Search Results: "robin"

25 February 2024

Russ Allbery: Review: The Fund

Review: The Fund, by Rob Copeland
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Copyright: 2023
ISBN: 1-250-27694-2
Format: Kindle
Pages: 310
I first became aware of Ray Dalio when either he or his publisher plastered advertisements for The Principles all over the San Francisco 4th and King Caltrain station. If I recall correctly, there were also constant radio commercials; it was a whole thing in 2017. My brain is very good at tuning out advertisements, so my only thought at the time was "some business guy wrote a self-help book." I think I vaguely assumed he was a CEO of some traditional business, since that's usually who writes heavily marketed books like this. I did not connect him with hedge funds or Bridgewater, which I have a bad habit of confusing with Blackwater. The Principles turns out to be more of a laundered cult manual than a self-help book. And therein lies a story. Rob Copeland is currently with The New York Times, but for many years he was the hedge fund reporter for The Wall Street Journal. He covered, among other things, Bridgewater Associates, the enormous hedge fund founded by Ray Dalio. The Fund is a biography of Ray Dalio and a history of Bridgewater from its founding as a vehicle for Dalio's advising business until 2022 when Dalio, after multiple false starts and title shuffles, finally retired from running the company. (Maybe. Based on the history recounted here, it wouldn't surprise me if he was back at the helm by the time you read this.) It is one of the wildest, creepiest, and most abusive business histories that I have ever read. It's probably worth mentioning, as Copeland does explicitly, that Ray Dalio and Bridgewater hate this book and claim it's a pack of lies. Copeland includes some of their denials (and many non-denials that sound as good as confirmations to me) in footnotes that I found increasingly amusing.
A lawyer for Dalio said he "treated all employees equally, giving people at all levels the same respect and extending them the same perks."
Uh-huh. Anyway, I personally know nothing about Bridgewater other than what I learned here and the occasional mention in Matt Levine's newsletter (which is where I got the recommendation for this book). I have no independent information whether anything Copeland describes here is true, but Copeland provides the typical extensive list of notes and sourcing one expects in a book like this, and Levine's comments indicated it's generally consistent with Bridgewater's industry reputation. I think this book is true, but since the clear implication is that the world's largest hedge fund was primarily a deranged cult whose employees mostly spied on and rated each other rather than doing any real investment work, I also have questions, not all of which Copeland answers to my satisfaction. But more on that later. The center of this book are the Principles. These were an ever-changing list of rules and maxims for how people should conduct themselves within Bridgewater. Per Copeland, although Dalio later published a book by that name, the version of the Principles that made it into the book was sanitized and significantly edited down from the version used inside the company. Dalio was constantly adding new ones and sometimes changing them, but the common theme was radical, confrontational "honesty": never being silent about problems, confronting people directly about anything that they did wrong, and telling people all of their faults so that they could "know themselves better." If this sounds like textbook abusive behavior, you have the right idea. This part Dalio admits to openly, describing Bridgewater as a firm that isn't for everyone but that achieves great results because of this culture. But the uncomfortably confrontational vibes are only the tip of the iceberg of dysfunction. Here are just a few of the ways this played out according to Copeland: In one of the common and all-too-disturbing connections between Wall Street finance and the United States' dysfunctional government, James Comey (yes, that James Comey) ran internal security for Bridgewater for three years, meaning that he was the one who pulled evidence from surveillance cameras for Dalio to use to confront employees during his trials. In case the cult vibes weren't strong enough already, Bridgewater developed its own idiosyncratic language worthy of Scientology. The trials were called "probings," firing someone was called "sorting" them, and rating them was called "dotting," among many other Bridgewater-specific terms. Needless to say, no one ever probed Dalio himself. You will also be completely unsurprised to learn that Copeland documents instances of sexual harassment and discrimination at Bridgewater, including some by Dalio himself, although that seems to be a relatively small part of the overall dysfunction. Dalio was happy to publicly humiliate anyone regardless of gender. If you're like me, at this point you're probably wondering how Bridgewater continued operating for so long in this environment. (Per Copeland, since Dalio's retirement in 2022, Bridgewater has drastically reduced the cult-like behaviors, deleted its archive of probings, and de-emphasized the Principles.) It was not actually a religious cult; it was a hedge fund that has to provide investment services to huge, sophisticated clients, and by all accounts it's a very successful one. Why did this bizarre nightmare of a workplace not interfere with Bridgewater's business? This, I think, is the weakest part of this book. Copeland makes a few gestures at answering this question, but none of them are very satisfying. First, it's clear from Copeland's account that almost none of the employees of Bridgewater had any control over Bridgewater's investments. Nearly everyone was working on other parts of the business (sales, investor relations) or on cult-related obsessions. Investment decisions (largely incorporated into algorithms) were made by a tiny core of people and often by Dalio himself. Bridgewater also appears to not trade frequently, unlike some other hedge funds, meaning that they probably stay clear of the more labor-intensive high-frequency parts of the business. Second, Bridgewater took off as a hedge fund just before the hedge fund boom in the 1990s. It transformed from Dalio's personal consulting business and investment newsletter to a hedge fund in 1990 (with an earlier investment from the World Bank in 1987), and the 1990s were a very good decade for hedge funds. Bridgewater, in part due to Dalio's connections and effective marketing via his newsletter, became one of the largest hedge funds in the world, which gave it a sort of institutional momentum. No one was questioned for putting money into Bridgewater even in years when it did poorly compared to its rivals. Third, Dalio used the tried and true method of getting free publicity from the financial press: constantly predict an upcoming downturn, and aggressively take credit whenever you were right. From nearly the start of his career, Dalio predicted economic downturns year after year. Bridgewater did very well in the 2000 to 2003 downturn, and again during the 2008 financial crisis. Dalio aggressively takes credit for predicting both of those downturns and positioning Bridgewater correctly going into them. This is correct; what he avoids mentioning is that he also predicted downturns in every other year, the majority of which never happened. These points together create a bit of an answer, but they don't feel like the whole picture and Copeland doesn't connect the pieces. It seems possible that Dalio may simply be good at investing; he reads obsessively and clearly enjoys thinking about markets, and being an abusive cult leader doesn't take up all of his time. It's also true that to some extent hedge funds are semi-free money machines, in that once you have a sufficient quantity of money and political connections you gain access to investment opportunities and mechanisms that are very likely to make money and that the typical investor simply cannot access. Dalio is clearly good at making personal connections, and invested a lot of effort into forming close ties with tricky clients such as pools of Chinese money. Perhaps the most compelling explanation isn't mentioned directly in this book but instead comes from Matt Levine. Bridgewater touts its algorithmic trading over humans making individual trades, and there is some reason to believe that consistently applying an algorithm without regard to human emotion is a solid trading strategy in at least some investment areas. Levine has asked in his newsletter, tongue firmly in cheek, whether the bizarre cult-like behavior and constant infighting is a strategy to distract all the humans and keep them from messing with the algorithm and thus making bad decisions. Copeland leaves this question unsettled. Instead, one comes away from this book with a clear vision of the most dysfunctional workplace I have ever heard of, and an endless litany of bizarre events each more astonishing than the last. If you like watching train wrecks, this is the book for you. The only drawback is that, unlike other entries in this genre such as Bad Blood or Billion Dollar Loser, Bridgewater is a wildly successful company, so you don't get the schadenfreude of seeing a house of cards collapse. You do, however, get a helpful mental model to apply to the next person who tries to talk to you about "radical honesty" and "idea meritocracy." The flaw in this book is that the existence of an organization like Bridgewater is pointing to systematic flaws in how our society works, which Copeland is largely uninterested in interrogating. "How could this have happened?" is a rather large question to leave unanswered. The sheer outrageousness of Dalio's behavior also gets a bit tiring by the end of the book, when you've seen the patterns and are hearing about the fourth variation. But this is still an astonishing book, and a worthy entry in the genre of capitalism disasters. Rating: 7 out of 10

26 November 2023

Ian Jackson: Hacking my filter coffee machine

I hacked my coffee machine to let me turn it on from upstairs in bed :-). Read on for explanation, circuit diagrams, 3D models, firmware source code, and pictures. Background: the Morphy Richards filter coffee machine I have a Morphy Richards filter coffee machine. It makes very good coffee. But the display and firmware are quite annoying: Also, I m lazy and wanted to be able to cause coffee to exist from upstairs in bed, without having to make a special trip down just to turn the machine on. Planning My original feeling was I can t be bothered dealing with the coffee machine innards so I thought I would make a mechanical contraption to physically press the coffee machine s on button. I could have my contraption press the button to turn the machine on (timed, or triggered remotely), and then periodically in pairs to reset the 25-minute keep-warm timer. But a friend pointed me at a blog post by Andy Bradford, where Andy recounts modifying his coffee machine, adding an ESP8266 and connecting it to his MQTT-based Home Assistant setup. I looked at the pictures and they looked very similar to my machine. I decided to take a look inside. Inside the Morphy Richards filter coffee machine My coffee machine seemed to be very similar to Andy s. His disassembly report was very helpful. Inside I found the high-voltage parts with the heating elements, and the front panel with the display and buttons. I spent a while poking about, masuring things, and so on. Unexpected electrical hazard At one point I wanted to use my storage oscilloscope to capture the duration and amplitude of the beep signal. I needed to connect the scope ground to the UI board s ground plane, but then when I switched the coffee machine on at the wall socket, it tripped the house s RCD. It turns out that the low voltage UI board is coupled to the mains. In my setting, there s an offset of about 8V between the UI board ground plane, and true earth. (In my house the neutral is about 2-3V away from true earth.) This alarmed me rather. To me, this means that my modifications needed to still properly electrically isolate everything connected to the UI board from anything external to the coffee machine s housing. In Andy s design, I think the internal UI board ground plane is directly brought out to an external USB-A connector. This means that if there were a neutral fault, the USB-A connector would be at live potential, possibly creating an electrocution or fire hazard. I made a comment in Andy Bradford s blog, reporting this issue, but it doesn t seem to have appeared. This is all quite alarming. I hope Andy is OK! Design approach I don t have an MQTT setup at home, or an installation of Home Assistant. I didn t feel like adding a lot of complicated software to my life, if I could avoid it. Nor did I feel like writing a web UI myself. I ve done that before, but I m lazy and in this case my requirements were quite modest. Also, the need for electrical isolation would further complicate any attempt to do something sophisticated (that could, for example, sense the state of the coffee machine). I already had a Tasmota-based cloud-free smart plug, which controls the fairy lights on our gazebo. We just operate that through its web UI. So, I decided I would add a small and stupid microcontroller. The microcontroller would be powered via a smart plug and an off-the-shelf USB power supply. The microcontroller would have no inputs. It would simply simulate an on button press once at startup, and thereafter two presses every 24 minutes. After the 4th double press the microcontroller would stop, leaving the coffee machine to time out itself, after a total period of about 2h. Implementation - hardware I used a DigiSpark board with an ATTiny85. One of the GPIOs is connected to an optoisolator, whose output transistor is wired across the UI board s on button. circuit diagram; board layout diagram; (click for diagram scans as pdfs). The DigiSpark has just a USB tongue, which is very wobbly in a normal USB socket. I designed a 3D printed case which also had an approximation of the rest of the USB A plug. The plug is out of spec; our printer won t go fine enough - and anyway, the shield is supposed to be metal, not fragile plastic. But it fit in the USB PSU I was using, satisfactorily if a bit stiffly, and also into the connector for programming via my laptop. Inside the coffee machine, there s the boundary between the original, coupled to mains, UI board, and the isolated low voltage of the microcontroller. I used a reasonably substantial cable to bring out the low voltage connection, past all the other hazardous innards, to make sure it stays isolated. I added a drain power supply resistor on another of the GPIOs. This is enabled, with a draw of about 30mA, when the microcontroller is soon going to off / on cycle the coffee machine. That reduces the risk that the user will turn off the smart plug, and turn off the machine, but that the microcontroller turns the coffee machine back on again using the remaining power from USB PSU. Empirically in my setup it reduces the time from smart plug off to microcontroller stops from about 2-3s to more like 1s. Optoisolator board (inside coffee machine) pictures (Click through for full size images.) optoisolator board, front; optoisolator board, rear; optoisolator board, fitted. Microcontroller board (in USB-plug-ish housing) pictures microcontroller board, component side; microcontroller board, wiring side, part fitted; microcontroller in USB-plug-ish housing. Implementation - software I originally used the Arduino IDE, writing my program in C. I had a bad time with that and rewrote it in Rust. The firmware is in a repository on Debian s gitlab Results I can now cause the coffee to start, from my phone. It can be programmed more than 12h in advance. And it stays warm until we ve drunk it. UI is worse There s one aspect of the original Morphy Richards machine that I haven t improved: the user interface is still poor. Indeed, it s now even worse: To turn the machine on, you probably want to turn on the smart plug instead. Unhappily, the power button for that is invisible in its installed location. In particular, in the usual case, if you want to turn it off, you should ideally turn off both the smart plug (which can be done with the button on it) and the coffee machine itself. If you forget to turn off the smart plug, the machine can end up being turned on, very briefly, a handful of times, over the next hour or two. Epilogue We had used the new features a handful of times when one morning the coffee machine just wouldn t make coffee. The UI showed it turning on, but it wouldn t get hot, so no coffee. I thought oh no, I ve broken it! But, on investigation, I found that the machine s heating element was open circuit (ie, completely broken). I didn t mess with that part. So, hooray! Not my fault. Probably, just being inverted a number of times and generally lightly jostled, had precipitated a latent fault. The machine was a number of years old. Happily I found a replacement, identical, machine, online. I ve transplanted my modification and now it all works well. Bonus pictures (Click through for full size images.) probing the innards; machine base showing new cable route.
edited 2023-11-26 14:59 UTC in an attempt to fix TOC links


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27 September 2023

Bits from Debian: New Debian Developers and Maintainers (July and August 2023)

The following contributors got their Debian Developer accounts in the last two months: The following contributors were added as Debian Maintainers in the last two months: Congratulations!

