Summer Reading-Infinite Jest

So I’ve set out on a summer reading journey, tackling David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, all 981 pages, an additional 388 footnotes, which tacks on 96 more pages. Not the kind of reading assignment one tackles frivolously. Staying power is required.

One of the readers at Infinite Summer, the focal point of a community read highlighting Wallace’s most famous, and oft talked about work, described it as being "claustrophobic."

I'm 227 pages in and I think I've reached a point where I'm not turning back. Because of that, I'll be sparse here at Words Matter. I did post my first in what will probably be one of a few posts about the experience of reading a book like Infinite Jest, a rarity in today's digital world. You can find it over at Write in Maine.

Looking for an exit ramp

A few weeks ago, my son told me that he’s adopted a new morning routine, one that involves putting pen to paper rather than booting up his laptop. Since he’s on the south side of age 30 (an arbitrary demarcation of trustworthiness), I admit that I immediately snapped to attention.

He told me that his rationale for writing, sans computer, was his recognition that technology was negatively impacting his productivity as a writer. He reasoned that since he awoke at 4:30 am (a full 2 ½ hours prior to his work departure), this was early enough an hour to be moving his writing forward, yet he was keenly aware that time was being wasted. Astutely, he saw that it was technology’s lure via the web—its information (neither good, nor bad) preening, beckoning him in the dark, a mouse click, or a few key strokes away, all he had to do was depart from his writing task at hand and it could be his—was a supreme waster of his time to write.

When he told me this, something resonated with me. Eureka!! My own morning writing routine, one that I’ve maintained for more than five years, had been co-opted by web surfing for information. Given that I have an hour for writing pursuits in the morning before I have to depart for the office, I had begun filling it with peeks at box scores via MLB.com, reading a couple of well-written literary blogs, and before I knew it, my hour for writing had been reduced to 15 minutes, or less. When I did the quick calculation, it was apparent that I was pissing away writing time to the tune of 2-3 hours per week, and a more significant portion of monthly writing time. Since I require a day job to stay ensconced in necessary materials (i.e. food and shelter), I recognized something had to go if I have any aspirations of continuing to produce a book every year, or two.

Returning to methods that have served mankind well pre-internet is no earth-shattering revelation. Much like television, the digital elements of the internet lure you in, casting a stupor, dulling your senses and more often than not, dispatch the writing muse off to visit some other more worthy soul.

Writers and thinkers more astute than me have recognized technology’s deadening qualities, recognizing it as a killer of creativity. Names like Wendell Berry, Neil Postman and Jacques Ellul have all written eloquently and voluminously on the topic. No less an “authority” than Michael Lewis weighed in on the subject way back in 2001 with his book, Next: The Future Just Happened, in which he closes the book with a chapter titled, “The Unabomber Had A Point.”

Rather than heed these warnings, and the cautionary caveats of other like-minded people, lazy non-intellectuals immediately get their hackles up when their beloved technology is challenged. Interestingly, they don’t even know why they’re so put out when technology and the internet come under attack, just that it holds a pseudo-religious sway over their undernourished worldviews.

Men and women that have long ago gone soft mentally, forsaking the heavy lifting of the mind, don’t bat an eye in lobbing ad hominem attacks at men (and women) who put forth strong intellectual arguments against a blind embrace of technology.

While I wouldn’t put my son in the same league with these intellectual giants, at the same time, he’s no lightweight when it comes to considering life’s thorny questions. Likewise, he’s far from being a neo-Luddite, a common refrain hurled at thinkers like Postman, and in particular, Berry. Without an axe to grind, Mark recognizes that an aspiring writer has regular demands made upon his time from living life, and that there are a finite number of hours available each day, period. For him, it’s all about the productivity factor.

On the other hand, for the past decade, or longer, I’ve listened to all the claims made about technology, and in particular, the information super highway. All of these promises and purported benefits have begun to ring hollow.

When I first hung a right and took the onramp and merged amidst the world wide web, it was akin to standing on a vast ridge, overlooking a wide-open frontier, as far as my eye (and imagination) could see. The vista seemed fraught with positives and great promise. Limitless access to information seemed too good to be true (remember the adage, “if it seems too good to be true…).

