. Nobody involved mentioned having any medical expertise. It is ironic that on the one hand, we have the dramatic example of an aircraft crashing at the hands of somebody who is declared unfit to work but working anyway and on the other hand when somebody else couldn't do something, the diagnosis is being disputed by people who find it inconvenient or don't understand it. More recently, there has been openly public discussion about whether another developer may have had mental illness. Once again, there doesn't appear to be any evidence from people with any medical expertise or documentation whatsoever. Some of the comments appear to be in the context of a grudge or justifying some other opinion. What's worse, some comments appear to suggest that mental illness can be blamed for anything else that goes wrong in somebody's life. If somebody is shot and bleeds to death, do you say low blood pressure killed him or do you just say he was shot? Likewise, if somebody is subject to some kind of bullying and abused, does this have no interaction with mental illness? In fact, Google reveals an enormous number of papers from experts in this field suggesting that mental illness can arise or be exacerbated by bad experiences. Although it may not have been clear at that point in time, when we look back at Alan Turing's death today, suicide was not a valid verdict and persecution was a factor. Statistics tell us that 1 in 4 people experience a mental health problem in the UK each year. In the USA it is 26% of the adult population, each year. These may be long term conditions or they may be short term conditions. They may arise spontaneously or they may be arising from some kind of trauma, abuse or harassment in the home, workplace or some other context. For large online communities, these statistics imply it is inevitable that some participants will be suffering from mental illness and others will have spouses, parents or children suffering from such conditions. These people will be acutely aware of the comments being made publicly about other people in the community. Social interaction also relates to the experience of mental illness, people who are supported by their community and society are more likely to recover while those who feel they are not understood or discriminated against may feel more isolated, compounding their condition. As a developer, I wouldn't really like the idea of doctors meddling with my code, so why is it that some people in the IT and business community are so happy to meddle around in the domain of doctors, giving such strong opinions about something they have no expertise in? Despite the tragic loss of life in Germanwings 9525, observing some of these other discussions that have taken place reminds me why Germany and some other countries do have such strict privacy laws for people who seek medical treatment. (You can Follow or Tweet about this blog on Twitter)

7 March 2014

Russell Coker: Depression

Andrew Solomon gave an interesting TED talk about depression [1]. I ve had problems with depression at various times through my life, about 18 months ago I recognised it as depression after reading a list of depression symptoms on the Beyond Blue site. I think that they have changed their site recently they now have an interactive checklist for depression on their web site [2] (or maybe I just missed the interactive part last time). There is a strong correlation between Autism and depression, this is noted both in research and described on the web, Elspeth s article on Bluehackers is a good description of this [3]. Her experiences differ from mine in some ways, but it s within the common range of experiences you see described on Autism forums etc. Depression is getting more widely known, organisations such as Beyond Blue and Bluehackers are doing good work in spreading information to people who might be depressed and people who know them. The general advice is to see a psychologist, which is good advice for average people. Alexithymia and Choice of Psychologists One problem with such advice is that it doesn t apply so well to people with alexithymia (read the Wikipedia page) [4], that means most people on the Autism Spectrum. The Wikipedia page says psychosomatic illness or substance abuse is frequently exacerbated should these individuals enter psychotherapy . Based on people I know and accounts I ve read on the Internet I expect that anyone on the Autism Spectrum who sees a psychologist that doesn t specialise in Autism (which means most psychologists) will get a result that s about the opposite of what one might desire. In theory a psychologist could recognise someone as being possibly on the Autism Spectrum and refer them to an expert for assessment, but I haven t heard of that happening to an adult. I think that most people who have some degree of alexithymia will avoid psychologists, without ever seeing one you can just know that it s going to be unpleasant. So while you wouldn t want someone who has alexithymia to visit a random psychologist in practice that shouldn t happen too often as such people will be more likely to reject any advice about seeing a psychologist. My page of Autism self-diagnosis tests has a link to an Alexithymia test [5]. If you get a high score on that test (or if taking the test seems too unpleasant) then it s best to see a psychologist who specialises in Autism. Such psychologists are usually happy to work for people who don t quite meet the Autism diagnostic criteria, but they may strongly recommend an Autism assessment so that they can determine the best strategies for treatment. In terms of addressing such problems it seems that the best thing we can do is try and reduce the stigma associated with Autism. The vast majority of people on the Autism Spectrum have little in common with Rain Man. Many of the so-called Autism advocacy organisations make things worse by implying that everyone who is Autistic is unable to live an independent life which helps them in fundraising but doesn t help us.