27 August 2023

Shirish Agarwal: FSCKing /home

There is a bit of context that needs to be shared before I get to this and would be a long one. For reasons known and unknown, I have a lot of sudden electricity outages. Not just me, all those who are on my line. A discussion with a lineman revealed that around 200+ families and businesses are on the same line and when for whatever reason the electricity goes for all. Even some of the traffic lights don t work. This affects software more than hardware or in some cases, both. And more specifically HDD s are vulnerable. I had bought an APC unit several years for precisely this, but over period of time it just couldn t function and trips also when the electricity goes out. It s been 6-7 years so can t even ask customer service to fix the issue and from whatever discussions I have had with APC personnel, the only meaningful difference is to buy a new unit but even then not sure this is an issue that can be resolved, even with that. That comes to the issue that happens once in a while where the system fsck is unable to repair /home and you need to use an external pen drive for the same. This is my how my hdd stacks up
/ is on dev/sda7 /boot is on /dev/sda6, /boot/efi is on /dev/sda2 and /home is on /dev/sda8 so theoretically, if /home for some reason doesn t work I should be able drop down on /dev/sda7, unmount /dev/sda8, run fsck and carry on with my work. I tried it number of times but it didn t work. I was dropping down on tty1 and attempting the same, no dice as root/superuser getting the barest x-term. So first I tried asking couple of friends who live nearby me. Unfortunately, both are MS-Windows users and both use what are called as company-owned laptops . Surfing on those systems were a nightmare. Especially the number of pop-ups of ads that the web has become. And to think about how much harassment ublock origin has saved me over the years. One of the more interesting bits from both their devices were showing all and any downloads from fosshub was showing up as malware. I dunno how much of that is true or not as haven t had to use it as most software we get through debian archives or if needed, download from github or wherever and run/install it and you are in business. Some of them even get compiled into a good .deb package but that s outside the conversation atm. My only experience with fosshub was few years before the pandemic and that was good. I dunno if fosshub really has malware or malwarebytes was giving false positives. It also isn t easy to upload a 600 MB+ ISO file somewhere to see whether it really has malware or not. I used to know of a site or two where you could upload a suspicious file and almost 20-30 famous and known antivirus and anti-malware engines would check it and tell you the result. Unfortunately, I have forgotten the URL and seeing things from MS-Windows perspective, things have gotten way worse than before. So left with no choice, I turned to the local LUG for help. Fortunately, my mobile does have e-mail and I could use gmail to solicit help. While there could have been any number of live CD s that could have helped but one of my first experiences with GNU/Linux was that of Knoppix that I had got from Linux For You (now known as OSFY) sometime in 2003. IIRC, had read an interview of Mr. Klaus Knopper as well and was impressed by it. In those days, Debian wasn t accessible to non-technical users then and Knoppix was a good tool to see it. In fact, think he was the first to come up with the idea of a Live CD and run with it while Canonical/Ubuntu took another 2 years to do it. I think both the CD and the interview by distrowatch was shared by LFY in those early days. Of course, later the story changes after he got married, but I think that is more about Adriane rather than Knoppix. So Vishal Rao helped me out. I got an HP USB 3.2 32GB Type C OTG Flash Drive x5600c (Grey & Black) from a local hardware dealer around similar price point. The dealer is a big one and has almost 200+ people scattered around the city doing channel sales who in turn sell to end users. Asking one of the representatives about their opinion on stopping electronic imports (apparently more things were added later to the list including all sorts of sundry items from digital cameras to shavers and whatnot.) The gentleman replied that he hopes that it would not happen otherwise more than 90% would have to leave their jobs. They already have started into lighting fixtures (LED bulbs, tubelights etc.) but even those would come in the same ban  The main argument as have shared before is that Indian Govt. thinks we need our home grown CPU and while I have no issues with that, as shared before except for RISC-V there is no other space where India could look into doing that. Especially after the Chip Act, Biden has made that any new fabs or any new thing in chip fabrication will only be shared with Five Eyes only. Also, while India is looking to generate about 2000 GW by 2030 by solar, China has an ambitious 20,000 GW generation capacity by the end of this year and the Chinese are the ones who are actually driving down the module prices. The Chinese are also automating their factories as if there s no tomorrow. The end result of both is that China will continue to be the world s factory floor for the foreseeable future and whoever may try whatever policies, it probably is gonna be difficult to compete with them on prices of electronic products. That s the reason the U.S. has been trying so that China doesn t get the latest technology but that perhaps is a story for another day.

HP USB 3.2 Type C OTG Flash Drive x5600c For people who have had read this blog they know that most of the flash drives today are MLC Drives and do not have the longevity of the SLC Drives. For those who maybe are new, this short brochure/explainer from Kingston should enhance your understanding. SLC Drives are rare and expensive. There are also a huge number of counterfeit flash drives available in the market and almost all the companies efforts whether it s Kingston, HP or any other manufacturer, they have been like a drop in the bucket. Coming back to the topic at hand. While there are some tools that can help you to figure out whether a pen drive is genuine or not. While there are products that can tell you whether they are genuine or not (basically by probing the memory controller and the info. you get from that.) that probably is a discussion left for another day. It took me couple of days and finally I was able to find time to go Vishal s place. The journey of back and forth lasted almost 6 hours, with crazy traffic jams. Tells you why Pune or specifically the Swargate, Hadapsar patch really needs a Metro. While an in-principle nod has been given, it probably is more than 5-7 years or more before we actually have a functioning metro. Even the current route the Metro has was supposed to be done almost 5 years to the date and even the modified plan was of 3 years ago. And even now, most of the Stations still need a lot of work to be done. PMC, Deccan as examples etc. still have loads to be done. Even PMT (Pune Muncipal Transport) that that is supposed to do the last mile connections via its buses has been putting half-hearted attempts

Vishal Rao While Vishal had apparently seen me and perhaps we had also interacted, this was my first memory of him although we have been on a few boards now and then including stackexchange. He was genuine and warm and shared 4-5 distros with me, including Knoppix and System Rescue as shared by Arun Khan. While this is and was the first time I had heard about Ventoy apparently Vishal has been using it for couple of years now. It s a simple shell script that you need to download and run on your pen drive and then just dump all the .iso images. The easiest way to explain ventoy is that it looks and feels like Grub. Which also reminds me an interaction I had with Vishal on mobile. While troubleshooting the issue, I was unsure whether it was filesystem that was the issue or also systemd was corrupted. Vishal reminded me of putting fastboot to the kernel parameters to see if I m able to boot without fscking and get into userspace i.e. /home. Although journalctl and systemctl were responding even on tty1 still was a bit apprehensive. Using fastboot was able to mount the whole thing and get into userspace and that told me that it s only some of the inodes that need clearing and there probably are some orphaned inodes. While Vishal had got a mini-pc he uses that a server, downloads stuff to it and then downloads stuff from it. From both privacy, backup etc. it is a better way to do things but then you need to laptop to access it. I am sure he probably uses it for virtualization and other ways as well but we just didn t have time for that discussion. Also a mini-pc can set you back anywhere from 25 to 40k depending on the mini-pc and the RAM and the SSD. And you need either a lappy or an Raspberry Pi with some kinda visual display to interact with the mini-pc. While he did share some of the things, there probably could have been a far longer interaction just on that but probably best left for another day. Now at my end, the system I had bought is about 5-6 years old. At that time it only had 6 USB 2.0 drives and 2 USB 3.0 (A) drives.
The above image does tell of the various form factors. One of the other things is that I found the pendrive and its connectors to be extremely fiddly. It took me number of times fiddling around with it when I was finally able to put in and able to access the pen drive partitions. Unfortunately, was unable to see/use systemrescue but Knoppix booted up fine. I mounted the partitions briefly to see where is what and sure enough /dev/sda8 showed my /home files and folders. Unmounted it, then used $fsck -y /dev/sda8 and back in business. This concludes what happened. Updates Quite a bit was left out on the original post, part of which I didn t know and partly stuff which is interesting and perhaps need a blog post of their own. It s sad I won t be part of debconf otherwise who knows what else I would have come to know.
  1. One of the interesting bits that I came to know about last week is the Alibaba T-Head T-Head TH1520 RISC-V CPU and saw it first being demoed on a laptop and then a standalone tablet. The laptop is an interesting proposition considering Alibaba opened up it s chip thing only couple of years ago. To have an SOC within 18 months and then under production for lappies and tablets is practically unheard of especially of a newbie/startup. Even AMD took 3-4 years for its first chip.It seems they (Alibaba) would be parceling them out by quarter end 2023 and another 1000 pieces/Units first quarter next year, while the scale is nothing compared to the behemoths, I think this would be more as a matter of getting feedback on both the hardware and software. The value proposition is much better than what most of us get, at least in India. For example, they are doing a warranty for 5 years and also giving spare parts. RISC-V has been having a lot of resurgence in China in part as its an open standard and partly development will be far cheaper and faster than trying x86 or x86-64. If you look into both the manufacturers, due to monopoly, both of them now give 5-8% increment per year, and if you look back in history, you would find that when more chips were in competition, they used to give 15-20% performance increment per year.
2. While Vishal did share with me what he used and the various ways he uses the mini-pc, I did have a fun speculating on what he could use it. As shared by Romane as his case has shared, the first thing to my mind was backups. Filesystems are notorious in the sense they can be corrupted or can be prone to be corrupted very easily as can be seen above  . Backups certainly make a lot of sense, especially rsync. The other thing that came to my mind was having some sort of A.I. and chat server. IIRC, somebody has put quite a bit of open source public domain data in debian servers that could be used to run either a chatbot or an A.I. or both and use that similar to how chatGPT but with much limited scope than what chatgpt uses. I was also thinking a media server which Vishal did share he does. I may probably visit him sometime to see what choices he did and what he learned in the process, if anything. Another thing that could be done is just take a dump of any of commodity markets or any markets and have some sort of predictive A.I. or whatever. A whole bunch of people have scammed thousands of Indian users on this, but if you do it on your own and for your own purposes to aid you buy and sell stocks or whatever commodity you may fancy. After all, nowadays markets themselves are virtual. While Vishal s mini-pc doesn t have any graphics, if it was an AMD APU mini-pc, something like this he could have hosted games in the way of thick server, thin client where all graphics processing happens on the server rather than the client. With virtual reality I think the case for the same case could be made or much more. The only problem with VR/AR is that we don t really have mass-market googles, eye pieces or headset. The only notable project that Google has/had in that place is the Google VR Cardboard headset and the experience is not that great or at least was not that great few years back when I could hear and experience the same. Most of the VR headsets say for example the Meta Quest 2 is for around INR 44k/- while Quest 3 is INR 50k+ and officially not available. As have shared before, the holy grail of VR would be when it falls below INR 10k/- so it becomes just another accessory, not something you really have to save for. There also isn t much content on that but then that is also the whole chicken or egg situation. This again is a non-stop discussion as so much has been happening in that space it needs its own blog post/article whatever. Till later.

5 August 2023

Bits from Debian: Debian Project Bits Volume 1, Issue 1


Debian Project Bits Volume 1, Issue 1 August 05, 2023 Welcome to the inaugural issue of Debian Project Bits! Those remembering the Debian Weekly News (DwN) will recognize some of the sections here which served as our inspiration. Debian Project Bits posts will allow for a faster turnaround of some project news on a monthly basis. The Debian Micronews service will continue to share shorter news items, the Debian Project News remains as our official newsletter which may move to a biannual archive format. News Debian Day The Debian Project was officially founded by Ian Murdock on August 16, 1993. Since then we have celebrated our Anniversary of that date each year with events around the world. We would love it if you could join our revels this very special year as we have the honor of turning 30! Attend or organize a local Debian Day celebration. You're invited to plan your own event: from Bug Squashing parties to Key Signing parties, Meet-Ups, or any type of social event whether large or small. And be sure to check our Debian reimbursement How To if you need such resources. You can share your days, events, thoughts, or notes with us and the rest of the community with the #debianday tag that will be used across most social media platforms. See you then! Events: Upcoming and Reports Upcoming Debian 30 anos The Debian Brasil Community is organizing the event Debian 30 anos to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the Debian Project. From August 14 to 18, between 7pm and 22pm (UTC-3) contributors will talk online in Portuguese and we will live stream on Debian Brasil YouTube channel. DebConf23: Debian Developers Camp and Conference The 2023 Debian Developers Camp (DebCamp) and Conference (DebConf23) will be hosted this year in Infopark, Kochi, India. DebCamp is slated to run from September 3 through 9, immediately followed by the larger DebConf, September 10 through 17. If you are planning on attending the conference this year, now is the time to ensure your travel documentation, visa information, bursary submissions, papers and relevant equipment are prepared. For more information contact: debconf@debconf. MiniDebConf Cambridge 2023 There will be a MiniDebConf held in Cambridge, UK, hosted by ARM for 4 days in November: 2 days for a mini-DebCamp (Thu 23 - Fri 24), with space for dedicated development / sprint / team meetings, then two days for a more regular MiniDebConf (Sat 25 - Sun 26) with space for more general talks, up to 80 people. Reports During the last months, the Debian Community has organized some Bug Squashing Parties:
Tilburg, Netherlands. October 2022. St-Cergue, Switzerland. January 2023 Montreal, Canada. February 2023 In January, Debian India hosted the MiniDebConf Tamil Nadu in Viluppuram, Tamil Nadu, India (Sat 28 - Sun 26). The following month, the MiniDebConf Portugal 2023 was held in Lisbon (12 - 16 February 2023). These events, seen as a stunning success by some of their attendees, demonstrate the vitality of our community.
Debian Brasil Community at Campus Party Brazil 2023 Another edition of Campus Party Brazil took place in the city of S o Paulo between July 25th and 30th. And one more time the Debian Brazil Community was present. During the days in the available space, we carry out some activities such as: For more info and a few photos, check out the organizers' report. MiniDebConf Bras lia 2023 From May 25 to 27, Bras lia hosted the MiniDebConf Bras lia 2023. This gathering was composed of various activities such as talks, workshops, sprints, BSPs (Bug Squashing Party), key signings, social events, and hacking, aimed to bring the community together and celebrate the world's largest Free Software project: Debian. For more information please see the full report written by the organizers. Debian Reunion Hamburg 2023 This year the annual Debian Reunion Hamburg was held from Tuesday 23 to 30 May starting with four days of hacking followed by two days of talks, and then two more days of hacking. As usual, people - more than forty-five attendees from Germany, Czechia, France, Slovakia, and Switzerland - were happy to meet in person, to hack and chat together, and much more. If you missed the live streams, the video recordings are available. Translation workshops from the pt_BR team The Brazilian translation team, debian-l10n-portuguese, had their first workshop of 2023 in February with great results. The workshop was aimed at beginners, working in DDTP/DDTSS. For more information please see the full report written by the organizers. And on June 13 another workshop took place to translate The Debian Administrator's Handbook). The main goal was to show beginners how to collaborate in the translation of this important material, which has existed since 2004. The manual's translations are hosted on Weblate. Releases Stable Release Debian 12 bookworm was released on June 10, 2023. This new version becomes the stable release of Debian and moves the prior Debian 11 bullseye release to oldstable status. The Debian community celebrated the release with 23 Release Parties all around the world. Bookworm's first point release 12.1 address miscellaneous bug fixes affecting 88 packages, documentation, and installer updates was made available on July 22, 2023. RISC-V support riscv64 has recently been added to the official Debian architectures for support of 64-bit little-endian RISC-V hardware running the Linux kernel. We expect to have full riscv64 support in Debian 13 trixie. Updates on bootstrap, build daemon, porterbox, and development progress were recently shared by the team in a Bits from the Debian riscv64 porters post. non-free-firmware The Debian 12 bookworm archive now includes non-free-firmware; please be sure to update your apt sources.list if your systems requires such components for operation. If your previous sources.list included non-free for this purpose it may safely be removed. apt sources.list The Debian archive holds several components: Example of the sources.list file
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm main
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm main
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian-security/ bookworm-security main
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian-security/ bookworm-security main
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm-updates main
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm-updates main
Example using the components:
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm main non-free-firmware
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm main non-free-firmware
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian-security/ bookworm-security main non-free-firmware
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian-security/ bookworm-security main non-free-firmware
deb http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm-updates main non-free-firmware
deb-src http://deb.debian.org/debian bookworm-updates main non-free-firmware
For more information and guidelines on proper configuration of the apt source.list file please see the Configuring Apt Sources - Wiki page. Inside Debian New Debian Members Please welcome the following newest Debian Project Members: To find out more about our newest members or any Debian Developer, look for them on the Debian People list. Security Debian's Security Team releases current advisories on a daily basis. Some recently released advisories concern these packages: trafficserver Several vulnerabilities were discovered in Apache Traffic Server, a reverse and forward proxy server, which could result in information disclosure or denial of service. asterisk A flaw was found in Asterisk, an Open Source Private Branch Exchange. A buffer overflow vulnerability affects users that use PJSIP DNS resolver. This vulnerability is related to CVE-2022-24793. The difference is that this issue is in parsing the query record parse_query(), while the issue in CVE-2022-24793 is in parse_rr(). A workaround is to disable DNS resolution in PJSIP config (by setting nameserver_count to zero) or use an external resolver implementation instead. flask It was discovered that in some conditions the Flask web framework may disclose a session cookie. chromium Multiple security issues were discovered in Chromium, which could result in the execution of arbitrary code, denial of service or information disclosure. Other Popular packages gpgv - GNU privacy guard signature verification tool. 99,053 installations. gpgv is actually a stripped-down version of gpg which is only able to check signatures. It is somewhat smaller than the fully-blown gpg and uses a different (and simpler) way to check that the public keys used to make the signature are valid. There are no configuration files and only a few options are implemented. dmsetup - Linux Kernel Device Mapper userspace library. 77,769 installations. The Linux Kernel Device Mapper is the LVM (Linux Logical Volume Management) Team's implementation of a minimalistic kernel-space driver that handles volume management, while keeping knowledge of the underlying device layout in user-space. This makes it useful for not only LVM, but software raid, and other drivers that create "virtual" block devices. sensible-utils - Utilities for sensible alternative selection. 96,001 daily users. This package provides a number of small utilities which are used by programs to sensibly select and spawn an appropriate browser, editor, or pager. The specific utilities included are: sensible-browser sensible-editor sensible-pager. popularity-contest - The popularity-contest package. 90,758 daily users. The popularity-contest package sets up a cron job that will periodically anonymously submit to the Debian developers statistics about the most used Debian packages on the system. This information helps Debian make decisions such as which packages should go on the first CD. It also lets Debian improve future versions of the distribution so that the most popular packages are the ones which are installed automatically for new users. New and noteworthy packages in unstable Toolkit for scalable simulation of distributed applications SimGrid is a toolkit that provides core functionalities for the simulation of distributed applications in heterogeneous distributed environments. SimGrid can be used as a Grid simulator, a P2P simulator, a Cloud simulator, a MPI simulator, or a mix of all of them. The typical use-cases of SimGrid include heuristic evaluation, application prototyping, and real application development and tuning. This package contains the dynamic libraries and runtime. LDraw mklist program 3D CAD programs and rendering programs using the LDraw parts library of LEGO parts rely on a file called parts.lst containing a list of all available parts. The program ldraw-mklist is used to generate this list from a directory of LDraw parts. Open Lighting Architecture - RDM Responder Tests The DMX512 standard for Digital MultipleX is used for digital communication networks commonly used to control stage lighting and effects. The Remote Device Management protocol is an extension to DMX512, allowing bi-directional communication between RDM-compliant devices without disturbing other devices on the same connection. The Open Lighting Architecture (OLA) provides a plugin framework for distributing DMX512 control signals. The ola-rdm-tests package provides an automated way to check protocol compliance in RDM devices. parsec-service Parsec is an abstraction layer that can be used to interact with hardware-backed security facilities such as the Hardware Security Module (HSM), the Trusted Platform Module (TPM), as well as firmware-backed and isolated software services. The core component of Parsec is the security service, provided by this package. The service is a background process that runs on the host platform and provides connectivity with the secure facilities of that host, exposing a platform-neutral API that can be consumed into different programming languages using a client library. For a client library implemented in Rust see the package librust-parsec-interface-dev. Simple network calculator and lookup tool Process and lookup network addresses from the command line or CSV with ripalc. Output has a variety of customisable formats. High performance, open source CPU/GPU miner and RandomX benchmark XMRig is a high performance, open source, cross platform RandomX, KawPow, CryptoNight, and GhostRider unified CPU/GPU miner and RandomX benchmark. Ping, but with a graph - Rust source code This package contains the source for the Rust gping crate, packaged by debcargo for use with cargo and dh-cargo. Once upon a time in Debian: 2014-07-31 The Technical committee choose libjpeg-turbo as the default JPEG decoder. 2010-08-01 DebConf10 starts New York City, USA 2007-08-05 Debian Maintainers approved by vote 2009-08-05 Jeff Chimene files bug #540000 against live-initramfs. Calls for help The Publicity team calls for volunteers and help! Your Publicity team is asking for help from you our readers, developers, and interested parties to contribute to the Debian news effort. We implore you to submit items that may be of interest to our community and also ask for your assistance with translations of the news into (your!) other languages along with the needed second or third set of eyes to assist in editing our work before publishing. If you can share a small amount of your time to aid our team which strives to keep all of us informed, we need you. Please reach out to us via IRC on #debian-publicity on OFTC.net, or our public mailing list, or via email at press@debian.org for sensitive or private inquiries.