Since I’ve always been someone that was (and remains) hungry to learn and continue to push back against my own intellectual limits, the internet (interwebs?) seemed like a perfect new development. Instead, 10 years on, I’m now attuned to my own laziness, or maybe, an ease with taking liberties with shortcuts. All of this crept in, like a thief in the night, with my laziness masquerading as intellectual curiosity.

So, how do you combat it, short of canceling cable and internet, or going off the grid?

For me, I’ve tried to remember what life was like before I had the internet at my fingertips. How did I gather information? Print was the primary method; books, newspapers, and other publications. Obviously, the local library was a resource.

I’m not going to get all pious (and hypocritical) on my readers and tell you that I no longer use technology because you know how untruthful that would be, given that I’m still blogging an all.

What I am doing this summer, however, is decreasing my time mindlessly surfing for information. I’ve cut down on my participation with social media. I’m reading books, including this one. I’m also back to listening to baseball via the radio mainly, which allows me to read or write, and not be a slave to the constant flux of digital images in the evening.

I'll continue to post to my blog (s), but probably not daily. When I have something to share that has involved some thought and effort at setting it down first, on pen and paper, then I'll labor a bit and form it into something semi-intelligent, and then post it. I'm learning that it's is better to ruminate first, rather than immediately regurgitate. These posts will be a bit longer, and most likely an essay, or something resembling one.

Where will all of this take me? I’m not sure, but eventually, I hope that my increased writing productivity means that another book will materialize in the future.

Fathers and sons

I don’t really know the history about how we ended up with Father’s Day. I could go to Wikipedia and cut and paste it into my post, but since I’m writing my first drafts by hand, on a legal pad, trying to minimize time wasted on the web, I don’t have this option. Furthermore, of late, I’m attempting to do as many things as possible with a pre-internet mentality.

For me, the father/son relationship has often been a tenuous one. I’ve spent portions of 47 years loving, but not liking my father, and trying to avoid duplicating his mistakes. That’s not to say that my father didn’t have positive traits that he passed on to me, because he certainly did. It’s just that my dad and I were so different.

Every father/son struggles with the generational divide. Whether it’s music, fashion, drugs, religion, or even political ideology, there are always pitfalls bound to cause friction in the father/son dynamic.

Before I became a father myself, I was clueless about understanding that dynamic. When my own son was born, I gained a new perspective. I was now standing in my father’s shoes. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and I didn’t suddenly start spending every weekend doing projects with my dad, but I now began cutting him slack for the first time.

When Mark was born, my wife and I were living in Indiana, 1,500 miles from our parents. Mary’s parents came out to visit us three times during the four years we were marooned in the middle of the county. Because of my father’s aversion to flight, my parents never made it out.

I’ve gotten better in later years, finding some common ground that I can cover with my dad. We still can’t talk about politics, religion, nationalized healthcare, guns, sustainable development and many others things. I’m learning to steer clear of these.

I don’t like to admit it, but I’m much like my dad in many ways, however. I have a short fuse. I lack patience with people who don’t see the world in the exact way that I do. I am capable of being a “bull” about getting any project done, which has allowed me to will two books to completion.

When I was younger, and my baseball career was on an arc upward, my father would squat in the backyard and stab at fastballs I flung towards him, as I worked on aspects of my delivery and mechanics. He rarely missed one of my baseball games from the age of nine, up through high school, when I was the local pitching phenom, destined for great things at the University of Maine.

Alas, shoulder woes derailed bigger and better baseball dreams for me, and my father. I still remember (and it causes me pain) coming off the mound at Deering Oaks in Portland, after a particularly awful performance the fall of my freshman year at UMO, and knowing that I didn’t want to do this anymore. I sat on the grass between games with my parents, not interested in my mother’s sandwiches, and saying that I was thinking of quitting. My often stoic father was near tears, trying to will me onward, thinking that it was just a matter of mechanics that we could once again work out in the backyard. No amount of explanation would convince him that it was part physical (my shoulder was shot), but more the lack of desire that I once had to try to throw a baseball past an opposition hitter.

From there, our relationship became fractured, as marriage and religious choices created a chasm that I no longer was willing to cross.