1 July 2013

Russ Allbery: Review: Dark Lies the Island

Review: Dark Lies the Island, by Kevin Barry
Publisher: Greywolf
Copyright: 2012
Printing: 2013
ISBN: 1-55597-651-4
Format: ARC
Pages: 185
This is a literary short story collection by a mainstream Irish writer, rather far from my normal fare. It was the second book in a shipment of Powell's Indiespensable, which is generally (when there is one) a proof or Advanced Reading Copy of something relatively obscure. I'm not really the target audience, not being much of a short story aficionado, but the whole point of doing this Indiespensable experiment is to stretch my reading range. First off, as I would generally expect by mainstream fiction, the quality of the writing is excellent. One thing I particularly like about Barry is that he's refreshingly and unhesitatingly profane. His characters curse like I expect people to curse, some of them at the drop of a hat, and for me it gives a feel of solid realism to his dialogue. He's also very good with eye dialect, giving the impression of accents without making the text hard to read. Some of these stories I liked a great deal, rather more than I had expected. But if there was a general undermining flaw for me, it was that I prefer stories that go somewhere, that have a plot or lead up to a definite point. Some of Barry's do, but a lot of them seem more vignettes or just scenes, sketches of characters, that drift off without resolution. I can admire those as writing exercises, but for me they don't fill the desire I have when I sit down with a story. I'm not sure how useful these reviews will be, given that I don't have a lot of mainstream fiction background to compare them with, but here are some reactions, for whatever they're worth. "Across the Rooftops": This is one of those sketches, but it's one of the best of them. It's a single moment on the rooftops, an attempt to capture the moment of possibility around the first romantic overture. It's sadly quite conventional in gender roles (nervous man initiating, woman as relationship gatekeeper), but apart from that it's very well-written. This kind of thing is normally not to my taste, but Barry does such a great job capturing the sense of uncertainty and the sharp focus on detail that I couldn't help but like it. (7) "Wifey Redux": This is by far my favorite story of this book. I think it's both hilarious and brilliant, right from the starting line.
This is the story of a happy marriage but before you throw up and turn the page let me say that it will end with my face pressed hard into the cold metal of the Volvo's bonnet, my hands cuffed behind my back, and my rights droned into my ear this will occur in the car park of a big-box retail unit on the Naas Road in Dublin.
It's the story of a marriage and how it changes over time, but also the story of being a father and his baffled, flailing reactions to his daughter's sexual explorations. But that's not what makes the story. What makes the story is what leads up to the arrest at the end, which had me laughing out-loud in delight. Barry is great at writing a sort of devilish humor; I wish more of the collection was like this. (9) "Fjord of Killary": This is another one of the ones I enjoyed. It's about an author who buys a hotel (with a bar) on the fjord of Killary thinking that the local culture and contact along with the wild beauty would inspire his poetry. At the start of the story, he's thoroughly sick of both the climate and the people, and the collision between his idyllic dreams and the reality, as well as his acerbic first-person complaints, is quite entertaining. A huge storm and resulting flood provides the conflict and impetus for change, and a few moments of humor in the understated local reactions. I thought the closing epiphany was a bit too obvious and expected, and the ending didn't quite work for me, but it has some good moments. (7) "A Cruelty": Here's where the collection started losing me. This is still well-written and closely observed, but in the case of this story, I wish it weren't, since I found it extremely uncomfortable. The viewpoint character is vulnerable to an encounter of unalloyed nastiness. I'm sure that's the point, but, similar to how I avoid horror, it's the sort of story I'd rather not read. (3) "Beer Trip to Llandudno": This was my second-favorite story of the collection. It's about a group of men who take periodic beer-tasting trips and rate beers. They're just normal men, from a variety of backgrounds and professions, and I thought Barry did a great job capturing the sort of camaraderie that comes from long association with a hobby. That includes, here, the awkward limits on what one talks about and the tendency to use the hobby as a shield from anything that drifts into less certain territory. I thought the story suffered somewhat from not having much of a plot or conclusion, but that's also necessary from the setup. This group of people isn't actually going to solve problems, but will be there for each other in their own way. (8) "Ernestine and Kit": Another very dark story, although that's not quite as obvious at the start. As with "A Cruelty," it's well-written but disturbing and lacks any sort of positive resolution. Here, I think Barry went a bit far into portraying people who are a large part of the popular imagination but who are exceptionally rare in reality. It's the kind of story that, at least for me, plays badly with my brain's threat analysis: too memorable for the level of actual risk, and feeling like it was playing a bit too much with popular boogeymen. (4) "The Mainland Campaign": This one was just too subtle for me. Some of the summaries for this book hint at a meaning for the story that I didn't pick up at all on my first reading. On re-reading, I suspect that analysis is right, but even re-reading the story with that interpretation in mind (this is the sort of story where I'm not sure the average American would pick it up on first reading, but others might), I still don't understand exactly what happened. I think some mainstream writing, and some short stories, tends to err on the side of subtle. (4) "Wistful England": Another one that's way over on the sketch of a moment side of stories. Unlike "Across the Rooftops," it failed to make any impression on me whatsoever; I had to skim it just now to remind myself of any details at all, and by the time I edited this review for posting, I'd forgotten it again. I think it was aiming at capturing a mood, but the mopey viewpoint character didn't mean anything to me. (3) "Doctor Sot": This is another odd one, and I'm not quite sure what I think of it. Either it's another character sketch without much of a plot, or the plot was too subtle. The protagonist is a rather unlikable drunk who doubles as a small town's incompetent doctor. The story involves his encounter with a local sort of hippie encampment, which is moderately interesting even though I couldn't stand the man. Then it leads to an encounter that clearly meant something, but which was entirely lost on me. (4) "The Girls and the Dogs": And from an absence of plot back to the deeply disturbing. This story is about a moderately unlikable drug dealer who gets refuge from an extremely unlikable crazy person in a weird relationship with a woman and her sister. (As is sadly typical, polyamory only makes an appearance when the author wants to paint a scenario that's utterly fucked up and psychotic.) There's a pseudo-fantasy element here in that the characters talk about spells, but I think the only spell involved is authorial fiat to create a deeply broken and sick game that plays into a host of negative stereotypes. Despite myself, I did get drawn into the suspense of the story (Barry's undoubtedly a good writer), but it left me feeling dirty on several levels. (4) "White Hitachi": Finally, another story that I liked, although not as good as the ones earlier in the collection. This one follows a con man and two-bit thief as he gets his brother out of lockup and tries to resolve, or at least stay ahead of, various problems in his life. Again, no real ending, but I thought Barry did a good job at taking a snapshot of a life from a perspective that I don't read much in literature (along with all the sexism and racism that comes along with it). It sort of drifts off rather than ends (although the last sentence is a great bit of characterization), but I found it oddly enjoyable. (6) "Dark Lies the Island": I'm not sure what to make of this. It's another character sketch, a moment of deep psychological significance for a character, floating somewhat alone but described in detail. But the character is a girl struggling with cutting, from a male author whose other stories did not fill me with confidence in his handling of female characters. Barry makes this psychologically believable, but I'm a little nervous about trusting his portrayal of that mindset. It's also, again, just a bit too subtle; I had a hard time getting an emotional feel for how the events of the story connect. (5) "Berlin Arkonaplatz My Lesbian Summer": The final story of the collection is fairly typical of the problem I had with most of it. It seems reasonably well-written, I had a hard time connecting with the protagonist or understanding his motivations. It looks at a slice of life with which I have no familiarity at all (and is interesting for that reason), but I don't quite trust the story enough to submerge in it. Barry seems to write a lot of protagonists who seem aimless, befuddled, or just largely out of control, and I like a bit more agency in the primary character. Silvija is an interesting character, even shown from another's perspective, but the story is almost purely observational: showing her without comment, without obvious motive, and mostly without plot. It's strangely compelling, but not quite compelling enough that I'd actually seek it out. Which, really, is the whole book in a nutshell. (6) Rating: 6 out of 10