8 July 2023

Dirk Eddelbuettel: #40: Another r2u Example Making Colab Easier

Welcome to the 40th post in the $R^4 series. This one will just be a very brief illustration of r2u use in what might be an unexpected place: Google Colab. Colab has a strong bent towards Jupyter and Python but has been supporting R compute kernels for some time (by changing what they call the runtime ). And with a little exploration one can identify these are (currently, as of July 2023) running Ubuntu 20.04 aka focal . Which is of course one of two system supported by our lovely r2u project (with the other being the newer 22.04 aka jammy ). And I mostly tweeted / tooted about r2u since the its introduction in #37. And gave basically just a mention in passing in faster feedback post #38 as well as the faster feedback in ci post #39). So a brief recap may be in order. In essence, r2u makes all of CRAN available as full-fledged Ubuntu binaries with complete and full dependencies which are then installed directly and quickly via apt. Which, to top it of, are accessed directly from R via install.packages() so no special knowledge or sauce needed. We often summarize it as fast, easy, reliable: what is not to like . And, as we established in a few minutes of probing, it also works in the focal -based Colab session. The screen shot shows the basic step of fetching the setup script (for plain Ubuntu focal system) from r2u, making it executable and running it. Total time: 34 seconds. And after that we see the pure magic of install.packages("tidyverse") installing all of it in nine seconds. Additionally, we add the brms package in thirty-one seconds cia install.packages("brms"). Both load just fine and echo their current values.
r2u on colab focal r2u on colab focal
The commands that are executed in that R session are just
download.file("https://github.com/eddelbuettel/r2u/raw/master/inst/scripts/add_cranapt_focal.sh",
              "add_cranapt_focal.sh")
Sys.chmod("add_cranapt_focal.sh", "0755")
system("./add_cranapt_focal.sh")
install.packages("tidyverse")
library(tidyverse)
install.packages("brms")
library(brms)
The timings are the Colab notebook are visible in the left margin. The lack of output makes debugging a little trickier so I still recommend to use r2u for first expploration via a Docker container as e.g. rocker/r2u:jammy. More information about r2u is at its site, and we answered some question in issues, and at stackoverflow. More questions are always welcome! If you like this or other open-source work I do, you can now sponsor me at GitHub.

This post by Dirk Eddelbuettel originated on his Thinking inside the box blog. Please report excessive re-aggregation in third-party for-profit settings.

14 April 2023

Russ Allbery: Review: Babel

Review: Babel, by R.F. Kuang
Publisher: Harper Voyage
Copyright: August 2022
ISBN: 0-06-302144-7
Format: Kindle
Pages: 544
Babel, or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution, to give it its full title, is a standalone dark academia fantasy set in the 1830s and 1840s, primarily in Oxford, England. The first book of R.F. Kuang's previous trilogy, The Poppy War, was nominated for multiple awards and won the Compton Crook Award for best first novel. Babel is her fourth book. Robin Swift, although that was not his name at the time, was born and raised in Canton and educated by an inexplicable English tutor his family could not have afforded. After his entire family dies of cholera, he is plucked from China by a British professor and offered a life in England as his ward. What follows is a paradise of books, a hell of relentless and demanding instruction, and an unpredictably abusive emotional environment, all aiming him towards admission to Oxford University. Robin will join University College and the Royal Institute of Translation. The politics of this imperial Britain are almost precisely the same as in our history, but one of the engines is profoundly different. This world has magic. If words from two different languages are engraved on a metal bar (silver is best), the meaning and nuance lost in translation becomes magical power. With a careful choice of translation pairs, and sometimes additional help from other related words and techniques, the silver bar becomes a persistent spell. Britain's industrial revolution is in overdrive thanks to the country's vast stores of silver and the applied translation prowess of Babel. This means Babel is also the only part of very racist Oxford that accepts non-white students and women. They need translators (barely) more than they care about maintaining social hierarchy; translation pairs only work when the translator is fluent in both languages. The magic is also stronger when meanings are more distinct, which is creating serious worries about classical and European languages. Those are still the bulk of Babel's work, but increased trade and communication within Europe is eroding the meaning distinctions and thus the amount of magical power. More remote languages, such as Chinese and Urdu, are full of untapped promise that Britain's colonial empire wants to capture. Professor Lowell, Robin's dubious benefactor, is a specialist in Chinese languages; Robin is a potential tool for his plans. As Robin discovers shortly after arriving in Oxford, he is not the first of Lowell's tools. His predecessor turned against Babel and is trying to break its chokehold on translation magic. He wants Robin to help. This is one of those books that is hard to review because it does some things exceptionally well and other things that did not work for me. It's not obvious if the latter are flaws in the book or a mismatch between book and reader (or, frankly, flaws in the reader). I'll try to explain as best I can so that you can draw your own conclusions. First, this is one of the all-time great magical system hooks. The way words are tapped for power is fully fleshed out and exceptionally well-done. Kuang is a professional translator, which shows in the attention to detail on translation pairs. I think this is the best-constructed and explained word-based magic system I've read in fantasy. Many word-based systems treat magic as its own separate language that is weirdly universal. Here, Kuang does the exact opposite, and the result is immensely satisfying. A fantasy reader may expect exploration of this magic system to be the primary point of the book, however, and this is not the case. It is an important part of the book, and its implications are essential to the plot resolution, but this is not the type of fantasy novel where the plot is driven by character exploration of the magic system. The magic system exists, the characters use it, and we do get some crunchy details, but the heart of the book is elsewhere. If you were expecting the typical relationship of a fantasy novel to its magic system, you may get a bit wrong-footed. Similarly, this is historical fantasy, but it is the type of historical fantasy where the existence of magic causes no significant differences. For some people, this is a pet peeve; personally, I don't mind that choice in the abstract, but some of the specifics bugged me. The villains of this book assert that any country could have done what Britain did in developing translation magic, and thus their hoarding of it is not immoral. They are obviously partly lying (this is a classic justification for imperialism), but it's not clear from the book how they are lying. Technologies (and magic here works like a technology) tend to concentrate power when they require significant capital investment, and tend to dilute power when they are portable and easy to teach. Translation magic feels like the latter, but its effect in the book is clearly the former, and I was never sure why. England is not an obvious choice to be a translation superpower. Yes, it's a colonial empire, but India, southeast Asia, and most certainly Africa (the continent largely not appearing in this book) are home to considerably more languages from more wildly disparate families than western Europe. Translation is not a peculiarly European idea, and this magic system does not seem hard to stumble across. It's not clear why England, and Oxford in particular, is so dramatically far ahead. There is some sign that Babel is keeping the mechanics of translation magic secret, but that secret has leaked, seems easy to develop independently, and is simple enough that a new student can perform basic magic with a few hours of instruction. This does not feel like the kind of power that would be easy to concentrate, let alone to the extreme extent required by the last quarter of this book. The demand for silver as a base material for translation magic provides a justification for mercantilism that avoids the confusing complexities of currency economics in our actual history, so fine, I guess, but it was a bit disappointing for this great of an idea for a magic system to have this small of an impact on politics. I'll come to the actual thrust of this book in a moment, but first something else Babel does exceptionally well: dark academia. The remainder of Robin's cohort at Oxford is Remy, a dark-skinned Muslim from Calcutta; Victoire, a Haitian woman raised in France; and Letty, the daughter of a British admiral. All of them are non-white except Letty, and Letty and Victoire additionally have to deal with the blatant sexism of the time. (For example, they have to live several miles from Oxford because women living near the college would be a "distraction.") The interpersonal dynamics between the four are exceptionally well done. Kuang captures the dislocation of going away to college, the unsettled life upheaval that makes it both easy and vital to form suddenly tight friendships, and the way that the immense pressure from classes and exams leaves one so devoid of spare emotional capacity that those friendships become both unbreakable and badly strained. Robin and Remy almost immediately become inseparable in that type of college friendship in which profound trust and constant companionship happen first and learning about the other person happens afterwards. It's tricky to talk about this without spoilers, but one of the things Kuang sets up with this friend group is a pointed look at intersectionality. Babel has gotten a lot of positive review buzz, and I think this is one of the reasons why. Kuang does not pass over or make excuses for characters in a place where many other books do. This mostly worked for me, but with a substantial caveat that I think you may want to be aware of before you dive into this book. Babel is set in the 1830s, but it is very much about the politics of 2022. That does not necessarily mean that the politics are off for the 1830s; I haven't done the research to know, and it's possible I'm seeing the Tiffany problem (Jo Walton's observation that Tiffany is a historical 12th century women's name, but an author can't use it as a medieval name because readers think it sounds too modern). But I found it hard to shake the feeling that the characters make sense of their world using modern analytical frameworks of imperialism, racism, sexism, and intersectional feminism, although without using modern terminology, and characters from the 1830s would react somewhat differently. This is a valid authorial choice; all books are written for the readers of the time when they're published. But as with magical systems that don't change history, it's a pet peeve for some readers. If that's you, be aware that's the feel I got from it. The true center of this book is not the magic system or the history. It's advertised directly in the title the necessity of violence although it's not until well into the book before the reader knows what that means. This is a book about revolution, what revolution means, what decisions you have to make along the way, how the personal affects the political, and the inadequacy of reform politics. It is hard, uncomfortable, and not gentle on its characters. The last quarter of this book was exceptional, and I understand why it's getting so much attention. Kuang directly confronts the desire for someone else to do the necessary work, the hope that surely the people with power will see reason, and the feeling of despair when there are no good plans and every reason to wait and do nothing when atrocities are about to happen. If you are familiar with radical politics, these aren't new questions, but this is not the sort of thing that normally shows up in fantasy. It does not surprise me that Babel struck a nerve with readers a generation or two younger than me. It captures that heady feeling on the cusp of adulthood when everything is in flux and one is assembling an independent politics for the first time. Once I neared the end of the book, I could not put it down. The ending is brutal, but I think it was the right ending for this book. There are two things, though, that I did not like about the political arc. The first is that Victoire is a much more interesting character than Robin, but is sidelined for most of the book. The difference of perspectives between her and Robin is the heart of what makes the end of this book so good, and I wish that had started 300 pages earlier. Or, even better, I wish Victoire has been the protagonist; I liked Robin, but he's a very predictable character for most of the book. Victoire is not; even the conflicts she had earlier in the book, when she didn't get much attention in the story, felt more dynamic and more thoughtful than Robin's mix of guilt and anxiety. The second is that I wish Kuang had shown more of Robin's intellectual evolution. All of the pieces of why he makes the decisions that he does are present in this book, and Kuang shows his emotional state (sometimes in agonizing detail) at each step, but the sense-making, the development of theory and ideology beneath the actions, is hinted at but not shown. This is a stylistic choice with no one right answer, but it felt odd because so much of the rest of the plot is obvious and telegraphed. If the reader shares Robin's perspective, I think it's easy to fill in the gaps, but it felt odd to read Robin giving clearly thought-out political analyses at the end of the book without seeing the hashing-out and argument with friends required to develop those analyses. I felt like I had to do a lot of heavy lifting as the reader, work that I wish had been done directly by the book. My final note about this book is that I found much of it extremely predictable. I think that's part of why reviewers describe it as accessible and easy to read; accessibility and predictability can be two sides of the same coin. Kuang did not intend for this book to be subtle, and I think that's part of the appeal. But very few of Robin's actions for the first three-quarters of the book surprised me, and that's not always the reading experience I want. The end of the book is different, and I therefore found it much more gripping, but it takes a while to get there. Babel is, for better or worse, the type of fantasy where the politics, economics, and magic system exist primarily to justify the plot the author wanted. I don't think the societal position of the Institute of Translation that makes the ending possible is that believable given the nature of the technology in question and the politics of the time, and if you are inclined to dig into the specifics of the world-building, I think you will find it frustrating. Where it succeeds brilliantly is in capturing the social dynamics of hothouse academic cohorts, and in making a sharp and unfortunately timely argument about the role of violence in political change, in a way that the traditionally conservative setting of fantasy rarely does. I can't say Babel blew me away, but I can see why others liked it so much. If I had to guess, I'd say that the closer one is in age to the characters in the book and to that moment of political identity construction, the more it's likely to appeal. Rating: 7 out of 10

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.

25 December 2022

Russ Allbery: podlators 5.01

podlators is the Perl distribution providing Pod::Man and Pod::Text, along with related modules and supporting scripts. The primary change in this release is the addition of configurable guesswork for Pod::Text, paralleling Pod::Man. I had forgotten that Pod::Text also had complex heuristics for whether to quote C<> text that have the same Perl-specific properties as Pod::Man. This is now configurable via a guesswork option, the same as in Pod::Man, although the only type of guesswork supported is quoting. I also updated the default regexes, which include some fixes from Pod::Man. Thanks to discussion with G. Branden Robinson, I now understand quoting in roff considerably better, which let me fix a few obscure bugs with strange page titles or configured quote characters. Pod::Man now avoids quoting macro arguments when the quoting is unnecessary, which should hopefully produce slightly more readable output. Finally, I had started using a Pod::Simple feature introduced in 3.26 in Pod::Text but forgot to update the dependency, resulting in test failures on some old versions of Perl. (The same tests didn't fail in GitHub CI, which is probably related to how I install dependencies.) That's been fixed in this release. You can get the latest version from CPAN or from the podlators distribution page.