Indiana and fundamentalist Xianity imposed necessary distance between us. Since they wouldn’t fly, and driving didn’t occur to them, I didn’t see my father and mother for two years. We’d visit once, mid-exile, when both our parents paid for plane tickets bringing us back east for two weeks.

Back in Maine, I got another glimpse of my dad’s emotional side when we deplaned in Portland, and he saw his grandson for the first time.

****

Mark facilitated a thaw in our father/son détente.

It wasn’t the equivalent to a two-state solution, but at least it deescalated some of our heated rhetoric from the past. Upon returning to Indiana, I attempted to write semi-regularly to my father (and mother).

The Bible has a passage where it states that “the father’s sins are visited upon the sons.” My own parenting style incorporated elements of my father’s, with patience not always being one of my own virtues.

Spending as much time bonding with my son when he was small was something that was generationally different between my father and I. I was also six years younger as a new parent than my father was.

Just like my own dad, however, when Mark got older, I was there to play catch with him, coach Little League, drive him to hockey, and bond with him via sports, much like my own father and I did.

And like my own dad, I also set the bar quite high with expectations, and even said things that I now look back on with deep regret, for I know how it made me feel when my father was tough on me for an 0 for 4 night at the plate when I was 11, or 12. I also put unrealistic pressure on Mark to be perfect.

Mark’s own mother was more of a buffer. Unlike my own mom, who knew little about baseball and would often duplicate my father’s disappointment when I fell short of perfection in baseball (and many other things), Mary was more sanguine in her post-game assessments, providing Mark with a hedge from my dark moods.

Mark is now 25, and lives 3,000 miles away. I’m amazed that given his less than perfect father, he has become an amazing young man (after being pretty amazing during each successive stage of his development).

While we shared and continue to share a bond through sports, we also connect on a number of other levels, including books, and developing our respective writing crafts. Six weeks ago, I got to attend a major book event, the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, when I visited him in California. Our Saturday, walking amongst booths filled with small press books, and new fiction showed me that our bond is much stronger than shared baseball experiences.

This morning, I got a call from Mark at 5:30 am, west coast time. He’d been up all night working, he said. He just wanted to call to wish me “happy Father’s Day,” and we talked about sports, life, and the wine tasting Mary and I are headed to later today.

His call was all I needed to know that while I wasn’t the perfect father, I had been good enough, just like my own dad.

Army of hate?

There have been on-going reports about neo-Nazi recruitment of Iraqi War vets, and members of various right-wing hate groups swelling the ranks of the U.S. military, including the security bulletin issued by the Dept. of Homeland Security. That one caused the right-wing noise machine to go batshit.

Now Matt Kennard at Salon comes out with this (via Orcinus):

Since the launch of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the U.S. military has struggled to recruit and reenlist troops. As the conflicts have dragged on, the military has loosened regulations, issuing "moral waivers" in many cases, allowing even those with criminal records to join up. Veterans suffering post-traumatic stress disorder have been ordered back to the Middle East for second and third tours of duty.

The lax regulations have also opened the military's doors to neo-Nazis, white supremacists and gang members — with drastic consequences. Some neo-Nazis have been charged with crimes inside the military, and others have been linked to recruitment efforts for the white right. A recent Department of Homeland Security report, "Rightwing Extremism: Current Economic and Political Climate Fueling Resurgence in Radicalization and Recruitment," stated: "The willingness of a small percentage of military personnel to join extremist groups during the 1990s because they were disgruntled, disillusioned, or suffering from the psychological effects of war is being replicated today." Many white supremacists join the Army to secure
training for, as they see it, a future domestic race war. Others claim to be shooting Iraqis not to pursue the military's strategic goals but because killing "hajjis" is their duty as white militants.

Soldiers' associations with extremist groups, and their racist actions, contravene a host of military statutes instituted in the past three decades. But during the "war on terror," U.S. armed forces have turned a blind eye on their own regulations. A 2005 Department of Defense report states, "Effectively, the military has a 'don't
ask, don't tell' policy pertaining to extremism. If individuals can perform satisfactorily, without making their extremist opinions overt … they are likely to be able to complete their contracts."