28 December 2012

Russ Allbery: Review: Perl Best Practices

Review: Perl Best Practices, by Damian Conway
Publisher: O'Reilly
Copyright: July 2005
Printing: April 2011
ISBN: 0-596-00173-8
Format: Trade paperback
Pages: 492
I had a rather bad first reaction to this book or, rather, the existence of this book. Some time ago, I started hearing about a new program named perlcritic that served as a lint program for Perl and decided to give it a try. I was taken aback by the flood of diagnostics, but even more taken aback by the fact that most of them were apparently explained only by a reference to a book that I didn't own. It struck me wrong in an open source project and gave me a negative reaction towards the book, which lingered for years. That was exacerbated by discovering that it recommended using use English in some circumstances, something that I consider to be a horrible idea. So, when a coworker recommended it and suggested I really should read it, I was dubious. I'm glad I gave it a chance, since it turns out that nearly all of my objections were based on misunderstandings or false information. (Well, except for the use English part, but more on that in a moment.) Perl Best Practices does provide a lot of advice, explaining that flood of diagnostics, but perlcritic also warns about the same thing repeatedly, inflating a handful of issues into a lot of messages. Most of the recommendations in Perl Best Practices were things I was doing already; most of the rest are entirely sensible. Also, perlcritic does come with complete explanations of its diagnostics once you know where they're hidden (the perldoc of Perl::Critic::Policy modules whose names you can get at by insisting perlcritic divulge them). And, even more delightfully, once I got past my objections, I discovered that Perl Best Practices is one of the best books on coding style that I've read. Coding style is a notoriously difficult subject, since nearly everyone is convinced their personal style is the best (or at least that they don't want to change). Conway acknowledges that up-front, and acknowledges that some things are just arbitrary and consistency with any rule set is better than following some specific rule set. He then spends surprisingly little time on the sorts of things that dominate most coding style discussions (indentation, spacing, commenting, etc.). Instead, this is primarily a book about how to write efficient and transparent Perl code, one that focuses much more on the content and structure of that code than on how it is indented. The best part is that there are no undefended rules here. Perl Best Practices contains 256 separate guidelines, some quite general ("Provide an optimal interface, rather than a minimal one") and some quite specific ("Pass constructor arguments as labeled values, using a hash reference"), but every one of them has a supporting argument and specific reasons behind it. Conway backs up every recommendation with code samples and practical scenarios showing the pluses and minuses of different approaches. This is a book unconcerned with being an authority; rather, it reads like optional advice from a good mentor, complete with insightful discussions on each point raised. You may come away from it disagreeing with Conway's specific recommendation (and I did, in several places), but you'll almost certainly be better-informed about the problem for having read it. Plus, this book is just fun to read. Admittedly, I love this sort of thing; I spend lots of time thinking about coding style in any language, and a lot more time refactoring coding style when working on my own projects to try to achieve clarity and simplicity. But even without sharing my love of the material, I think this book will be a delight for any practicing Perl programmer who hasn't yet read it. Conway clearly has a wealth of experience and years in the trenches of working with other people's Perl code. The examples he draws on are brief, comprehensible, and illuminating. He also gave me a tour of a variety of helper modules and libraries that I didn't know existed. List::Util is the most prominant example; this incredibly helpful supply of list manipulation functions that I've always half-known I wanted but never bothered to write is now part of Perl core (as of 5.7.3), so there's no reason to avoid it. You too can stop using grep when you actually mean first, or rewriting max in ad hoc ways. That does raise two of the rare flaws in this book, though. One is that I disagree (partially) with Conway's willingness to recommend non-core modules. He is a particular champion of the Readonly module over either normal file global variables or use constant, for very good reasons. But making Readonly a prerequisite for all other Perl code that one releases seems a bit annoying (speaking as someone who used to maintain local Perl installations). Maybe this isn't as big of a deal in these days of ubiquitous Linux distributions and willingness to use the CPAN shell, but I still dislike releasing code that depends on a half-dozen (or more) other CPAN modules for reasons of coding convenience and minor readability rather than core functionality. (His advocacy of Sub::Install raised similar objections.) The second flaw is not something Conway could have done anything about: this book is from 2005, and it's now 2012. Now, the Perl ecosystem is now quite mature, so that hampers the book much less than it would a corresponding book about Ruby or even Python. I also aim for compatibility with the oldest thing out there I know someone is still running, so I'm still hesitant to require anything newer than Perl 5.8. But still, this book was written seven years ago, and Perl is now at 5.14. In the meantime, we've seen core language features like given/when added, the addition of state variables, the need for substantial reworking of how Unicode I/O is handled, the addition of the new // operator, and the new package syntax, among many other things. The Perl taught here is a bit dated, and I would love to hear Conway's opinion about when (or if) to use say. Maybe someday we'll get a second edition. There are two other points that I do have to argue with. One is that Conway does advocate, in a limited way, use English. I could almost go along with his recommendation to use it only for those variables that one has to look up, except that in nearly every case there are other options and one can take the much better approach of simply not using those variables at all. But he then writes the remaining examples in the book using $EVAL_ERROR rather than $@, and I'm sorry, but no. One could not construct a more frustrating annoyance for an experienced Perl programmer than sending them on a futile hunt for where the global variable $EVAL_ERROR is defined. One can debate the merits of Larry Wall's original decision to use variables like $_, @_, $?, $!, and $?, but for better or ill this is Perl, and marginal readability gains for inexperienced programmers do not warrant confusing experienced programmers. This is particularly true when the use English variables are completely indistinguishable from normal global variables, and not infrequently look like a global variable that a programmer might choose. The second is more of an amusement that a real disagreement. Conway rightfully points out that Perl OO, and particularly the way that Perl stores object instance data, is awkward, and none of the commonly-used techniques are particularly satisfying. He then introduces a completely new way of doing instance data that, while having some advantages, has a very strange syntax and is utterly unlike how any OO code one finds in the wild is written. While the discussion of the problem that he's trying to solve is still interesting, I think the solutions he proposes will be more of a curiosity than a style that most programmers will adopt. But, those disagreements aside, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I found it so engrossing that I kept reading it straight through a long train ride rather than switching to fiction halfway, like I do with most programming books. I've since recommended it to several other coworkers, and we're in the process of revising our internal Perl coding style based heavily on it. It's the sort of book that I expect to re-read several times to refresh my memory of Conway's analysis. If you've been avoiding this one due to misconceptions like I had, or because you think it might be too dry, or even just because you're afraid it's outdated, I strongly recommend it. If you're worried about the price of a printed (or electronic) book on this topic and you do Perl programming as part of your job, see if your employer will buy you a copy as training. It's worth it. I've been writing Perl professionally for more than fifteen years, and I learned a ton from this book. (And if it inspires you to change your coding style, take a look at perlcritic. It requires some configuration, and getting started is quite frustrating, but it reliably detects a surprisingly high percentage of the issues discussed here and can help a great deal in making the coding style shift stick until you can build new habits.) Rating: 9 out of 10