23 November 2022

Fran ois Marier: Name resolution errors in Ubuntu repositories while building a docker container

I ran into what seemed to be a DNS problem when building a Docker container:
Err http://archive.ubuntu.com jammy Release.gpg
  Could not resolve 'archive.ubuntu.com'
W: Failed to fetch http://archive.ubuntu.com/ubuntu/dists/jammy/Release.gpg  Could not resolve 'archive.ubuntu.com'
W: Some index files failed to download. They have been ignored, or old ones used instead.
I found that many solutions talked about setting the default DNS server explicitly in /etc/docker/daemon.json:
 
    "dns": ["1.1.1.1"]
 
but that didn't work for me. I noticed however that I was having these problems whenever I connected to my VPN. So what did work for me was restarting the docker daemon whenever there is a change in networking (e.g. enabling/disabling VPN) by putting the following in /etc/NetworkManager/dispatcher.d/docker-local:
#!/bin/sh
LOGFILE=/var/log/docker-restarts.log
if [ -z "$1" ]; then
    echo "$0: called with no interface" >> $LOGFILE
    exit 1;
fi
if [ "$1" = lo ]; then
    # Ignoring the loopback interface
    exit 0;
fi
case "$2" in
    up vpn-up down vpn-down)
        echo "$0: restarting docker due to action \ $2' on interface \ $1'" >> $LOGFILE
        /bin/systemctl restart docker.service
        ;;
    *)
        echo "$0: ignoring action \ $2' on interface \ $1'" >> $LOGFILE
        ;;
esac
and then making that new file executable:
chmod +x /etc/NetworkManager/dispatcher.d/docker-local
You can confirm that it's working as intended by watching the logs:
tail -f /var/log/docker-restarts.log
while enabling/disable your VPN or your network connection. If you don't see any output, then something is wrong and the Docker restart isn't happening.

10 November 2022

Melissa Wen: V3D enablement in mainline kernel

Hey, If you enjoy using upstream Linux kernel in your Raspberry Pi system or just want to give a try in the freshest kernel graphics drivers there, the good news is that now you can compile and boot the V3D driver from the mainline in your Raspberry Pi 4. Thanks to the work of Stefan, Peter and Nicolas [1] [2], the V3D enablement reached the Linux kernel mainline. That means hacking and using new features available in the upstream V3D driver directly from the source. However, even for those used to compiling and installing a custom kernel in the Raspberry Pi, there are some quirks to getting the mainline v3d module available in 32-bit and 64-bit systems. I ve quickly summarized how to compile and install upstream kernel versions (>=6.0) in this short blog post.
Note: V3D driver is not present in Raspberry Pi models 0-3.
First, I m taking into account that you already know how to cross-compile a custom kernel to your system. If it is not your case, a good tutorial is already available in the Raspberry Pi documentation, but it targets the kernel in the rpi-linux repository (downstream kernel). From this documentation, the main differences in the upstream kernel are presented below:

Raspberry Pi 4 64-bit (arm64)

Diff short summary:
  1. instead of getting the .config file from bcm2711_defconfig, get it by running make ARCH=arm64 defconfig
  2. compile and install the kernel image and modules as usual, but just copy the dtb file arch/arm64/boot/dts/broadcom/bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb to the /boot of your target machine (no /overlays directory to copy)
  3. change /boot/config.txt:
    • comment/remove the dt_overlay=vc4-kms-v3d entry
    • add a device_tree=bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb entry

Raspberry Pi 4 32-bits (arm)

Diff short summary:
  1. get the .config file by running make ARCH=arm multi_v7_defconfig
  2. using make ARCH=arm menuconfig or a similar tool, enable CONFIG_ARM_LPAE=y
  3. compile and install the kernel image and modules as usual, but just copy the dtb file arch/arm/boot/dts/bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb to the /boot of your target machine (no /overlays directory to copy)
  4. change /boot/config.txt:
    • comment/remove the dt_overlay=vc4-kms-v3d entry
    • add a device_tree=bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb entry

Step-by-step for remote deployment:

Set variables Raspberry Pi 4 64-bit (arm64)
cd <path-to-upstream-linux-directory>
KERNEL= make kernelrelease 
ARCH="arm64"
CROSS_COMPILE="aarch64-linux-gnu-"
DEFCONFIG=defconfig
IMAGE=Image
DTB_PATH="broadcom/bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb"
RPI4=<ip>
TMP= mktemp -d 
Raspberry Pi 4 32-bits (arm)
cd <path-to-upstream-linux-directory>
KERNEL= make kernelrelease 
ARCH="arm"
CROSS_COMPILE="arm-linux-gnueabihf-"
DEFCONFIG=multi_v7_defconfig
IMAGE=zImage
DTB_PATH="bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb"
RPI4=<ip>
TMP= mktemp -d 

Get default .config file
make ARCH=$ARCH CROSS_COMPILE=$CROSS_COMPILE $DEFCONFIG
Raspberry Pi 4 32-bit (arm) Additional step for 32-bit system. Enable CONFIG_ARM_LPAE=y using make ARCH=arm menuconfig

Cross-compile the mainline kernel
make ARCH=$ARCH CROSS_COMPILE=$CROSS_COMPILE $IMAGE modules dtbs

Install modules to send
make ARCH=$ARCH CROSS_COMPILE=$CROSS_COMPILE INSTALL_MOD_PATH=$TMP modules_install

Copy kernel image, modules and the dtb to your remote system
ssh $RPI4 mkdir -p /tmp/new_modules /tmp/new_kernel
rsync -av $TMP/ $RPI4:/tmp/new_modules/
scp arch/$ARCH/boot/$IMAGE $RPI4:/tmp/new_kernel/$KERNEL
scp arch/$ARCH/boot/dts/$DTB_PATH $RPI4:/tmp/new_kernel
ssh $RPI4 sudo rsync -av /tmp/new_modules/lib/modules/ /lib/modules/
ssh $RPI4 sudo rsync -av /tmp/new_kernel/ /boot/
rm -rf $TMP

Set config.txt of you RPi 4 In your Raspberry Pi 4, open the config file /boot/config.txt
  • comment/remove the dt_overlay=vc4-kms-v3d entry
  • add a device_tree=bcm2711-rpi-4-b.dtb entry
  • add a kernel=<image-name> entry

Why not Kworkflow? You can safely use the steps above, but if you are hacking the kernel and need to repeat this compiling and installing steps repeatedly, why don t try the Kworkflow? Kworkflow is a set of scripts to synthesize all steps to have a custom kernel compiled and installed in local and remote machines and it supports kernel building and deployment to Raspberry Pi machines for Raspbian 32 bit and 64 bit. After learning the kernel compilation and installation step by step, you can simply use kw bd command and have a custom kernel installed in your Raspberry Pi 4.
Note: the userspace 3D acceleration (glx/mesa) is working as expected on arm64, but the driver is not loaded yet for arm. Besides that, a bunch of pte invalid errors may appear when using 3D acceleration, it s a known issue that are still under investigation.

26 September 2022

Bits from Debian: New Debian Developers and Maintainers (July and August 2022)

The following contributors got their Debian Developer accounts in the last two months: The following contributors were added as Debian Maintainers in the last two months: Congratulations!

16 January 2022

Chris Lamb: Favourite films of 2021

In my four most recent posts, I went over the memoirs and biographies, the non-fiction, the fiction and the 'classic' novels that I enjoyed reading the most in 2021. But in the very last of my 2021 roundup posts, I'll be going over some of my favourite movies. (Saying that, these are perhaps less of my 'favourite films' than the ones worth remarking on after all, nobody needs to hear that The Godfather is a good movie.) It's probably helpful to remark you that I took a self-directed course in film history in 2021, based around the first volume of Roger Ebert's The Great Movies. This collection of 100-odd movie essays aims to make a tour of the landmarks of the first century of cinema, and I watched all but a handul before the year was out. I am slowly making my way through volume two in 2022. This tome was tremendously useful, and not simply due to the background context that Ebert added to each film: it also brought me into contact with films I would have hardly come through some other means. Would I have ever discovered the sly comedy of Trouble in Paradise (1932) or the touching proto-realism of L'Atalante (1934) any other way? It also helped me to 'get around' to watching films I may have put off watching forever the influential Battleship Potemkin (1925), for instance, and the ur-epic Lawrence of Arabia (1962) spring to mind here. Choosing a 'worst' film is perhaps more difficult than choosing the best. There are first those that left me completely dry (Ready or Not, Written on the Wind, etc.), and those that were simply poorly executed. And there are those that failed to meet their own high opinions of themselves, such as the 'made for Reddit' Tenet (2020) or the inscrutable Vanilla Sky (2001) the latter being an almost perfect example of late-20th century cultural exhaustion. But I must save my most severe judgement for those films where I took a visceral dislike how their subjects were portrayed. The sexually problematic Sixteen Candles (1984) and the pseudo-Catholic vigilantism of The Boondock Saints (1999) both spring to mind here, the latter of which combines so many things I dislike into such a short running time I'd need an entire essay to adequately express how much I disliked it.

Dogtooth (2009) A father, a mother, a brother and two sisters live in a large and affluent house behind a very high wall and an always-locked gate. Only the father ever leaves the property, driving to the factory that he happens to own. Dogtooth goes far beyond any allusion to Josef Fritzl's cellar, though, as the children's education is a grotesque parody of home-schooling. Here, the parents deliberately teach their children the wrong meaning of words (e.g. a yellow flower is called a 'zombie'), all of which renders the outside world utterly meaningless and unreadable, and completely mystifying its very existence. It is this creepy strangeness within a 'regular' family unit in Dogtooth that is both socially and epistemically horrific, and I'll say nothing here of its sexual elements as well. Despite its cold, inscrutable and deadpan surreality, Dogtooth invites all manner of potential interpretations. Is this film about the artificiality of the nuclear family that the West insists is the benchmark of normality? Or is it, as I prefer to believe, something more visceral altogether: an allegory for the various forms of ontological violence wrought by fascism, as well a sobering nod towards some of fascism's inherent appeals? (Perhaps it is both. In 1972, French poststructuralists Gilles and F lix Guattari wrote Anti-Oedipus, which plays with the idea of the family unit as a metaphor for the authoritarian state.) The Greek-language Dogtooth, elegantly shot, thankfully provides no easy answers.

Holy Motors (2012) There is an infamous scene in Un Chien Andalou, the 1929 film collaboration between Luis Bu uel and famed artist Salvador Dal . A young woman is cornered in her own apartment by a threatening man, and she reaches for a tennis racquet in self-defence. But the man suddenly picks up two nearby ropes and drags into the frame two large grand pianos... each leaden with a dead donkey, a stone tablet, a pumpkin and a bewildered priest. This bizarre sketch serves as a better introduction to Leos Carax's Holy Motors than any elementary outline of its plot, which ostensibly follows 24 hours in the life of a man who must play a number of extremely diverse roles around Paris... all for no apparent reason. (And is he even a man?) Surrealism as an art movement gets a pretty bad wrap these days, and perhaps justifiably so. But Holy Motors and Un Chien Andalou serve as a good reminder that surrealism can be, well, 'good, actually'. And if not quite high art, Holy Motors at least demonstrates that surrealism can still unnerving and hilariously funny. Indeed, recalling the whimsy of the plot to a close friend, the tears of laughter came unbidden to my eyes once again. ("And then the limousines...!") Still, it is unclear how Holy Motors truly refreshes surrealism for the twenty-first century. Surrealism was, in part, a reaction to the mechanical and unfeeling brutality of World War I and ultimately sought to release the creative potential of the unconscious mind. Holy Motors cannot be responding to another continental conflagration, and so it appears to me to be some kind of commentary on the roles we exhibit in an era of 'post-postmodernity': a sketch on our age of performative authenticity, perhaps, or an idle doodle on the function and psychosocial function of work. Or perhaps not. After all, this film was produced in a time that offers the near-universal availability of mind-altering substances, and this certainly changes the context in which this film was both created. And, how can I put it, was intended to be watched.

Manchester by the Sea (2016) An absolutely devastating portrayal of a character who is unable to forgive himself and is hesitant to engage with anyone ever again. It features a near-ideal balance between portraying unrecoverable anguish and tender warmth, and is paradoxically grandiose in its subtle intimacy. The mechanics of life led me to watch this lying on a bed in a chain hotel by Heathrow Airport, and if this colourless circumstance blunted the film's emotional impact on me, I am probably thankful for it. Indeed, I find myself reduced in this review to fatuously recalling my favourite interactions instead of providing any real commentary. You could write a whole essay about one particular incident: its surfaces, subtexts and angles... all despite nothing of any substance ever being communicated. Truly stunning.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971) Roger Ebert called this movie one of the saddest films I have ever seen, filled with a yearning for love and home that will not ever come. But whilst it is difficult to disagree with his sentiment, Ebert's choice of sad is somehow not quite the right word. Indeed, I've long regretted that our dictionaries don't have more nuanced blends of tragedy and sadness; perhaps the Ancient Greeks can loan us some. Nevertheless, the plot of this film is of a gambler and a prostitute who become business partners in a new and remote mining town called Presbyterian Church. However, as their town and enterprise booms, it comes to the attention of a large mining corporation who want to bully or buy their way into the action. What makes this film stand out is not the plot itself, however, but its mood and tone the town and its inhabitants seem to be thrown together out of raw lumber, covered alternatively in mud or frozen ice, and their days (and their personalities) are both short and dark in equal measure. As a brief aside, if you haven't seen a Roger Altman film before, this has all the trappings of being a good introduction. As Ebert went on to observe: This is not the kind of movie where the characters are introduced. They are all already here. Furthermore, we can see some of Altman's trademark conversations that overlap, a superb handling of ensemble casts, and a quietly subversive view of the tyranny of 'genre'... and the latter in a time when the appetite for revisionist portrays of the West was not very strong. All of these 'Altmanian' trademarks can be ordered in much stronger measures in his later films: in particular, his comedy-drama Nashville (1975) has 24 main characters, and my jejune interpretation of Gosford Park (2001) is that it is purposefully designed to poke fun those who take a reductionist view of 'genre', or at least on the audience's expectations. (In this case, an Edwardian-era English murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie, but where no real murder or detection really takes place.) On the other hand, McCabe & Mrs. Miller is actually a poor introduction to Altman. The story is told in a suitable deliberate and slow tempo, and the two stars of the film are shown thoroughly defrocked of any 'star status', in both the visual and moral dimensions. All of these traits are, however, this film's strength, adding up to a credible, fascinating and riveting portrayal of the old West.

Detour (1945) Detour was filmed in less than a week, and it's difficult to decide out of the actors and the screenplay which is its weakest point.... Yet it still somehow seemed to drag me in. The plot revolves around luckless Al who is hitchhiking to California. Al gets a lift from a man called Haskell who quickly falls down dead from a heart attack. Al quickly buries the body and takes Haskell's money, car and identification, believing that the police will believe Al murdered him. An unstable element is soon introduced in the guise of Vera, who, through a set of coincidences that stretches credulity, knows that this 'new' Haskell (ie. Al pretending to be him) is not who he seems. Vera then attaches herself to Al in order to blackmail him, and the world starts to spin out of his control. It must be understood that none of this is executed very well. Rather, what makes Detour so interesting to watch is that its 'errors' lend a distinctively creepy and unnatural hue to the film. Indeed, in the early twentieth century, Sigmund Freud used the word unheimlich to describe the experience of something that is not simply mysterious, but something creepy in a strangely familiar way. This is almost the perfect description of watching Detour its eerie nature means that we are not only frequently second-guessed about where the film is going, but are often uncertain whether we are watching the usual objective perspective offered by cinema. In particular, are all the ham-fisted segues, stilted dialogue and inscrutable character motivations actually a product of Al inventing a story for the viewer? Did he murder Haskell after all, despite the film 'showing' us that Haskell died of natural causes? In other words, are we watching what Al wants us to believe? Regardless of the answers to these questions, the film succeeds precisely because of its accidental or inadvertent choices, so it is an implicit reminder that seeking the director's original intention in any piece of art is a complete mirage. Detour is certainly not a good film, but it just might be a great one. (It is a short film too, and, out of copyright, it is available online for free.)