I'm not doubting any of these reports. In fact, I was of the opinion that because we are currently engaged in conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan that military recruiters would be experiencing difficulty with meeting their recruitment quotas.

Several weeks ago, I had the opportunity to have a long conversation with a recruiter for the National Guard. I asked him that question, and I was surprised by his answer.

He told me the exact opposite of my assumption--he could be increasingly selective in his choices of candidates. Given the economic downturn, and his branch's generous tuition program for college, he was getting a better class of recruit than ever before. He told me that the "typical" recuit from the past--the kid that underachieved, tending to get poor grades, and not have much in the manner of successful outcomes up to that point--was getting bypassed by the best and the brightest, seeing the Guard as a positive option for them.

So, who to believe? I didn't think the National Guard recruiter was trying to blow smoke up my ass, but maybe he was doing exactly that, as an attempt to counter the reports coming out about our service organizations. Or, maybe his experience as a Guard recruiter was entirely different than the other branches.

Either way, it is somewhat troubling if our military has become a training ground for militias and other hate groups. It is also problematic if the only options for college grads with increasing college debt is to do a tour, or two in a battle zone.

Finishing what you start

I read with interest John Schlegel's article for MLB.com, about the uptick in complete games this year in the majors.

In this era of sub-100 pitch counts, and managers babying over-priced arms, it seems counterintuitive to put much money on the complete game ever making a comeback. But Schlegel indicates that complete games are up again this year, which shows upward movement on the trend line that began last season.

According to Schlegel, complete games in the major leagues hit their low point in 2007, with 114 total. Last year, the number rose to 136. If this year's pace is maintained, pitchers could challenge the 170 mark.

I have always found it odd to treat the human arm like a tube of toothpaste, thinking that there are a finite number of "squeezes" in that tube.

Back when Nolan Ryan and other pitchers of his era were routinely throwing 140-150 pitches per start, and completing their games, going every fourth day, I might add, fewer pitches broke down. This may have had something to do with the mindset and toughness of the pitchers of that era. They didn't expect, and never received the kind of kid-glove treatment today's young pitchers receive.

Roy Halladay of the Blue Jays has the complete game mindset, as does young Zack Greinke, of the Kansas City Royals. Greinke has five and Halladay three, leading the parade. Other pitchers have been getting into the groove of the complete game of late also, like Jered Weaver of the Angels, who has two this year, having never thrown one before this season.

Speaking of Ryan, he's back with the Texas Rangers, serving as president for the club. In this capacity, he's been quite outspoken against pitch counts for the team's pitchers. It's early yet, but the Rangers pitching has been as consistent as any Texas staff in quite some time. In fact, it's probably been 30 years since the club ran out consistent starters, going back to 1977, when the rotation consisted of Doyle Alexander, the ageless Gaylord Perry, Bert Blyleven, and Len Barker. Roger Moret, former Yankee killer was also on their roster.

I heard Sox manager Terry Francona, on the Dale & Holley Show the other day. The conversation was about John Lester and the amount of innings he logged last year and concerns Sox management might have for him this year. Basically, the issue was pitch counts.

Francona, to his credit, is less concerned with specific pitch counts, as he is with Lester and other pitchers, "staying within their delivery," especially when they get deep in the game, or approach the 100-pitch threshold. I took this to mean that Francona was referring to what old-schoolers used to refer to as mechanics.

Francona is right. If a pitcher begins straying from his delivery and is obviously laboring, given the strength of the Sox bullpen, then by all means get them out of there, before they get hurt, or blow up the game.

On the flipside, if Lester, Beckett, or even Wakefield are dealing through seven, don't be afraid to bring them out in the 8th inning. Francona, to his credit has done that of late. Lester's recent complete game is a testament to the soundness of that strategy.

On the subject of Lester; has there been a more dominant pitcher in baseball of late? His last three starts have shown that with his stuff, when it's right, is untouchable. Three straight double-digit strikeout totals over his recent starts, which by the way is the first time it's been done in Red Sox history by a southpaw.

Now that Lester and Beckett are pointed in the right direction, it would be nice if the grossly over-compensated Dice-K could give us more than five innings per start.