25 December 2012

Russ Allbery: Review: A Paradise Built in Hell

Review: A Paradise Built in Hell, by Rebecca Solnit
Publisher: Penguin
Copyright: 2009
Printing: 2010
ISBN: 0-14-311807-2
Format: Trade paperback
Pages: 319
A Paradise Built in Hell is a book with an agenda. Solnit's goal is to convince the reader that nearly everything we're shown in movies and popular culture about human behavior during disasters is wrong. Not only is destructive mass panic unusual verging on nonexistent, spontaneous cooperation and acts of startling courage and resourcefulness are commonplace. The heroes that we hear about afterwards are more the norm than the exception. Disasters are far more likely to bring out the best in people than the worst. They break down barriers and form spontaneous human communities that survivors remember for a lifetime. Rather than natural disasters leading inevitably to an exacerbating human crisis in the absence of strong authority, Solnit argues that they are an amazing human opportunity, and that the most negative and destructive human behavior during crises is not from untrained victims but from the panic of the elites who are supposedly responsible for protecting the public. I think her analysis and presentation is both deeply appealing and deeply flawed. The flaws involve extrapolation and generalization beyond the applicability of her research, and I'll say more about that in a moment. But the appeal is still surprising and satisfying, and I think there's a lot of truth in this book despite its one-sided presentation. I like to tell people, half-jokingly, that I'm an anarchosyndicalist. It's my political alliegance of the heart: the political structure that I know would never work, but that matches the world I want to live in. (I suspect much of the belief in libertarianism is of this form.) Now I have a book to point people at when they ask what the appeal of anarchosyndicalism is. The sense of spontaneous community, of bonding, of reaching out to other people to do something necessary, together, that Solnit describes here in the aftermath of a disaster matches that vision of a world without imposed economic authority, where people spontaneously collaborate to solve problems. A Paradise Built in Hell is structured by disaster, providing a tour of major disasters and their aftermath interspersed with extended musings on what the human reactions mean and how disaster communities functioned. The major disasters discussed are the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, the Halifax explosion, the 1985 Mexico City earthquake, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina. Solnit moves through them in chronological order, closing the book with Katrina, which had (at least for me) the most infuriating and uplifting mixes of community bonding and elite panic. But both of those factors are present from the beginning in the 1906 earthquake: spontaneous human organization that (from multiple first-hand accounts) transformed people's lives mixed with a military reaction and elite panic that possibly did more damage to the city than the earthquake did. Elite panic is the dark side of Solnit's celebration of human altruism and spontaneous community organization. The primary picture she paints is of ordinary people responding with great courage and creativity and finding, in their reaction, a transformative experience and a sense of purpose that often becomes the most powerful and positive experience of their life. But this is at odds with a deeply-entrenched elite belief in mass panic, in the necessity of keeping information from the public to suppress their reaction, and in the need to re-establish "order." And with that, Solnit is absolutely scathing, and with some justification. Along with detailed accounts of these major disasters, Solnit also gives the reader a tour of the research literature on disasters, research that has shown that the panic and chaos that is at the center of practically every disaster movie ever made is essentially a myth. Mass panic in disasters is not only rare, it's close to non-existent. As you might expect, the handling of Katrina by both the government and by neighboring white communities is the subject of the harshest attacks. The material on Katrina presented here is enough to make anyone want to throw out the current playbook on how we react to disasters (and lest one think Solnit is unfair, her research matches very closely with other research and journalism on Katrina that I've seen from a wide variety of sources). But Solnit shows that this is a pattern: the combination of our media-driven belief in how people will react to disasters combined with the elite need to re-establish control plays out in many major disasters, and almost always negatively. Even in 9/11, the official response in some cases hampered and undermined an already-effective unofficial response. This is very interesting and has concrete implications for public policy around disasters. But where Solnit moves onto thinner anarchosyndicalist ice is the story that she tells about disasters as dramatic upheavals of the established social order that could point to a revolution in how we interact with each other. Solnit is deeply inspired by human altruism during disasters, and her enthusiasm is somewhat contageous, but it was useful to read this book shortly after Bruce Schneier's Liars and Outliers. I think Solnit, in her understandable eagerness to find a way to extend disaster behavior to general life, does not understand the relationships between what Schneier terms moral, reputational, and institutional pressures. And that's the core of why we need to both enable spontaneous human response in disasters and have organized first responders and supporting infrastructure, and why disaster communities will break down when extended beyond the disaster. When I first mentioned A Paradise Built in Hell to my mother, her first reaction was dubiousness due to her memory of the 1977 New York City blackout. There was a disaster that resulted in widespread looting and destruction, rather than the positive reaction Solnit describes. Solnit does have a cogent argument for why looting is poorly analyzed (we don't, for example, distinguish between breaking into stores to get desperately needed supplies and doing so for personal gain) and should not be a priority in a life-threatening disaster. But it's not completely convincing; in some disasters, particularly ones like the 1977 power outage that were not particularly life-threatening, the looting has been the most destructive part of the disaster. Schneier provides what I think is the missing piece, both to this and to why the wonderful behavior during disasters doesn't last into everyday life. During a life-threatening disaster, moral pressures are massively increased. Nearly all of us have self-images and moral beliefs that provide very strong incentives to help others and collaborate in the face of life-threatening emergencies, incentives that override other motives and lead to the sort of behavior that Solnit celebrates. But moral pressures have inherent limitations. That moral reaction applies most strongly to small groups (such as bands of survivors), and will start to break down as larger society re-establishes itself. And disasters, like a power outage, that are not immediately life-threatening will not provoke the same intensification of moral pressures: we don't have strong moral beliefs and internal stories about staying quietly at home during power outages the way that we do for saving people from burning buildings or pulling them out of rubble. Once larger communities have reformed and that short-term emergency reaction has dissipated, the need for institutional pressures (police, law, and formal authority structures) will return. I wish Solnit had been able to read Schneier's book before writing hers. I think his analysis structure provides a healthy dose of realism and perspective to her desire for a self-organizing communal world, and might have blunted her enthusiastic but somewhat unrealistic hopes for finding some key to a revolution in human organization in the heart of disasters. But if A Paradise Built in Hell is unlikely to lead to a radical change in how we organize societies, it should at least provoke a radical rethinking of some of our unnecessary pessimism about our fellow humans. The evidence is substantial and compelling: crisis brings out the best in people, not the worst, and the ordinary people who happen to be around are capable of becoming some of the most amazing disaster response teams that we can imagine. This has numerous mundane implications for social policy. We should consider simple training for the general public, for example, to strengthen that reaction, should allow for it in legal structures and training of first responders (around looting, for instance), and should do everything we can to kill the destructive myth that people cannot be trusted in disasters or that mass panic will be as much of a threat as the disaster. But the best part of this book is that it provides a concrete, well-documented, and well-defended reason to let go of some of our cynicism and to extend a bit of trust to our fellow humans. There sadly aren't earth-shaking implications for everyday society, but there is a wealth of evidence that shows that we're better people in the crunch than we believe we are, or that we expect of others. And the more that we can embrace the dissolution of boundaries and social hierarchies in the middle of disasters, the more we are likely to be surprised by deep human connection and a sense of shared, focused purpose. Solnit is a bit long-winded with her agenda, but that bright hope has stuck with me. Recommended. Rating: 8 out of 10