Safe (1995) Safe is a subtly disturbing film about an upper-middle-class housewife who begins to complain about vague symptoms of illness. Initially claiming that she doesn't feel right, Carol starts to have unexplained headaches, a dry cough and nosebleeds, and eventually begins to have trouble breathing. Carol's family doctor treats her concerns with little care, and suggests to her husband that she sees a psychiatrist. Yet Carol's episodes soon escalate. For example, as a 'homemaker' and with nothing else to occupy her, Carol's orders a new couch for a party. But when the store delivers the wrong one (although it is not altogether clear that they did), Carol has a near breakdown. Unsure where to turn, an 'allergist' tells Carol she has "Environmental Illness," and so Carol eventually checks herself into a new-age commune filled with alternative therapies. On the surface, Safe is thus a film about the increasing about of pesticides and chemicals in our lives, something that was clearly felt far more viscerally in the 1990s. But it is also a film about how lack of genuine healthcare for women must be seen as a critical factor in the rise of crank medicine. (Indeed, it made for something of an uncomfortable watch during the coronavirus lockdown.) More interestingly, however, Safe gently-yet-critically examines the psychosocial causes that may be aggravating Carol's illnesses, including her vacant marriage, her hollow friends and the 'empty calorie' stimulus of suburbia. None of this should be especially new to anyone: the gendered Victorian term 'hysterical' is often all but spoken throughout this film, and perhaps from the very invention of modern medicine, women's symptoms have often regularly minimised or outright dismissed. (Hilary Mantel's 2003 memoir, Giving Up the Ghost is especially harrowing on this.) As I opened this review, the film is subtle in its messaging. Just to take one example from many, the sound of the cars is always just a fraction too loud: there's a scene where a group is eating dinner with a road in the background, and the total effect can be seen as representing the toxic fumes of modernity invading our social lives and health. I won't spoiler the conclusion of this quietly devasting film, but don't expect a happy ending.

The Driver (1978) Critics grossly misunderstood The Driver when it was first released. They interpreted the cold and unemotional affect of the characters with the lack of developmental depth, instead of representing their dissociation from the society around them. This reading was encouraged by the fact that the principal actors aren't given real names and are instead known simply by their archetypes instead: 'The Driver', 'The Detective', 'The Player' and so on. This sort of quasi-Jungian erudition is common in many crime films today (Reservoir Dogs, Kill Bill, Layer Cake, Fight Club), so the critics' misconceptions were entirely reasonable in 1978. The plot of The Driver involves the eponymous Driver, a noted getaway driver for robberies in Los Angeles. His exceptional talent has far prevented him from being captured thus far, so the Detective attempts to catch the Driver by pardoning another gang if they help convict the Driver via a set-up robbery. To give himself an edge, however, The Driver seeks help from the femme fatale 'Player' in order to mislead the Detective. If this all sounds eerily familiar, you would not be far wrong. The film was essentially remade by Nicolas Winding Refn as Drive (2011) and in Edgar Wright's 2017 Baby Driver. Yet The Driver offers something that these neon-noir variants do not. In particular, the car chases around Los Angeles are some of the most captivating I've seen: they aren't thrilling in the sense of tyre squeals, explosions and flying boxes, but rather the vehicles come across like wild animals hunting one another. This feels especially so when the police are hunting The Driver, which feels less like a low-stakes game of cat and mouse than a pack of feral animals working together a gang who will tear apart their prey if they find him. In contrast to the undercar neon glow of the Fast & Furious franchise, the urban realism backdrop of the The Driver's LA metropolis contributes to a sincere feeling of artistic fidelity as well. To be sure, most of this is present in the truly-excellent Drive, where the chase scenes do really communicate a credible sense of stakes. But the substitution of The Driver's grit with Drive's soft neon tilts it slightly towards that common affliction of crime movies: style over substance. Nevertheless, I can highly recommend watching The Driver and Drive together, as it can tell you a lot about the disconnected socioeconomic practices of the 1980s compared to the 2010s. More than that, however, the pseudo-1980s synthwave soundtrack of Drive captures something crucial to analysing the world of today. In particular, these 'sounds from the past filtered through the present' bring to mind the increasing role of nostalgia for lost futures in the culture of today, where temporality and pop culture references are almost-exclusively citational and commemorational.

The Souvenir (2019) The ostensible outline of this quietly understated film follows a shy but ambitious film student who falls into an emotionally fraught relationship with a charismatic but untrustworthy older man. But that doesn't quite cover the plot at all, for not only is The Souvenir a film about a young artist who is inspired, derailed and ultimately strengthened by a toxic relationship, it is also partly a coming-of-age drama, a subtle portrait of class and, finally, a film about the making of a film. Still, one of the geniuses of this truly heartbreaking movie is that none of these many elements crowds out the other. It never, ever feels rushed. Indeed, there are many scenes where the camera simply 'sits there' and quietly observes what is going on. Other films might smother themselves through references to 18th-century oil paintings, but The Souvenir somehow evades this too. And there's a certain ring of credibility to the story as well, no doubt in part due to the fact it is based on director Joanna Hogg's own experiences at film school. A beautifully observed and multi-layered film; I'll be happy if the sequel is one-half as good.

The Wrestler (2008) Randy 'The Ram' Robinson is long past his prime, but he is still rarin' to go in the local pro-wrestling circuit. Yet after a brutal beating that seriously threatens his health, Randy hangs up his tights and pursues a serious relationship... and even tries to reconnect with his estranged daughter. But Randy can't resist the lure of the ring, and readies himself for a comeback. The stage is thus set for Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler, which is essentially about what drives Randy back to the ring. To be sure, Randy derives much of his money from wrestling as well as his 'fitness', self-image, self-esteem and self-worth. Oh, it's no use insisting that wrestling is fake, for the sport is, needless to say, Randy's identity; it's not for nothing that this film is called The Wrestler. In a number of ways, The Sound of Metal (2019) is both a reaction to (and a quiet remake of) The Wrestler, if only because both movies utilise 'cool' professions to explore such questions of identity. But perhaps simply when The Wrestler was produced makes it the superior film. Indeed, the role of time feels very important for the Wrestler. In the first instance, time is clearly taking its toll on Randy's body, but I felt it more strongly in the sense this was very much a pre-2008 film, released on the cliff-edge of the global financial crisis, and the concomitant precarity of the 2010s. Indeed, it is curious to consider that you couldn't make The Wrestler today, although not because the relationship to work has changed in any fundamentalway. (Indeed, isn't it somewhat depressing the realise that, since the start of the pandemic and the 'work from home' trend to one side, we now require even more people to wreck their bodies and mental health to cover their bills?) No, what I mean to say here is that, post-2016, you cannot portray wrestling on-screen without, how can I put it, unwelcome connotations. All of which then reminds me of Minari's notorious red hat... But I digress. The Wrestler is a grittily stark darkly humorous look into the life of a desperate man and a sorrowful world, all through one tragic profession.

Thief (1981) Frank is an expert professional safecracker and specialises in high-profile diamond heists. He plans to use his ill-gotten gains to retire from crime and build a life for himself with a wife and kids, so he signs on with a top gangster for one last big score. This, of course, could be the plot to any number of heist movies, but Thief does something different. Similar to The Wrestler and The Driver (see above) and a number of other films that I watched this year, Thief seems to be saying about our relationship to work and family in modernity and postmodernity. Indeed, the 'heist film', we are told, is an understudied genre, but part of the pleasure of watching these films is said to arise from how they portray our desired relationship to work. In particular, Frank's desire to pull off that last big job feels less about the money it would bring him, but a displacement from (or proxy for) fulfilling some deep-down desire to have a family or indeed any relationship at all. Because in theory, of course, Frank could enter into a fulfilling long-term relationship right away, without stealing millions of dollars in diamonds... but that's kinda the entire point: Frank needing just one more theft is an excuse to not pursue a relationship and put it off indefinitely in favour of 'work'. (And being Federal crimes, it also means Frank cannot put down meaningful roots in a community.) All this is communicated extremely subtly in the justly-lauded lowkey diner scene, by far the best scene in the movie. The visual aesthetic of Thief is as if you set The Warriors (1979) in a similarly-filthy Chicago, with the Xenophon-inspired plot of The Warriors replaced with an almost deliberate lack of plot development... and the allure of The Warriors' fantastical criminal gangs (with their alluringly well-defined social identities) substituted by a bunch of amoral individuals with no solidarity beyond the immediate moment. A tale of our time, perhaps. I should warn you that the ending of Thief is famously weak, but this is a gritty, intelligent and strangely credible heist movie before you get there.

Uncut Gems (2019) The most exhausting film I've seen in years; the cinematic equivalent of four cups of double espresso, I didn't even bother even trying to sleep after downing Uncut Gems late one night. Directed by the two Safdie Brothers, it often felt like I was watching two films that had been made at the same time. (Or do I mean two films at 2X speed?) No, whatever clumsy metaphor you choose to adopt, the unavoidable effect of this film's finely-tuned chaos is an uncompromising and anxiety-inducing piece of cinema. The plot follows Howard as a man lost to his countless vices mostly gambling with a significant side hustle in adultery, but you get the distinct impression he would be happy with anything that will give him another high. A true junkie's junkie, you might say. You know right from the beginning it's going to end in some kind of disaster, the only question remaining is precisely how and what. Portrayed by an (almost unrecognisable) Adam Sandler, there's an uncanny sense of distance in the emotional chasm between 'Sandler-as-junkie' and 'Sandler-as-regular-star-of-goofy-comedies'. Yet instead of being distracting and reducing the film's affect, this possibly-deliberate intertextuality somehow adds to the masterfully-controlled mayhem. My heart races just at the memory. Oof.

Woman in the Dunes (1964) I ended up watching three films that feature sand this year: Denis Villeneuve's Dune (2021), Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and Woman in the Dunes. But it is this last 1964 film by Hiroshi Teshigahara that will stick in my mind in the years to come. Sure, there is none of the Medician intrigue of Dune or the Super Panavision-70 of Lawrence of Arabia (or its quasi-orientalist score, itself likely stolen from Anton Bruckner's 6th Symphony), but Woman in the Dunes doesn't have to assert its confidence so boldly, and it reveals the enormity of its plot slowly and deliberately instead. Woman in the Dunes never rushes to get to the film's central dilemma, and it uncovers its terror in little hints and insights, all whilst establishing the daily rhythm of life. Woman in the Dunes has something of the uncanny horror as Dogtooth (see above), as well as its broad range of potential interpretations. Both films permit a wide array of readings, without resorting to being deliberately obscurantist or being just plain random it is perhaps this reason why I enjoyed them so much. It is true that asking 'So what does the sand mean?' sounds tediously sophomoric shorn of any context, but it somehow applies to this thoughtfully self-contained piece of cinema.

A Quiet Place (2018) Although A Quiet Place was not actually one of the best films I saw this year, I'm including it here as it is certainly one of the better 'mainstream' Hollywood franchises I came across. Not only is the film very ably constructed and engages on a visceral level, I should point out that it is rare that I can empathise with the peril of conventional horror movies (and perhaps prefer to focus on its cultural and political aesthetics), but I did here. The conceit of this particular post-apocalyptic world is that a family is forced to live in almost complete silence while hiding from creatures that hunt by sound alone. Still, A Quiet Place engages on an intellectual level too, and this probably works in tandem with the pure 'horrorific' elements and make it stick into your mind. In particular, and to my mind at least, A Quiet Place a deeply American conservative film below the surface: it exalts the family structure and a certain kind of sacrifice for your family. (The music often had a passacaglia-like strain too, forming a tombeau for America.) Moreover, you survive in this dystopia by staying quiet that is to say, by staying stoic suggesting that in the wake of any conflict that might beset the world, the best thing to do is to keep quiet. Even communicating with your loved ones can be deadly to both of you, so not emote, acquiesce quietly to your fate, and don't, whatever you do, speak up. (Or join a union.) I could go on, but The Quiet Place is more than this. It's taut and brief, and despite cinema being an increasingly visual medium, it encourages its audience to develop a new relationship with sound.

12 January 2022

Michael Prokop: Revisiting 2021

* Uhm yeah, so this shirt didn t age well. :) Mainly to recall what happened, I m once again revisiting my previous year (previous edition: 2020). 2021 was quite challenging overall. It started with four weeks of distance learning at school. Luckily at least at school things got back to "some kind of normal" afterwards. The lockdowns turned out to be an excellent opportunity for practising Geocaching though, and that s what I started to do with my family. It s a great way to grab some fresh air, get to know new areas, and spend time with family and friends I plan to continue doing this. :) We bought a family season ticket for Freib der (open-air baths) in Graz; this turned out to be a great investment I enjoyed the open air swimming with family, as well as going for swimming laps on my own very much, and plan to do the same in 2022. Due to the lockdowns and the pandemics, the weekly Badminton sessions sadly didn t really take place, so I pushed towards the above-mentioned outdoor swimming and also some running; with my family we managed to do some cycling, inline skating and even practiced some boulder climbing. For obvious reasons plenty of concerts I was looking forward didn t take place. With my parents we at least managed to attend a concert performance of Puccinis Tosca with Jonas Kaufmann at Schlo bergb hne Kasematten/Graz, and with the kids we saw "Robin Hood" in Oper Graz and "Pippi Langstrumpf" at Studiob hne of Oper Graz. The lack of concerts and rehearsals once again and still severely impacts my playing the drums, including at HTU BigBand Graz. :-/ Grml-wise we managed to publish release 2021.07, codename JauKerl. Debian-wise we got version 11 AKA bullseye released as new stable release in August. For 2021 I planned to and also managed to minimize buying (new) physical stuff, except for books and other reading stuff. Speaking of reading, 2021 was nice I managed to finish more than 100 books (see Mein Lesejahr 2021 ), and I d like to keep the reading pace. Now let s hope for better times in 2022!

8 January 2022

Jonathan Dowland: 2021 in Fiction

Cover for *This is How You Lose the Time War*
Cover for *Robot*
Cover for *The Glass Hotel*
Following on from last year's round-up of my reading, here's a look at the fiction I enjoyed in 2021. I managed to read 42 books in 2021, up from 31 last year. That's partly to do with buying an ereader: 33/36% of my reading (by pages/by books) was ebooks. I think this demonstrates that ebooks have mostly complemented paper books for me, rather than replacing them. My book of the year (although it was published in 2019) was This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: A short epistolary love story between warring time travellers and quite unlike anything else I've read for a long time. Other notables were The Glass Hotel by Emily St John Mandel and Robot by Adam Wi niewski-Snerg. The biggest disappointment for me was The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson (KSR), which I haven't even finished. I love KSRs writing: I've written about him many times on this blog, at least in 2002, 2006 and 2009, I think I've read every other novel he's published and most of his short stories. But this one was too much of something for me. He's described this novel a the end-point of a particular journey and approach to writing he's taken, which I felt relieved to learn, assuming he writes any more novels (and I really hope that he does) they will likely be in a different "mode". My "new author discovery" for 2021 was Chris Beckett: I tore through Two Tribes and America City before promptly buying all his other work. He fits roughly into the same bracket as Adam Roberts and Christopher Priest, two of my other favourite authors. 5 of the books I read (12%) were from my "backlog" of already-purchased physical books. I'd like to try and reduce my Backlog further so I hope to push this figure up next year. I made a small effort to read more diverse authors this year. 24% of the books I read (by book count and page count) were by women. 15% by page count were (loosely) BAME (19% by book count). Again I'd like to increase these numbers modestly in 2022. Unlike 2020, I didn't complete any short story collections in 2021! This is partly because there was only one issue of Interzone published in all of 2021, a double-issue which I haven't yet finished. This is probably a sad date point in terms of Interzone's continued existence, but it's not dead yet.

30 December 2021

Chris Lamb: Favourite books of 2021: Non-fiction

As a follow-up to yesterday's post listing my favourite memoirs and biographies I read in 2021, today I'll be outlining my favourite works of non-fiction. Books that just missed the cut include: The Unusual Suspect by Ben Machell for its thrilleresque narrative of a modern-day Robin Hood (and if you get to the end, a completely unexpected twist); Paul Fussell's Class: A Guide to the American Status System as an amusing chaser of sorts to Kate Fox's Watching the English; John Carey's Little History of Poetry for its exhilarating summation of almost four millennia of verse; David Graeber's Debt: The First 5000 Years for numerous historical insights, not least its rejoinder to our dangerously misleading view of ancient barter systems; and, although I didn't treasure everything about it, I won't hesitate to gift Pen Vogler's Scoff to a number of friends over the next year. The weakest book of non-fiction I read this year was undoubtedly Roger Scruton's How to Be a Conservative: I much preferred The Decadent Society for Ross Douthat for my yearly ration of the 'intellectual right'. I also very much enjoyed reading a number of classic texts from academic sociology, but they are difficult to recommend or even summarise. These included One-Dimensional Man by Herbert Marcuse, Postmodernism: Or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism by Frederic Jameson and The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism by Max Weber. 'These are heavy books', remarks John Proctor in Arthur Miller's The Crucible... All round-up posts for 2021: Memoir/biography, Non-fiction (this post) & Fiction (coming soon).

Hidden Valley Road (2020) Robert Kolker A compelling and disturbing account of the Galvin family six of whom were diagnosed with schizophrenia which details a journey through the study and misunderstanding of the condition. The story of the Galvin family offers a parallel history of the science of schizophrenia itself, from the era of institutionalisation, lobotomies and the 'schizo mother', to the contemporary search for genetic markers for the disease... all amidst fundamental disagreements about the nature of schizophrenia and, indeed, of all illnesses of the mind. Samples of the Galvins' DNA informed decades of research which, curiously, continues to this day, potentially offering paths to treatment, prediction and even eradication of the disease, although on this last point I fancy that I detect a kind of neo-Victorian hubris that we alone will be the ones to find a cure. Either way, a gentle yet ultimately tragic view of a curiously 'American' family, where the inherent lack of narrative satisfaction brings a frustration and sadness of its own.

Islands of Abandonment: Life in the Post-Human Landscape (2021) Cat Flyn In this disarmingly lyrical book, Cat Flyn addresses the twin questions of what happens after humans are gone and how far can our damage to nature be undone. From the forbidden areas of post-war France to the mining regions of Scotland, Islands of Abandonment explores the extraordinary places where humans no longer live in an attempt to give us a glimpse into what happens when mankind's impact on nature is, for one reason or another, forced to stop. Needless to say, if anxieties in this area are not curdling away in your subconscious mind, you are probably in some kind of denial. Through a journey into desolate, eerie and ravaged areas in the world, this artfully-written study offers profound insights into human nature, eschewing the usual dry sawdust of Wikipedia trivia. Indeed, I summed it up to a close friend remarking that, through some kind of hilarious administrative error, the book's publisher accidentally dispatched a poet instead of a scientist to write this book. With glimmers of hope within the (mostly) tragic travelogue, Islands of Abandonment is not only a compelling read, but also a fascinating insight into the relationship between Nature and Man.

The Anatomy of Fascism (2004) Robert O. Paxton Everyone is absolutely sure they know what fascism is... or at least they feel confident choosing from a buffet of features to suit the political mood. To be sure, this is not a new phenomenon: even as 'early' as 1946, George Orwell complained in Politics and the English Language that the word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies something not desirable . Still, it has proved uncommonly hard to define the core nature of fascism and what differentiates it from related political movements. This is still of great significance in the twenty-first century, for the definition ultimately determines where the powerful label of 'fascist' can be applied today. Part of the enjoyment of reading this book was having my own cosy definition thoroughly dismantled and replaced with a robust system of abstractions and common themes. This is achieved through a study of the intellectual origins of fascism and how it played out in the streets of Berlin, Rome and Paris. Moreover, unlike Strongmen (see above), fascisms that failed to gain meaningful power are analysed too, including Oswald Mosley's British Union of Fascists. Curiously enough, Paxton's own definition of fascism is left to the final chapter, and by the time you reach it, you get an anti-climatic feeling of it being redundant. Indeed, whatever it actually is, fascism is really not quite like any other 'isms' at all, so to try and classify it like one might be a mistake. In his introduction, Paxton warns that many of those infamous images associated with fascism (eg. Hitler in Triumph of the Will, Mussolini speaking from a balcony, etc.) have the ability to induce facile errors about the fascist leader and the apparent compliance of the crowd. (Contemporary accounts often record how sceptical the common man was of the leader's political message, even if they were transfixed by their oratorical bombast.) As it happens, I thus believe I had something of an advantage of reading this via an audiobook, and completely avoided re-absorbing these iconic images. To me, this was an implicit reminder that, however you choose to reduce it to a definition, fascism is undoubtedly the most visual of all political forms, presenting itself to us in vivid and iconic primary images: ranks of disciplined marching youths, coloured-shirted militants beating up members of demonised minorities; the post-war pictures from the concentration camps... Still, regardless of you choose to read it, The Anatomy of Fascism is a powerful book that can teach a great deal about fascism in particular and history in general.

What Good are the Arts? (2005) John Carey What Good are the Arts? takes a delightfully sceptical look at the nature of art, and cuts through the sanctimony and cant that inevitably surrounds them. It begins by revealing the flaws in lofty aesthetic theories and, along the way, debunks the claims that art makes us better people. They may certainly bring joy into your life, but by no means do the fine arts make you automatically virtuous. Carey also rejects the entire enterprise of separating things into things that are art and things that are not, making a thoroughly convincing case that there is no transcendental category containing so-called 'true' works of art. But what is perhaps equally important to what Carey is claiming is the way he does all this. As in, this is an extremely enjoyable book to read, with not only a fine sense of pace and language, but a devilish sense of humour as well. To be clear, What Good are the Arts? it is no crotchety monograph: Leo Tolstoy's *What Is Art? (1897) is hilarious to read in similar ways, but you can't avoid feeling its cantankerous tone holds Tolstoy's argument back. By contrast, Carey makes his argument in a playful sort of manner, in a way that made me slightly sad to read other polemics throughout the year. It's definitely not that modern genre of boomer jeremiad about the young, political correctness or, heaven forbid, 'cancel culture'... which, incidentally, made Carey's 2014 memoir, The Unexpected Professor something of a disappointing follow-up. Just for fun, Carey later undermines his own argument by arguing at length for the value of one art in particular. Literature, Carey asserts, is the only art capable of reasoning and the only art with the ability to criticise. Perhaps so, and Carey spends a chapter or so contending that fiction has the exclusive power to inspire the mind and move the heart towards practical ends... or at least far better than any work of conceptual art. Whilst reading this book I found myself taking down innumerable quotations and laughing at the jokes far more than I disagreed. And the sustained and intellectual style of polemic makes this a pretty strong candidate for my favourite overall book of the year.

29 December 2021

Chris Lamb: Favourite books of 2021: Memoir/biography

Just as I did for 2020, I won't publically disclose exactly how many books I read in 2021, but they evidently provoked enough thoughts that felt it worth splitting my yearly writeup into separate posts. I will reveal, however, that I got through more books than the previous year, and, like before, I enjoyed the books I read this year even more in comparison as well. How much of this is due to refining my own preferences over time, and how much can be ascribed to feeling less pressure to read particular books? It s impossible to say, and the question is complicated further by the fact I found many of the classics I read well worth of their entry into the dreaded canon. But enough of the throat-clearing. In today's post I'll be looking at my favourite books filed under memoir and biography, in no particular order. Books that just missed the cut here include: Bernard Crick's celebrated 1980 biography of George Orwell, if nothing else because it was a pleasure to read; Hilary Mantel's exhilaratingly bitter early memoir, Giving up the Ghost (2003); and Patricia Lockwood's hilarious Priestdaddy (2017). I also had a soft spot for Tim Kreider's We Learn Nothing (2012) as well, despite not knowing anything about the author in advance, likely a sign of good writing. The strangest book in this category I read was definitely Michelle Zauner's Crying in H Mart. Based on a highly-recommended 2018 essay in the New Yorker, its rich broth of genuine yearning for a departed mother made my eyebrows raise numerous times when I encountered inadvertent extra details about Zauner's relationships.

Beethoven: A Life in Nine Pieces (2020) Laura Tunbridge Whilst it might immediately present itself as a clickbait conceit, organising an overarching narrative around just nine compositions by Beethoven turns out to be an elegant way of saying something fresh about this grizzled old bear. Some of Beethoven's most famous compositions are naturally included in the nine (eg. the Eroica and the Hammerklavier piano sonata), but the book raises itself above conventional Beethoven fare when it highlights, for instance, his Septet, Op. 20, an early work that is virtually nobody's favourite Beethoven piece today. The insight here is that it was widely popular in its time, played again and again around Vienna for the rest of his life. No doubt many contemporary authors can relate to this inability to escape being artistically haunted by an earlier runaway success. The easiest way to say something interesting about Beethoven in the twenty-first century is to talk about the myth of Beethoven instead. Or, as Tunbridge implies, perhaps that should really be 'Beethoven' in leaden quotation marks, given so much about what we think we know about the man is a quasi-fictional construction. Take Anton Schindler, Beethoven's first biographer and occasional amanuensis, who destroyed and fabricated details about Beethoven's life, casting himself in a favourable light and exaggerating his influence with the composer. Only a few decades later, the idea of a 'heroic' German was to be politically useful as well; the Anglosphere often need reminding that Germany did not exist as a nation-state prior to 1871, so it should be unsurprising to us that the late nineteenth-century saw a determined attempt to create a uniquely 'German' culture ex nihilo. (And the less we say about Immortal Beloved the better, even though I treasure that film.) Nevertheless, Tunbridge cuts through Beethoven's substantial legacy using surgical precision that not only avoids feeling like it is settling a score, but it also does so in a way that is unlikely to completely alienate anyone emotionally dedicated to some already-established idea of the man to bring forth the tediously predictable sentiment that Beethoven has 'gone woke'. With Alex Ross on the cult of Wagner, it seems that books about the 'myth of X' are somewhat in vogue right now. And this pattern within classical music might fit into some broader trend of deconstruction in popular non-fiction too, especially when we consider the numerous contemporary books on the long hangover of the Civil Rights era (Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility, etc.), the multifarious ghosts of Empire (Akala's Natives, Sathnam Sanghera's Empireland, etc.) or even the 'transmogrification' of George Orwell into myth. But regardless of its place in some wider canon, A Life in Nine Pieces is beautifully printed in hardback form (worth acquiring for that very reason alone), and it is one of the rare good books about classical music that can be recommended to both the connoisseur and the layperson alike.

Sea State (2021) Tabitha Lasley In her mid-30s and jerking herself out of a terrible relationship, Tabitha Lasley left London and put all her savings into a six-month lease on a flat within a questionable neighbourhood in Aberdeen, Scotland. She left to make good on a lukewarm idea for a book about oil rigs and the kinds of men who work on them: I wanted to see what men were like with no women around, she claims. The result is Sea State, a forthright examination of the life of North Sea oil riggers, and an unsparing portrayal of loneliness, masculinity, female desire and the decline of industry in Britain. (It might almost be said that Sea State is an update of a sort to George Orwell's visit to the mines in the North of England.) As bracing as the North Sea air, Sea State spoke to me on multiple levels but I found it additionally interesting to compare and contrast with Julian Barnes' The Man with Red Coat (see below). Women writers are rarely thought to be using fiction for higher purposes: it is assumed that, unlike men, whatever women commit to paper is confessional without any hint of artfulness. Indeed, it seems to me that the reaction against the decades-old genre of autofiction only really took hold when it became the domain of millennial women. (By contrast, as a 75-year-old male writer with a firmly established reputation in the literary establishment, Julian Barnes is allowed wide latitude in what he does with his sources and his writing can be imbued with supremely confident airs as a result.) Furthermore, women are rarely allowed metaphor or exaggeration for dramatic effect, and they certainly aren t permitted to emphasise darker parts in order to explore them... hence some of the transgressive gratification of reading Sea State. Sea State is admittedly not a work of autofiction, but the sense that you are reading about an author writing a book is pleasantly unavoidable throughout. It frequently returns to the topic of oil workers who live multiple lives, and Lasley admits to living two lives herself: she may be in love but she's also on assignment, and a lot of the pleasure in this candid and remarkably accessible book lies in the way these states become slowly inseparable.

Twilight of Democracy (2020) Anne Applebaum For the uninitiated, Anne Applebaum is a staff writer for The Atlantic magazine who won a Pulitzer-prize for her 2004 book on the Soviet Gulag system. Her latest book, however, Twilight of Democracy is part memoir and part political analysis and discusses the democratic decline and the rise of right-wing populism. This, according to Applebaum, displays distinctly authoritarian tendencies, and who am I to disagree? Applebaum does this through three main case studies (Poland, the United Kingdom and the United States), but the book also touches on Hungary as well. The strongest feature of this engaging book is that Appelbaum's analysis focuses on the intellectual classes and how they provide significant justification for a descent into authoritarianism. This is always an important point to be remembered, especially as much of the folk understanding of the rise of authoritarian regimes tends to place exaggerated responsibility on the ordinary and everyday citizen: the blame placed on the working-class in the Weimar Republic or the scorn heaped upon 'white trash' of the contemporary Rust Belt, for example. Applebaum is uniquely poised to discuss these intellectuals because, well, she actually knows a lot of them personally. Or at least, she used to know them. Indeed, the narrative of the book revolves around two parties she hosted, both in the same house in northwest Poland. The first party, on 31 December 1999, was attended by friends from around the Western world, but most of the guests were Poles from the broad anti-communist alliance. They all agreed about democracy, the rule of law and the route to prosperity whilst toasting in the new millennium. (I found it amusing to realise that War and Peace also starts with a party.) But nearly two decades later, many of the attendees have ended up as supporters of the problematic 'Law and Justice' party which currently governs the country. Applebaum would now cross the road to avoid them, and they would do the same to her, let alone behave themselves at a cordial reception. The result of this autobiographical detail is that by personalising the argument, Applebaum avoids the trap of making too much of high-minded abstract argument for 'democracy', and additionally makes her book compellingly spicy too. Yet the strongest part of this book is also its weakest. By individualising the argument, it often feels that Applebaum is settling a number of personal scores. She might be very well justified in doing this, but at times it feels like the reader has walked in halfway through some personal argument and is being asked to judge who is in the right. Furthermore, Applebaum's account of contemporary British politics sometimes deviates into the cartoonish: nothing was egregiously incorrect in any of her summations, but her explanation of the Brexit referendum result didn't read as completely sound. Nevertheless, this lively and entertaining book that can be read with profit, even if you disagree with significant portions of it, and its highly-personal approach makes it a refreshing change from similar contemporary political analysis (eg. David Runciman's How Democracy Ends) which reaches for that more 'objective' line.