13 August 2012

Robert Collins: minimising downtime for schema changes with postgresql

Two years ago Launchpad did schema changes once a month. Everyone would cross their fingers and hope while the system administrators took all the application servers offline, patched the database with a months worth of work and brought up the servers again running the new QA d codebase. This had two problems:
  1. due to the complexity of the system something like 300 processes have to be stopped or inhibited to take everything offline the downtime duration was often about 90 minutes long irrespective of the schema patch duration. [Some of the processes don't like being interrupted at all].
  2. We simply could not deliver any change in less than 1 week, with the on average latency for something that jumped all the queues still being 2 weeks.
About a year ago we wanted to increase the rate at which schema changes could be carried out the efforts to speed Launchpad up had consumed most low hanging fruit and more and more schema patches were required. We didn t want to introduce additional 90 minute downtime windows though. Adopting incremental migrations the sort of change process described in various places on the internet seemed like a good way to make it possible to apply the schema changes without this slow shutdown-and-restart step, which was required because the pre-patch codebase couldn t speak to the new schema. We could optimise each patch to be very fast by avoiding anything that causes a full table scan or table rewrite (such as adding indices, adding columns with a non-NULL default value). That would let us avoid the 90 minutes of downtime caused by stopping and restarting everything. However, that wasn t sufficient the reason Launchpad ended up doing monthly downtime is that previous attempts to do more frequent schema changes had too high a failure rate. A key reason for patch deployment time blowing out when everything wasn t shut down was due to Launchpad being a very busy system with the use of Slony, schema changes require an exclusive lock on all tables. [More recent versions of Slony only lock some tables, but it still requires very widespread locks for most DDL operations]. We re doing nearly 10 thousand transactions per minute, at any point in time there are always locks open on some table in the system: it was highly improbably and effectively impossible for slonik to get an exclusive lock on all tables in a reasonable timeframe. Background tasks that take many minutes to complete exacerbate this we can t just block new transactions long enough to deliver all the in-flight web pages and let locks clear that way. PGBouncer turns out to be an ideal tool here. If you route all your connections through PGBouncer, you have a single point you can deliberately interrupt to clear all database locks in a second or so (it takes time for backends to all notice that their clients have gone). So we combined these things to get what we called Fast Down Time or FDT. We set the following rules for developers:
  1. Any schema patch had to complete in <= 15 seconds in our schema staging environment (which has a full copy of the production DB), or we d roll it back and redesign.
  2. Any patch could change either code or schema, never both. schema patches were to land on a separate branch and would be promoted to trunk only after deployment. That branch also receives automated merges from trunk after every commit to trunk, so its running the latest code.
This meant that we could be confident in QA: we would QA the new schema and the application process with the current live code (we deploy trunk multiple times a day). We published some documentation about how to write fast schema patches to help socialise the approach. Then we wrote an automated tool that would:
  1. Check for known fragile processes and abort if any were found.
  2. Check for very long transactions and abort if any were found.
  3. Shutdown pgbouncer, disconnecting all clients instantly.
  4. Use slonik to apply one or more schema patches.
  5. Start pgbouncer back up again.
The code for this (call it FDTv1) is in the Launchpad source code history its pretty entangled but its there for grabbing if you need it. Read on to see why its only available in the history :) The result was wonderful we immediately were able to deploy schema changes with <= 90 seconds of downtime, which was significantly less than the 5 minutes our stakeholders had agreed to as a benchmark if we were under 5 minutes, we could schedule downtime once a day rather than once a month. We had to fix some API client code to retry more reliably, and likewise fix a few minor bugs in the database connection handling logic in the appservers, but all in all it was a pretty smooth project. Along the way we spun off a small python helper to run and control pgbouncer, which let us write effective tests for the connection handling code paths. In This gave us the following workflow for making schema changes:
  1. Land and deploy an incremental schema change.
  2. Land and deploy any indices that need to be added these are deployed live using CREATE INDEX CONCURRENTLY.
  3. Land and deploy code changes to populate any additional fields/tables from both application servers, and from cron we do a bulk backfill that does many small transactions while walking over the entire dataset that needs to be updated / populated.
  4. Land and deploy code changes to drop references to the old schema, whatever it was.
  5. Land and deploy an incremental schema change to finalise the change such as making a new column NOT NULL once the backfill is complete.
This looks long and unwieldy but its worth noting that its actually just repeated applications of a smaller primitive:
  1. Make a schema change that is fast and compatible with existing code.
  2. Change code to take advantage of the changed schema
Pretty much any change that is desired can be done using this single primitive. We wanted to go further though the multiple stages required for complex migrations became a burden with one change a day. Fortunately PostgreSQL now includes its own replication engine, which replicates the WAL logs rather than installing triggers on all tables like Slony. Stuart, our intrepid DBA migrated Launchpad to PostreSQL 9.1, updated the FDT tool to work with native replication, and migrated Launchpad off of Slony. The result is again wonderful the overhead in doing a schema patch, with all the protection I described above, is now ~5 seconds. We can do incremental changes in less time than it takes your browser to figure out that a given server is offline. We re now negotiating with the Launchpad stakeholders to get multiple downtime windows each day, with this almost unnoticable, super reliable process in place. Reliability wise, FDT has been superb. We ve had 2 failures: one where we believe we encountered a bug in Slony when dropping two tables at once, and one where we landed a patch that worked on staging but led to lock contention in production so the patch applied, but the system was very unhealthy after that until we fixed it. Thats after doing approximately 60 patches over a 1 year period. We re partway through extracting the patching logic from Launchpad s code base into a reusable tool, but the basic principles will apply to any PostgreSQL environment.