The Man in the Red Coat (2019) Julian Barnes As rich as the eponymous red coat that adorns his cover, Julian Barnes quasi-biography of French gynaecologist Samuel-Jean Pozzi (1846 1918) is at once illuminating, perplexing and downright hilarious. Yet even that short description is rather misleading, for this book evades classification all manner number of ways. For instance, it is unclear that, with the biographer's narrative voice so obviously manifest, it is even a biography in the useful sense of the word. After all, doesn't the implied pact between author and reader require the biographer to at least pretend that they are hiding from the reader? Perhaps this is just what happens when an author of very fine fiction turns his hand to non-fiction history, and, if so, it represents a deeper incursion into enemy territory after his 1984 metafictional Flaubert's Parrot. Indeed, upon encountering an intriguing mystery in Pozzi's life crying out for a solution, Barnes baldly turns to the reader, winks and states: These matters could, of course, be solved in a novel. Well, quite. Perhaps Barnes' broader point is that, given that's impossible for the author to completely melt into air, why not simply put down your cards and have a bit of fun whilst you're at it? If there's any biography that makes the case for a rambling and lightly polemical treatment, then it is this one. Speaking of having fun, however, two qualities you do not expect in a typical biography is simply how witty they can be, as well as it having something of the whiff of the thriller about it. A bullet might be mentioned in an early chapter, but given the name and history of Monsieur Pozzi is not widely known, one is unlikely to learn how he lived his final years until the closing chapters. (Or what happened to that turtle.) Humour is primarily incorporated into the book in two main ways: first, by explicitly citing the various wits of the day ( What is a vice? Merely a taste you don t share. etc.), but perhaps more powerful is the gentle ironies, bon mots and observations in Barnes' entirely unflappable prose style, along with the satire implicit in him writing this moreish pseudo-biography to begin with. The opening page, with its steadfast refusal to even choose where to begin, is somewhat characteristic of Barnes' method, so if you don't enjoy the first few pages then you are unlikely to like the rest. (Indeed, the whole enterprise may be something of an acquired taste. Like Campari.) For me, though, I was left wryly grinning and often couldn't wait to turn the page. Indeed, at times it reminded me of a being at a dinner party with an extremely charming guest at the very peak of his form as a wit and raconteur, delighting the party with his rambling yet well-informed discursive on his topic de jour. A significant book, and a book of significance.

3 December 2021

Paul Tagliamonte: Transmitting BPSK symbols (Part 2/5)

This post is part of a series called "PACKRAT". If this is the first post you've found, it'd be worth reading the intro post first and then looking over all posts in the series.
In the last post, we worked through what IQ is, and different formats that it may be sent or received in. Let s take that and move on to Transmitting BPSK using IQ data! When we transmit and receive information through RF using an SDR, data is traditionally encoded into a stream of symbols which are then used by a program to modulate the IQ stream, and sent over the airwaves. PACKRAT uses BPSK to encode Symbols through RF. BPSK is the act of modulating the phase of a sine wave to carry information. The transmitted wave swaps between two states in order to convey a 0 or a 1. Our symbols modulate the transmitted sine wave s phase, so that it moves between in-phase with the SDR s transmitter and 180 degrees (or radians) out of phase with the SDR s transmitter. The difference between a Bit and a Symbol in PACKRAT is not incredibly meaningful, and I ll often find myself slipping up when talking about them. I ve done my best to try and use the right word at the right stage, but it s not as obvious where the line between bit and symbol is at least not as obvious as it would be with QPSK or QAM. The biggest difference is that there are three meaningful states for PACKRAT over BPSK - a 1 (for In phase ), -1 (for 180 degrees out of phase ) and 0 (for no carrier ). For my implementation, a stream of all zeros will not transmit data over the airwaves, a stream of all 1s will transmit all 1 bits over the airwaves, and a stream of all -1s will transmit all 0 bits over the airwaves. We re not going to cover turning a byte (or bit) into a symbol yet I m going to write more about that in a later section. So for now, let s just worry about symbols in, and symbols out.

Transmitting a Sine wave at 0Hz If we go back to thinking about IQ data as a precisely timed measurements of energy over time at some particular specific frequency, we can consider what a sine wave will look like in IQ. Before we dive into antennas and RF, let s go to something a bit more visual. For the first example, you can see an example of a camera who s frame rate (or Sampling Rate!) matches the exact number of rotations per second (or Frequency!) of the propeller and it appears to stand exactly still. Every time the Camera takes a frame, it s catching the propeller in the exact same place in space, even though it s made a complete rotation. The second example is very similar, it s a light strobing (in this case, our sampling rate, since the darkness is ignored by our brains) at the same rate (frequency) as water dropping from a faucet and the video creator is even nice enough to change the sampling frequency to have the droplets move both forward and backward (positive and negative frequency) in comparison to the faucet. IQ works the same way. If we catch something in perfect frequency alignment with our radio, we ll wind up with readings that are the same for the entire stream of data. This means we can transmit a sine wave by setting all of the IQ samples in our buffer to 1+0i, which will transmit a pure sine wave at exactly the center frequency of the radio.
 var sine []complex 
for i := range sine  
sine[i] = complex(1.0, 0.0)
 
Alternatively, we can transmit a Sine wave (but with the opposite phase) by flipping the real value from 1 to -1. The same Sine wave is transmitted on the same Frequency, except when the wave goes high in the example above, the wave will go low in the example below.
 var sine []complex 
for i := range sine  
sine[i] = complex(-1.0, 0.0)
 
In fact, we can make a carrier wave at any phase angle and amplitude by using a bit of trig.
 // angle is in radians - here we have
 // 1.5 Pi (3 Tau) or 270 degrees.
 var angle = pi * 1.5
// amplitude controls the transmitted
 // strength of the carrier wave.
 var amplitude = 1.0
// output buffer as above
 var sine []complex 
for i := range sine  
sine[i] = complex(
amplitude*cos(angle),
amplitude*sin(angle),
)
 
The amplitude of the transmitted wave is the absolute value of the IQ sample (sometimes called magnitude), and the phase can be computed as the angle (or argument). The amplitude remains constant (at 1) in both cases. Remember back to the airplane propeller or water droplets we re controlling where we re observing the sine wave. It looks like a consistent value to us, but in reality it s being transmitted as a pure carrier wave at the provided frequency. Changing the angle of the number we re transmitting will control where in the sine wave cycle we re observing it at.

Generating BPSK modulated IQ data Modulating our carrier wave with our symbols is fairly straightforward to do we can multiply the symbol by 1 to get the real value to be used in the IQ stream. Or, more simply - we can just use the symbol directly in the constructed IQ data.
 var sampleRate = 2,621,440
var baudRate = 1024
// This represents the number of IQ samples
 // required to send a single symbol at the
 // provided baud and sample rate. I picked
 // two numbers in order to avoid half samples.
 // We will transmit each symbol in blocks of
 // this size.
 var samplesPerSymbol = sampleRate / baudRate
var samples = make([]complex, samplesPerSymbol)
// symbol is one of 1, -1 or 0.
 for each symbol in symbols  
for i := range samples  
samples[i] = complex(symbol, 0)
 
// write the samples out to an output file
 // or radio.
 write(samples)
 
If you want to check against a baseline capture, here s 10 example packets at 204800 samples per second.

Next Steps Now that we can transmit data, we ll start working on a receive path in Part 3, in order to check our work when transmitting the packets, as well as being able to hear packets we transmit from afar, coming up next in Part 3!!

2 August 2021

Colin Watson: Launchpad now runs on Python 3!

After a very long porting journey, Launchpad is finally running on Python 3 across all of our systems. I wanted to take a bit of time to reflect on why my emotional responses to this port differ so much from those of some others who ve done large ports, such as the Mercurial maintainers. It s hard to deny that we ve had to burn a lot of time on this, which I m sure has had an opportunity cost, and from one point of view it s essentially running to stand still: there is no single compelling feature that we get solely by porting to Python 3, although it s clearly a prerequisite for tidying up old compatibility code and being able to use modern language facilities in the future. And yet, on the whole, I found this a rewarding project and enjoyed doing it. Some of this may be because by inclination I m a maintenance programmer and actually enjoy this sort of thing. My default view tends to be that software version upgrades may be a pain but it s much better to get that pain over with as soon as you can rather than trying to hold back the tide; you can certainly get involved and try to shape where things end up, but rightly or wrongly I can t think of many cases when a righteously indignant user base managed to arrange for the old version to be maintained in perpetuity so that they never had to deal with the new thing (OK, maybe Perl 5 counts here). I think a more compelling difference between Launchpad and Mercurial, though, may be that very few other people really had a vested interest in what Python version Launchpad happened to be running, because it s all server-side code (aside from some client libraries such as launchpadlib, which were ported years ago). As such, we weren t trying to do this with the internet having Strong Opinions at us. We were doing this because it was obviously the only long-term-maintainable path forward, and in more recent times because some of our library dependencies were starting to drop support for Python 2 and so it was obviously going to become a practical problem for us sooner or later; but if we d just stayed on Python 2 forever then fundamentally hardly anyone else would really have cared directly, only maybe about some indirect consequences of that. I don t follow Mercurial development so I may be entirely off-base, but if other people were yelling at me about how late my project was to finish its port, that in itself would make me feel more negatively about the project even if I thought it was a good idea. Having most of the pressure come from ourselves rather than from outside meant that wasn t an issue for us. I m somewhat inclined to think of the process as an extreme version of paying down technical debt. Moving from Python 2.7 to 3.5, as we just did, means skipping over multiple language versions in one go, and if similar changes had been made more gradually it would probably have felt a lot more like the typical dependency update treadmill. I appreciate why not everyone might want to think of it this way: maybe this is just my own rationalization. Reflections on porting to Python 3 I m not going to defend the Python 3 migration process; it was pretty rough in a lot of ways. Nor am I going to spend much effort relitigating it here, as it s already been done to death elsewhere, and as I understand it the core Python developers have got the message loud and clear by now. At a bare minimum, a lot of valuable time was lost early in Python 3 s lifetime hanging on to flag-day-type porting strategies that were impractical for large projects, when it should have been providing for bilingual strategies (code that runs in both Python 2 and 3 for a transitional period) which is where most libraries and most large migrations ended up in practice. For instance, the early advice to library maintainers to maintain two parallel versions or perhaps translate dynamically with 2to3 was entirely impractical in most non-trivial cases and wasn t what most people ended up doing, and yet the idea that 2to3 is all you need still floats around Stack Overflow and the like as a result. (These days, I would probably point people towards something more like Eevee s porting FAQ as somewhere to start.) There are various fairly straightforward things that people often suggest could have been done to smooth the path, and I largely agree: not removing the u'' string prefix only to put it back in 3.3, fewer gratuitous compatibility breaks in the name of tidiness, and so on. But if I had a time machine, the number one thing I would ask to have been done differently would be introducing type annotations in Python 2 before Python 3 branched off. It s true that it s technically possible to do type annotations in Python 2, but the fact that it s a different syntax that would have to be fixed later is offputting, and in practice it wasn t widely used in Python 2 code. To make a significant difference to the ease of porting, annotations would need to have been introduced early enough that lots of Python 2 library code used them so that porting code didn t have to be quite so much of an exercise of manually figuring out the exact nature of string types from context. Launchpad is a complex piece of software that interacts with multiple domains: for example, it deals with a database, HTTP, web page rendering, Debian-format archive publishing, and multiple revision control systems, and there s often overlap between domains. Each of these tends to imply different kinds of string handling. Web page rendering is normally done mainly in Unicode, converting to bytes as late as possible; revision control systems normally want to spend most of their time working with bytes, although the exact details vary; HTTP is of course bytes on the wire, but Python s WSGI interface has some string type subtleties. In practice I found myself thinking about at least four string-like types (that is, things that in a language with a stricter type system I might well want to define as distinct types and restrict conversion between them): bytes, text, ordinary native strings (str in either language, encoded to UTF-8 in Python 2), and native strings with WSGI s encoding rules. Some of these are emergent properties of writing in the intersection of Python 2 and 3, which is effectively a specialized language of its own without coherent official documentation whose users must intuit its behaviour by comparing multiple sources of information, or by referring to unofficial porting guides: not a very satisfactory situation. Fortunately much of the complexity collapses once it becomes possible to write solely in Python 3. Some of the difficulties we ran into are not ones that are typically thought of as Python 2-to-3 porting issues, because they were changed later in Python 3 s development process. For instance, the email module was substantially improved in around the 3.2/3.3 timeframe to handle Python 3 s bytes/text model more correctly, and since Launchpad sends quite a few different kinds of email messages and has some quite picky tests for exactly what it emits, this entailed a lot of work in our email sending code and in our test suite to account for that. (It took me a while to work out whether we should be treating raw email messages as bytes or as text; bytes turned out to work best.) 3.4 made some tweaks to the implementation of quoted-printable encoding that broke a number of our tests in ways that took some effort to fix, because the tests needed to work on both 2.7 and 3.5. The list goes on. I got quite proficient at digging through Python s git history to figure out when and why some particular bit of behaviour had changed. One of the thorniest problems was parsing HTTP form data. We mainly rely on zope.publisher for this, which in turn relied on cgi.FieldStorage; but cgi.FieldStorage is badly broken in some situations on Python 3. Even if that bug were fixed in a more recent version of Python, we can t easily use anything newer than 3.5 for the first stage of our port due to the version of the base OS we re currently running, so it wouldn t help much. In the end I fixed some minor issues in the multipart module (and was kindly given co-maintenance of it) and converted zope.publisher to use it. Although this took a while to sort out, it seems to have gone very well. A couple of other interesting late-arriving issues were around pickle. For most things we normally prefer safer formats such as JSON, but there are a few cases where we use pickle, particularly for our session databases. One of my colleagues pointed out that I needed to remember to tell pickle to stick to protocol 2, so that we d be able to switch back and forward between Python 2 and 3 for a while; quite right, and we later ran into a similar problem with marshal too. A more surprising problem was that datetime.datetime objects pickled on Python 2 require special care when unpickling on Python 3; rather than the approach that ended up being implemented and documented for Python 3.6, though, I preferred a custom unpickler, both so that things would work on Python 3.5 and so that I wouldn t have to risk affecting the decoding of other pickled strings in the session database. General lessons Writing this over a year after Python 2 s end-of-life date, and certainly nowhere near the leading edge of Python 3 porting work, it s perhaps more useful to look at this in terms of the lessons it has for other large technical debt projects. I mentioned in my previous article that I used the approach of an enormous and frequently-rebased git branch as a working area for the port, committing often and sometimes combining and extracting commits for review once they seemed to be ready. A port of this scale would have been entirely intractable without a tool of similar power to git rebase, so I m very glad that we finished migrating to git in 2019. I relied on this right up to the end of the port, and it also allowed for quick assessments of how much more there was to land. git worktree was also helpful, in that I could easily maintain working trees built for each of Python 2 and 3 for comparison. As is usual for most multi-developer projects, all changes to Launchpad need to go through code review, although we sometimes make exceptions for very simple and obvious changes that can be self-reviewed. Since I knew from the outset that this was going to generate a lot of changes for review, I therefore structured my work from the outset to try to make it as easy as possible for my colleagues to review it. This generally involved keeping most changes to a somewhat manageable size of 800 lines or less (although this wasn t always possible), and arranging commits mainly according to the kind of change they made rather than their location. For example, when I needed to fix issues with / in Python 3 being true division rather than floor division, I did so in one commit across the various places where it mattered and took care not to mix it with other unrelated changes. This is good practice for nearly any kind of development, but it was especially important here since it allowed reviewers to consider a clear explanation of what I was doing in the commit message and then skim-read the rest of it much more quickly. It was vital to keep the codebase in a working state at all times, and deploy to production reasonably often: this way if something went wrong the amount of code we had to debug to figure out what had happened was always tractable. (Although I can t seem to find it now to link to it, I saw an account a while back of a company that had taken a flag-day approach instead with a large codebase. It seemed to work for them, but I m certain we couldn t have made it work for Launchpad.) I can t speak too highly of Launchpad s test suite, much of which originated before my time. Without a great deal of extensive coverage of all sorts of interesting edge cases at both the unit and functional level, and a corresponding culture of maintaining that test suite well when making new changes, it would have been impossible to be anything like as confident of the port as we were. As part of the porting work, we split out a couple of substantial chunks of the Launchpad codebase that could easily be decoupled from the core: its Mailman integration and its code import worker. Both of these had substantial dependencies with complex requirements for porting to Python 3, and arranging to be able to do these separately on their own schedule was absolutely worth it. Like disentangling balls of wool, any opportunity you can take to make things less tightly-coupled is probably going to make it easier to disentangle the rest. (I can see a tractable way forward to porting the code import worker, so we may well get that done soon. Our Mailman integration will need to be rewritten, though, since it currently depends on the Python-2-only Mailman 2, and Mailman 3 has a different architecture.) Python lessons Our database layer was already in pretty good shape for a port, since at least the modern bits of its table modelling interface were already strict about using Unicode for text columns. If you have any kind of pervasive low-level framework like this, then making it be pedantic at you in advance of a Python 3 port will probably incur much less swearing in the long run, as you won t be trying to deal with quite so many bytes/text issues at the same time as everything else. Early in our port, we established a standard set of __future__ imports and started incrementally converting files over to them, mainly because we weren t yet sure what else to do and it seemed likely to be helpful. absolute_import was definitely reasonable (and not often a problem in our code), and print_function was annoying but necessary. In hindsight I m not sure about unicode_literals, though. For files that only deal with bytes and text it was reasonable enough, but as I mentioned above there were also a number of cases where we needed literals of the language s native str type, i.e. bytes in Python 2 and text in Python 3: this was particularly noticeable in WSGI contexts, but also cropped up in some other surprising places. We generally either omitted unicode_literals or used six.ensure_str in such cases, but it was definitely a bit awkward and maybe I should have listened more to people telling me it might be a bad idea. A lot of Launchpad s early tests used doctest, mainly in the style where you have text files that interleave narrative commentary with examples. The development team later reached consensus that this was best avoided in most cases, but by then there were far too many doctests to conveniently rewrite in some other form. Porting doctests to Python 3 is really annoying. You run into all the little changes in how objects are represented as text (particularly u'...' versus '...', but plenty of other cases as well); you have next to no tools to do anything useful like skipping individual bits of a doctest that don t apply; using __future__ imports requires the rather obscure approach of adding the relevant names to the doctest s globals in the relevant DocFileSuite or DocTestSuite; dealing with many exception tracebacks requires something like zope.testing.renormalizing; and whatever code refactoring tools you re using probably don t work properly. Basically, don t have done that. It did all turn out to be tractable for us in the end, and I managed to avoid using much in the way of fragile doctest extensions aside from the aforementioned zope.testing.renormalizing, but it was not an enjoyable experience. Regressions I know of nine regressions that reached Launchpad s production systems as a result of this porting work; of course there were various other regressions caught by CI or in manual testing. (Considering the size of this project, I count it as a resounding success that there were only nine production issues, and that for the most part we were able to fix them quickly.) Equality testing of removed database objects One of the things we had to do while porting to Python 3 was to implement the __eq__, __ne__, and __hash__ special methods for all our database objects. This was quite conceptually fiddly, because doing this requires knowing each object s primary key, and that may not yet be available if we ve created an object in Python but not yet flushed the actual INSERT statement to the database (most of our primary keys are auto-incrementing sequences). We thus had to take care to flush pending SQL statements in such cases in order to ensure that we know the primary keys. However, it s possible to have a problem at the other end of the object lifecycle: that is, a Python object might still be reachable in memory even though the underlying row has been DELETEd from the database. In most cases we don t keep removed objects around for obvious reasons, but it can happen in caching code, and buildd-manager crashed as a result (in fact while it was still running on Python 2). We had to take extra care to avoid this problem. Debian imports crashed on non-UTF-8 filenames Python 2 has some unfortunate behaviour around passing bytes or Unicode strings (depending on the platform) to shutil.rmtree, and the combination of some porting work and a particular source package in Debian that contained a non-UTF-8 file name caused us to run into this. The fix was to ensure that the argument passed to shutil.rmtree is a str regardless of Python version. We d actually run into something similar before: it s a subtle porting gotcha, since it s quite easy to end up passing Unicode strings to shutil.rmtree if you re in the process of porting your code to Python 3, and you might easily not notice if the file names in your tests are all encoded using UTF-8. lazr.restful ETags We eventually got far enough along that we could switch one of our four appserver machines (we have quite a number of other machines too, but the appservers handle web and API requests) to Python 3 and see what happened. By this point our extensive test suite had shaken out the vast majority of the things that could go wrong, but there was always going to be room for some interesting edge cases. One of the Ubuntu kernel team reported that they were seeing an increase in 412 Precondition Failed errors in some of their scripts that use our webservice API. These can happen when you re trying to modify an existing resource: the underlying protocol involves sending an If-Match header with the ETag that the client thinks the resource has, and if this doesn t match the ETag that the server calculates for the resource then the client has to refresh its copy of the resource and try again. We initially thought that this might be legitimate since it can happen in normal operation if you collide with another client making changes to the same resource, but it soon became clear that something stranger was going on: we were getting inconsistent ETags for the same object even when it was unchanged. Since we d recently switched a quarter of our appservers to Python 3, that was a natural suspect. Our lazr.restful package provides the framework for our webservice API, and roughly speaking it generates ETags by serializing objects into some kind of canonical form and hashing the result. Unfortunately the serialization was dependent on the Python version in a few ways, and in particular it serialized lists of strings such as lists of bug tags differently: Python 2 used [u'foo', u'bar', u'baz'] where Python 3 used ['foo', 'bar', 'baz']. In lazr.restful 1.0.3 we switched to using JSON for this, removing the Python version dependency and ensuring consistent behaviour between appservers. Memory leaks This problem took the longest to solve. We noticed fairly quickly from our graphs that the appserver machine we d switched to Python 3 had a serious memory leak. Our appservers had always been a bit leaky, but now it wasn t so much a small hole that we can bail occasionally as the boat is sinking rapidly : A serious memory leak (Yes, this got in the way of working out what was going on with ETags for a while.) I spent ages messing around with various attempts to fix this. Since only a quarter of our appservers were affected, and we could get by on 75% capacity for a while, it wasn t urgent but it was definitely annoying. After spending some quality time with objgraph, for some time I thought traceback reference cycles might be at fault, and I sent a number of fixes to various upstream projects for those (e.g. zope.pagetemplate). Those didn t help the leaks much though, and after a while it became clear to me that this couldn t be the sole problem: Python has a cyclic garbage collector that will eventually collect reference cycles as long as there are no strong references to any objects in them, although it might not happen very quickly. Something else must be going on. Debugging reference leaks in any non-trivial and long-running Python program is extremely arduous, especially with ORMs that naturally tend to end up with lots of cycles and caches. After a while I formed a hypothesis that zope.server might be keeping a strong reference to something, although I never managed to nail it down more firmly than that. This was an attractive theory as we were already in the process of migrating to Gunicorn for other reasons anyway, and Gunicorn also has a convenient max_requests setting that s good at mitigating memory leaks. Getting this all in place took some time, but once we did we found that everything was much more stable: A rather flat memory graph This isn t completely satisfying as we never quite got to the bottom of the leak itself, and it s entirely possible that we ve only papered over it using max_requests: I expect we ll gradually back off on how frequently we restart workers over time to try to track this down. However, pragmatically, it s no longer an operational concern. Mirror prober HTTPS proxy handling After we switched our script servers to Python 3, we had several reports of mirror probing failures. (Launchpad keeps lists of Ubuntu archive and image mirrors, and probes them every so often to check that they re reasonably complete and up to date.) This only affected HTTPS mirrors when probed via a proxy server, support for which is a relatively recent feature in Launchpad and involved some code that we never managed to unit-test properly: of course this is exactly the code that went wrong. Sadly I wasn t able to sort out that gap, but at least the fix was simple. Non-MIME-encoded email headers As I mentioned above, there were substantial changes in the email package between Python 2 and 3, and indeed between minor versions of Python 3. Our test coverage here is pretty good, but it s an area where it s very easy to have gaps. We noticed that a script that processes incoming email was crashing on messages with headers that were non-ASCII but not MIME-encoded (and indeed then crashing again when it tried to send a notification of the crash!). The only examples of these I looked at were spam, but we still didn t want to crash on them. The fix involved being somewhat more careful about both the handling of headers returned by Python s email parser and the building of outgoing email notifications. This seems to be working well so far, although I wouldn t be surprised to find the odd other incorrect detail in this sort of area. Failure to handle non-ISO-8859-1 URL-encoded form input Remember how I said that parsing HTTP form data was thorny? After we finished upgrading all our appservers to Python 3, people started reporting that they couldn t post Unicode comments to bugs, which turned out to be only if the attempt was made using JavaScript, and was because I hadn t quite managed to get URL-encoded form data working properly with zope.publisher and multipart. The current standard describes the URL-encoded format for form data as in many ways an aberrant monstrosity , so this was no great surprise. Part of the problem was some very strange choices in zope.publisher dating back to 2004 or earlier, which I attempted to clean up and simplify. The rest was that Python 2 s urlparse.parse_qs unconditionally decodes percent-encoded sequences as ISO-8859-1 if they re passed in as part of a Unicode string, so multipart needs to work around this on Python 2. I m still not completely confident that this is correct in all situations, but at least now that we re on Python 3 everywhere the matrix of cases we need to care about is smaller. Inconsistent marshalling of Loggerhead s disk cache We use Loggerhead for providing web browsing of Bazaar branches. When we upgraded one of its two servers to Python 3, we immediately noticed that the one still on Python 2 was failing to read back its revision information cache, which it stores in a database on disk. (We noticed this because it caused a deployment to fail: when we tried to roll out new code to the instance still on Python 2, Nagios checks had already caused an incompatible cache to be written for one branch from the Python 3 instance.) This turned out to be a similar problem to the pickle issue mentioned above, except this one was with marshal, which I didn t think to look for because it s a relatively obscure module mostly used for internal purposes by Python itself; I m not sure that Loggerhead should really be using it in the first place. The fix was relatively straightforward, complicated mainly by now needing to cope with throwing away unreadable cache data. Ironically, if we d just gone ahead and taken the nominally riskier path of upgrading both servers at the same time, we might never have had a problem here. Intermittent bzr failures Finally, after we upgraded one of our two Bazaar codehosting servers to Python 3, we had a report of intermittent bzr branch hangs. After some digging I found this in our logs:
Traceback (most recent call last):
  ...
  File "/srv/bazaar.launchpad.net/production/codehosting1-rev-20124175fa98fcb4b43973265a1561174418f4bd/env/lib/python3.5/site-packages/twisted/conch/ssh/channel.py", line 136, in addWindowBytes
    self.startWriting()
  File "/srv/bazaar.launchpad.net/production/codehosting1-rev-20124175fa98fcb4b43973265a1561174418f4bd/env/lib/python3.5/site-packages/lazr/sshserver/session.py", line 88, in startWriting
    resumeProducing()
  File "/srv/bazaar.launchpad.net/production/codehosting1-rev-20124175fa98fcb4b43973265a1561174418f4bd/env/lib/python3.5/site-packages/twisted/internet/process.py", line 894, in resumeProducing
    for p in self.pipes.itervalues():
builtins.AttributeError: 'dict' object has no attribute 'itervalues'
I d seen this before in our git hosting service: it was a bug in Twisted s Python 3 port, fixed after 20.3.0 but unfortunately after the last release that supported Python 2, so we had to backport that patch. Using the same backport dealt with this. Onwards!

31 May 2021

Russ Allbery: Review: The Relentless Moon

Review: The Relentless Moon, by Mary Robinette Kowal
Series: Lady Astronaut #3
Publisher: Tor
Copyright: 2020
ISBN: 1-250-23648-7
Format: Kindle
Pages: 542
Content note: Discussion of eating disorders in this review and portrayal of an eating disorder in the novel. The Relentless Moon is the third book of the Lady Astronaut series and the first one that doesn't feature Elma. It takes place simultaneously with The Fated Sky and tells the story of what happened on Earth, and the Moon, while Elma was in transit to Mars. It's meant to be read after The Fated Sky and would be a significant spoiler for that novel. The protagonist of this novel is Nicole Wargin: wife of the governor of Kansas (a more prestigious state in this universe since the seat of government for the United States was relocated to Kansas City after the Meteor), expert politician's wife, and another of the original group of female astronauts. Kenneth, her husband, is considering a run for president. Nicole is working as an astronaut, helping build out the permanent Moon base. But there are a lot of people on Earth who are not happy with the amount of money and political attention that the space program is getting. They have decided to move beyond protests and political opposition to active sabotage. Nicole was hoping to land an assignment piloting one of the larger rockets. What she gets instead is an assignment as secretary to the Lunar Colony Administrator, as cover. Her actual job is to watch for saboteurs that may or may not be operating on the Moon. Before she even leaves the planet, one of the chief engineers of the space program is poisoned. The pilot of the translunar shuttle falls ill during the flight to the Moon. And then the shuttle's controls fail during landing and disaster is only narrowly averted. The story from there is a cloak and dagger sabotage investigation mixed with Kowal's meticulously-researched speculation about a space program still running on 1950s technology but drastically accelerated by the upcoming climate collapse of Earth. Nicole has more skills for this type of mission than most around her realize due to very quiet work she did during the war, not to mention the feel for personalities and politics that she's honed as a governor's wife. But, like Elma, she's also fighting some personal battles. Elma's are against anxiety; Nicole's are against an eating disorder. I think my negative reaction to this aspect of the book is not the book's fault, but it was sufficiently strong that it substantially interfered with my enjoyment. The specific manifestation of Nicole's eating disorder is that she skips meals until she makes herself ill. My own anxious tendencies hyperfocus on prevention and on rule-following. The result is that once Kowal introduces the eating disorder subplot, my brain started anxiously monitoring everything that Nicole ate and keeping track of her last meal. This, in turn, felt horribly intrusive and uncomfortable. I did not want to monitor and police Nicole's eating, particularly when Nicole clearly was upset by anyone else doing exactly that, and yet I couldn't stop the background thread of my brain that did so. The result was a highly unsettling feeling that I was violating the privacy of the protagonist of the book that I was reading, mixed with anxiety and creeping dread about her calorie intake. Part of this may have been intentional to give the reader some sense of how this felt to Nicole. (The negative interaction with my own anxiety was likely not intentional.) Kowal did an exceptionally good job at invoking reader empathy (at least in me) for Elma's anxiety in The Calculating Stars. I didn't like the experience much this time, but that doesn't make it an invalid focus for a book. It may, however, make me a poor reviewer for this part of the reading experience. This was a major subplot, so it was hard to escape completely, but I quite enjoyed the rest of the book. It's not obvious who the saboteurs are or even how the sabotage is happening, and the acts of clear sabotage are complicated by other problems that may be more subtle sabotage, may be bad luck, or may be the inherent perils of trying to survive in space. Many of Nicole's suspicions do not pan out, which was a touch that I appreciated. She has to look for ulterior motives in everything, and in reality that means she'll be wrong most of the time, but fiction often unrealistically short-cuts that process. I also liked how Kowal handles the resolution, which avoids villain monologues and gives Nicole's opposition their own contingency plans, willingness to try to adapt to setbacks, and the intelligence to keep trying to manipulate the situation even when their plans fail. As with the rest of this series, there's a ton of sexism and racism, which the characters acknowledge and which Nicole tries to resist as much as she can, but which is so thoroughly baked into the society that it's mostly an obstacle that has to be endured. This is not the book, or series, to read if you're looking for triumph over discrimination or for women being allowed to be awesome without having to handle and soothe men's sexist feelings about their abilities. Nicole gets a clear victory arc, but it's a victory despite sexism rather than an end to it. The Relentless Moon did feel a bit long. There are a lot of scene-setting preliminaries before Nicole leaves for the Moon, and I'm not sure all of them were necessary at that length. Nicole also spends a lot of time being suspicious of everyone and second-guessing her theories, and at a few points I thought that dragged. But once things start properly happening, I thoroughly enjoyed the technological details and the thought that Kowal put into the mix of sabotage, accidents, and ill-advised human behavior that Nicole has to sort through. The last half of the book is the best, which is always a good property for a book to have. The eating disorder subplot made me extremely uncomfortable for reasons that are partly peculiar to me, but outside of that, this is a solid entry in the series and fills in some compelling details of what was happening on the other end of the intermittent radio messages Elma received. If you've enjoyed the series to date, you will probably enjoy this installment as well. But if you didn't like the handling of sexism and racism as deeply ingrained social forces that can at best be temporarily bypassed, be warned that The Relentless Moon continues the same theme. Also, if you're squeamish about medical conditions in your fiction, be aware that the specific details of polio feature significantly in the book. Rating: 7 out of 10

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