3 February 2012

Pietro Abate: QA tools for FOSS distributions

I'm going to deliver this talk at fosdem 2012, room H.1301 (CrossDistribution Devroom) at 16:30 on Sat. If you are interested, please come by. In particular I'd like to talk with all the developers out there that are using our work (of edos fame) and to discuss with them future plans to migrate their programs to the new generation of mancoosi - powered QA tools. Scroll down to get the slides . fosdem link : http://fosdem.org/2012/schedule/event/distro_qa_tools

Abstract FOSS distributions are increasingly over pressure to deliver stable releases including the most up to date upstream software. Time-based release strategies has exacerbated this problem putting even more pressure on QA teams. The recently concluded Mancoosi project has developed a number of tools to automatically analyse large packages collections for a range of problems, from installability checks to speculative analysis of software repositories. In this talk I'll present four command line tools to identify and correct potential problems as soon as possible during the release cycle. In particular :
  • Debcheck: This tools helps to identify all broken packages within a repository and provides a detailed explanation of the problem. This can be used to prevent shipping releases that contain packages that cannot be installed because of missing or malformed dependencies.
  • Buildcheck: Given a Sources file and a set of binary repositories, this tool identifies those source packages that cannot be compiled because their build dependencies cannot be satisfied.
  • Outdated: This tool identifies those broken packages that need special attention because of outdated meta-data.
  • Challenged: This tool performs a speculative analysis of the repository to identify those packages that, if upgraded to a specific version, would break a large number of other packages in the repository. This tool would be particularly useful during the upgrade of a specific component to evaluate its impact on the software archive.
Most of our tools support both rpm (version 4 and 5) and deb based distributions. The mancoosi team.
AttachmentSize
main.pdf504.46 KB

18 January 2011

Russell Coker: Conferences and People on the Autism Spectrum

There have been some recent discussions about issues related to the treatment of women at Free Software conferences, I ve written posts about Aspie Social Skills and Free Software [1] and Empathy, Autism, and Geeks [2] about this. But of course discussion continued on how Aspies supposedly cause problems that no-one seems to be noticing.Lisa of Chaotic Idealism wrote an interesting post about the NT social bias [3]. In summary NTs seem to think that Autism Spectrum Disorders are only about socialisation, not realising that for many people on the Spectrum it s sensory issues that are their main problem. Social problems are exacerbated by sensory issues and other causes of stress, so I think it s worth considering ways in which conferences can be planned to be less stressful for people on the Autism Spectrum, people who have SPD [4] that isn t associated with an ASD, and NTs who just get annoyed by loud noises etc.What Autism Conferences DoAutscape is one of only two conferences for people on the Autism Spectrum and the only one which clearly documents how they plan their conference [5]. The first noteworthy thing that they do is have badge colors to indicate what level of social interaction is desired by each delegate, I don t think that this is relevant to Free Software conferences as people who don t have sufficient social skills to suit at least a green badge probably won t be attending. But I think that when attending a conference about Free Software or any other equally geeky topic (if there is an equally geeky topic) it s worth keeping in mind the fact that there are probably a lot of people who would like to talk to you but lack the social skills to start a conversation.
No initiationRedPlease do not initiate any interaction with me.
Prior PermissionYellowPlease do not initiate unless I have already given you permission to approach me on a yellow badge.
Please initiateGreenI would like to socialise, but I have difficulty initiating. Please initiate with me.
NeutralWhite (or no badge)I am able to regulate my own interaction.
The next thing that they document is a black circle badge which indicates that the wearer shouldn t be photographed. Prior to reading that web site I wasn t aware of this being an Autistic issue, I was only aware of it being an issue for women who don t want zoomed-in pictures of themselves appearing on guys web sites (even pictures that aren t up-skirt or down-blouse can be unwelcome). A conference policy that prohibited photographs that zoom in on one person without that person s consent (or parental consent in the case of minors) would probably be a good idea.Another thing about badges is that it s a really good idea to have the delegate s name on both sides of the badge if the badge is attached in a way that permits it to turn. People on the Autism Spectrum tend to have some difficulty in recognising people and in remembering names. I find it inconvenient when someone expects me to recognise them but has their badge turned around so I can t see their name. Some people get really unhappy if they think that someone doesn t recognise them.Autscape has long breaks between activities and a leisure session each afternoon to allow delegates to recover from the stress of dealing with people. It seems to me that computer conferences in some cases could do with longer breaks between sessions. I find that a lot of the benefit of a conference is in what happens outside sessions and the standard practice of publishing videos of presentations makes personal meetings a more important part of the conference.Autscape has designated quiet spaces. I think that for computer conferences which have hack-labs (which seems to be most Free Software conferences nowadays even if they aren t labelled as such) it would be good to have some lab areas designated as quiet zones. I think that it is a really good thing to meet people you ve only known by email and then play some LAN based games against them and that this should be encouraged as part of a conference, but having that sort of thing separated from people who want to do some quiet coding is a really good idea. Whether people want to do quiet coding, read email, or just escape from the stress of a conference a quiet hack-lab would be a good place for it.An issue that s related to quiet spaces is the ability to escape from social situations. One of my pet hates is corporate meetings on boats, when the boat is in motion there is no escape. Corporate meetings that are only accessible by coach are also bad. Fortunately most conferences aren t like that.The Autscape web site states that they prohibit people from wearing perfume or aftershave to help people who are sensitive to smell. My observation of Free Software conferences is that encouraging everyone to have a shower every morning would be a good idea as there are stronger smells from unwashed people than from perfume.One thing that s interesting about the Autscape web site is that they have different color schemes available and have tested it in multiple web browsers including Safari and Konqueror (which apparently don t work so well). It s interesting to note that they test with such a variety of browsers including free software ones most corporations don t do that.Sensory Processing IssuesThe main SPD issues related to conferences seem to be noise and light related.For social events one difficulty that most people on the Spectrum seem to face is in listening to one person in a noisy crowded room. As well as that sudden noises and loud background noises can be very stressful. While it s sometimes impossible to avoid crowds (which can be another problem) it is often possible to select venues that have less noise problems. A venue with carpet on the floor and soft walls (anything other than brick or concrete) will be a lot quieter than one with hard surfaces that reflect noise. It seems that a quiet venue will benefit NTs as well, there seems to be a strong correlation between the price of food at restaurants and the amount of sound absorbing material on the floor and walls people who can afford a good dining experience seem to want it quiet.In terms of visual issues the relevant problems seem to be related to sudden transitions and lecture halls that are extremely dark. The only thing that can be done by conference organisers is to seek to have the lights in the lecture halls as bright as possible without preventing the viewing of the projector screen, this is usually done anyway.For social events the whole binge drinking at crowded bars thing doesn t work too well due to noise, poor lighting, crowds, and the smell of vomit. But there s no shortage of reasons to discourage binge drinking at conferences.FoodPsychology Today has a good article about preferences for food and picky eaters [6]. Lots of people on the Autism Spectrum have similar issues. The thing to do when arranging a conference meal is to have things neat and without needless combinations. Think about making food look more like what you would expect to see in a Japanese restaurant and less like Paella. Also having some very plain food on offer is a good thing, I think that bread-rolls for dinner and ice-cream for desert makes a viable meal. But any dish with a word like hash or mixed in it s name isn t a good option. Finally some combinations are really bad, I always find rare steak and potatoes on the same plate to be rather disgusting potato that s blood-stained doesn t appeal. The majority of conference meals satisfy these criteria.Autscape provides options of eating outside the main dining hall for people who can t tolerate the noise. For a Free Software conference it might be a better idea to provide seating outside the main area for people who are going to make noise. I don t mind people who want to get really drunk at the conference dinner, but I would prefer them to be in a separate room. Also when assisting a drunk friend to leave the venue before they cause more problems it would be convenient if there was a good place to take them to. The one occasion when I had to strongly encourage a friend to leave a conference dinner to reduce his embarrassment the next day (and reduce the annoyance for everyone else) there was no good place to take him so he just came back!ConclusionI don t expect that anyone will make any significant changes to conference plans after reading this post. I have tried to focus on things that would benefit NTs as well, but there are practical issues that get in the way such as the cost and availability of venues that are large enough. But there are some smaller ideas that can be implemented with relative ease.I hope that the people who are making claims about Autism and conference behavior will refer to this in future. If you think that there is a problem with the way people on the Spectrum act at conferences then the solution will more likely involve the suggestions I make here than anything else.

9 May 2010

Robert Collins: Maintainable pyunit test suites

There s a test code maintenance issue I ve been grappling with, and watching others grapple with for a while now. I ve blogged about some infrastructural things related to it before, but now I think its time to talk about the problem itself. The problem shows up as soon as you start writing setUp functions, or custom assertThing functions. And the problem is where do you put this code?
If you have a single TestCase, its easy. But as soon as you have two test classes it becomes more difficult. If you choose either class, the other class cannot use your setUp or assertion code. If you create a base class for your tests and put the code there you end up with a huge base class, and every test paying the total overhead of your test needs, rather than just the overhead needed to test the particular system you want to test. Or with a large and growing list of assertions most of which are irrelevant for most tests.
The reason the choices have to be made is because test code is just code; and all the normal issues there separation of concerns, composition often being better than inheritance, do-one-thing-well all apply to our test code. These issues are exacerbated by pyunit (that is the Python unittest module included with the standard library and extended by various projects)
Lets look some (some) of the concerns involved in a test environment: Test execution, fixture management, outcome decision making. I m using slightly abstract terms here because I don t want to bind the discussion down to an existing implementation. However the down side is that I need to define these terms a little.
Test execution by this I mean the basic machinery of running a single test: the test framework calling into user code and receiving back an outcome with details. E.g. in pyunit your test_method() code is called, success is determined by it returning successfully, and other outcomes by raising specific exceptions. Other languages without exceptions might do this returning an outcome object, or passing some object into the user code to be called by the test.
Fixture management the non trivial code that prepares a situation where you can make assertions. On the small side, creating a few object instances and glueing them together, on the large end, loading data into a database (and creating the database instance at the same time). Isolation issues such as masking out environment variables and creating temp directories are included in this category in my opinion.
Outcome decision making possibly the most obtuse label I ve ever given this, I m referring the process of deciding *what* outcome you wish to have happen. This takes different forms depending on your testing framework. For instance, in Python s doctest:
>>> x
45
provides a specification the test framework calls str(x) and then compares that to the string 45 . In pyunit assertions are typically used:
self.assertEqual(45, x)
Will call 45 == x and if the result is not True, raise an exception indicating a Failure has occured. Unexpected exceptions cause Errors, and in the most recent pyunit, and some extensions, other exceptions can signal that a test should not be run, or should have failed.
So, those are the three concerns that we have when testing; where should each be expressed (in pyunit)? Pragmatically the test execution code is the hardest to separate out: Its partly outside of user control , in that the contract is with the test framework. So lets start by saying that this core facility, which we should very rarely need to change, should be in TestCase.
That leaves fixture management and outcome decision making. Lets tackle decision making if you consider the earlier doctest and assertion examples, I think its fairly clear that there are multiple discrete components at play. Two in particular I d like to highlight are: matching and signalling. In the doctest example the matching is done by string matching the reference object(s) are stringified and compared to an example the test writer provides. In the pyunit example the matching is done by the __eq__ protocol. The signalling in the doctest example is done inside the test framework (so we don t see any evidence of it at all). In the pyunit example the signalling is done by the assertion method calling self.fail(), that being the defined contract for causing a failure. Now for a more complex example: testing a float. In doctest:
>>> %0.3f % x
0.123
In pyunit:
self.assertAlmostEqual(0.123, x, places=3)
This very simple check that a floating point number is effectively 0.123 exposes two problems immediately. The first, in doctest, is that literal string comparisons are extremely limited. A regex or other language would be much more powerful (and there are some extensions to doctest; the point remains though the operator is not enough). The second problem is in pyunit. It is that the contract of assertEqual and assertAlmostEqual are different: you cannot substitute one in where the other was expected without partial function application something that while powerful is not the most obvious thing to reach for, or to read in code. The JUnit folk came up with a nice way to address this: they decoupled /matching/ and /deciding/ with a new assertion called assertThat and a language for matching expressed as classes. The initial matcher library, hamcrest, is pretty ugly in Python; I don t use it because it tries too hard to be english like rather than being honest about being code. (Aside, what would is_() in a python library mean to you? Unless you ve read the hamcrest code, or are not a Python programmer, you ll probably get it wrong. However the concept is totally sound. So, outcome decision making should be done by using a matching language totally seperate from testing, and a small bit of glue for your test framework. In testtools that glue is assertThat , and the matching language is a narrow Matcher contract (in testtools.matchers) which I m going to describe here, in case you cannot or don t want to use the testtools one.
class Matcher:
    def __str__(self):
        "Describe this matcher."""
    def match(self, something):
        """Determine if something is matched.
        :param something: Something to match.
        :return: None if something matched, or a Mismatch object otherwise.
        """
class Mismatch:
    def describe(self):
        """Describe a mismatch that has occured."""
This permits composition and inheritance within your matching code in a pretty clean way. Using == only permits this if you can simultaneously define an __eq__ for your objects that matches with arbitrarily sensitivity (e.g. you might not want to be examining the process_id value for a process a test ran, but do want to check other fields).
Now for fixture management. This one is pretty simple really: stop using setUp (and other similar on-TestCase methods). If you use them, you will end up with a hierarchy like this:
BaseTestCase1
 +TestCase1
 +TestCase2
 +BaseTestCase2
   +TestCase3
   +TestCase4
   +BaseTestCase3
     +TestCase5
     ...
That is, you ll have a tree of base classes, and hanging off them actual test cases. Instead, write on your base TestCase a single glue method e.g.
def useFixture(self, fixture):
      fixture.setUp()
      self.addCleanup(fixture.tearDown)
      return fixture
And then rather than having a setUp function which performs complex operations, define a fixture an object with a setUp and a tearDown method. Use this in tests that need that code::
def test_foo(self):
      server = self.useFixture(NewServerWithUsers())
      self.assertThat(server, HasUser('fred'))
Note that there are some things around that offer this sort of convention already: thats all it is convention. Pick one, and run with it. But please don t use setUp; it was a conflated idea in the first place and is a concrete problem. Something like testresources or testscenarios may fit your needs if it does, great! However they are not the last word they aren t convenient enough to replace just calling a simple helper like I ve presented here.
To conclude, the short story is:
  • use assertThat and have a seperate hierarchy of composable matchers
  • use or create a fixture/resouce framework rather than setUp/tearDown
  • any old TestCase that has the outcomes you want should do at this point (but I love testtools).

8 February 2010

Russell Coker: Security and Hiring

The main sources of information used when hiring someone are their CV, the interview, and references. CV The CV is written by the applicant or sometimes for the applicant. Naturally it says only good things, if a CV notes no skill in a particular area then it may be used to exclude an employee from consideration. But the trend is towards including a reference to anything that you touch, so someone who lists DBA experience may merely have done a couple of CREATE TABLE operations. Interview The interview is a good test of people skills but is often of little value in assessing technical skills. The interviewer asks questions such as do you know technology X and the applicant says I know that really well . If the company is hiring another person with similar skills to current employees then they can have their current employees sit in on the interview and ask difficult technical questions, but for unknown reasons managers often don t take that option and get no advice from their technical people. Also if the company is hiring someone with specialised skills (EG they are about to implement a new application and want to hire their first employee to work on it) then it may be impossible for them to assess the technical merit of answers. Probably the best use of the interview is to match answers with the CV, if the applicant doesn t appear to know the contents of their own CV then they should be rejected. The biggest problem with interviews is when the questions are all of the form do you know X . Someone who really knows it will say yes as will someone who doesn t know enough to realise the limits of their knowledge and such ignorant people vastly outnumber the skillful people. The real problem is that the people who are moderately skillful will lose out. If someone asks me about my MySQL skills I will tell them that I m not really good at it. Sure I ve run replicated servers with tens of thousands of users running 24*7, but that doesn t mean I m really good at it probably most people who will claim to be great at MySQL without qualification would have less experience than me. References Reference checks rely on an unknown person saying good things about the applicant. For starters there is the issue of the number of references which may not be representative of their employment history EG the applicant could use as a reference the one manager who didn t sack them. The next issue is that there is little incentive for the referee to be honest, most people are aware of instances where someone once worked for a friend and can rely on good references for the rest of their career. If a reference is inaccurate then there is no realistic opportunity for redress. Finally every reference check that I am aware of (checks where I have been the referee or the applicant) has involved the applicant giving the phone number of the referee to the hiring manager! The phone could be owned by a friend or relative of the applicant, so logically a good reference that is based on trusting the applicant to supply the phone number only proves that the applicant is either good or really bad. To make a reference check prove something the recruiter would at a minimum have to phone the number listed in the white-pages for the corporation that used to employ the applicant, asks to speak to the manager of the relevant department, and then gets a reference. Calling a mobile phone number that is supplied by the applicant (which seems to be the standard practice) is essentially trusting the applicant and trust is the root cause of most security problems! Really most of this ends up as trusting the applicant to provide honest evidence that they are trustworthy and believing that the applicant s technical knowledge is good enough to be correct when they say that their technical knowledge is good. It can fail spectacularly when someone isn t trustworthy enough to provide honest evidence of their integrity or when someone doesn t have the skills needed to know that their skills are lacking. As an aside, even if the reference is given accurately and in good faith it may still be misinterpreted. The fact that telephone references are exclusively relied on exacerbates this problem. Ideally references would be in writing with some way of proving their authenticity (maybe using phone verification of the accuracy of the written document). Solutions So how can we solve this? Some people believe that career based social networking software will solve the problems, but as usual I think that software doesn t magically solve human problems. The first challenge when trying to use social networking to solve the problem is to find someone on your friends list who has relevant knowledge, this may be viable in a small industry (EG when someone from bank A applies for work as bank B in the same city). The next issue is that of false friends . I m sure that I m not the only person who has been pressured to add people as friends on social networking sites, the non-computer social interactions really don t prepare people for saying no you are not my friend (apart from high-school I guess). With professional social networking sites there are further issues, if you are working on a client site and a manager demands that they be listed as one of your friends then what are you going to do? So it seems to me that the social networking sites are at best a helper for the gossip network. If you think that a friend of a friend from a social networking site might be able to help you then you first ask your friend if the person in question is really a friend, and if so are they one of the shifty pseudo-friends you only hang out with because their company pays good money. But the problem with the gossip network is that it s mostly secret and is therefore subject to settling vendettas, I ve heard of senior managers going out of their way to spread false stories about former employees to settle scores. The best solution I can think of is for someone who has a reputation to publicly stake it on the accuracy of their references. If I m going to give a reference then I would be happy to do so via a GPG signed email or a blog post. This doesn t mean that my references will always be correct, but it would show that I try to give good references.

Next.