Dan Dennett talks about toxic memes and their virus-like ability to wipe out entire cultures. Dennett’s assertion that memes are, in some cases (communism, capitalism, Islam, Catholicism, and many more), essentially deadly parasites is an interesting perspective.

As interesting as Dennett’s ideas are, I tend to take a more simplistic view. While memes may be wiping out cultures, languages, and traditions I don’t blame the meme as Dennett does. I think it’s as natural an occurrence as ordinary, every-day pack behavior: The dominant “pack” – or culture/society/sect in our case – will ultimately be the most genetically successful.

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I was browsing around Project Gutenberg today and came across a 1910 translation of The Art of War by Sun Tzu, translated by Lionel Giles. It turned out to be the same translation I was first exposed to.

I remember my stepsister buying a very old copy for herself at a used book store in Key West. I’d heard of the book (who hasn’t?), but this was the first time I had actually had my hands on a copy. I read the first two pages in the parking lot and subsequently resigned myself to read as much as possible on the ride home, even if it made me motion sick.

This particular translation begins with the legend of Sun Tzu’s rise to the rank of General and follows with a lengthy, some-times-interesting/some-times-boring discussion of the main text’s history. The legend of Sun Tzu’s rise, which involves beheading the king’s two favorite concubines (much to the dismay of the king), stuck with me for years. At first the story seems simple, but there are many subtle lessons in it that are likely to be missed on the first reading. It was worth the motion sickness.

Though I was unable to make it to the actual Art of War text during our drive back to Marathon, the desire to read the book stayed with me for several years until I finally bought and read The Art of War: Complete Text and Commentaries, translated by Thomas Cleary, which includes The Art of War as well as several related texts. When I finished the book, I immediately flipped back to the beginning and began reading it again. It is that good.

I am very happy to have rediscovered the Lionel Giles translation. I spent some time today reading the introduction once again, and came across a passage in critique of Confucianism that I thought was especially relevant to the War on Terror and it’s prominence in the debates for next year’s elections:

“Military weapons are the means used by the Sage to punish violence and cruelty, to give peace to troublous times, to remove difficulties and dangers, and to succor those who are in peril. Every animal with blood in its veins and horns on its head will fight when it is attacked. How much more so will man, who carries in his breast the faculties of love and hatred, joy and anger! When he is pleased, a feeling of affection springs up within him; when angry, his poisoned sting is brought into play. That is the natural law which governs his being…. What then shall be said of those scholars of our time, blind to all great issues, and without any appreciation of relative values, who can only bark out their stale formulas about ‘virtue’ and ‘civilization,’ condemning the use of military weapons? They will surely bring our country to impotence and dishonor and the loss of her rightful heritage; or, at the very least, they will bring about invasion and rebellion, sacrifice of territory and general enfeeblement. Yet they obstinately refuse to modify the position they have taken up. The truth is that, just as in the family the teacher must not spare the rod, and punishments cannot be dispensed with in the State, so military chastisement can never be allowed to fall into abeyance in the Empire. All one can say is that this power will be exercised wisely by some, foolishly by others, and that among those who bear arms some will be loyal and others rebellious.” –Ssu-ma Ch`ien, (91 B.C.E.)

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I finished Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer about two weeks ago. This was a disturbing book that covers a history of Mormon fundamentalism as a background to the murder of Brenda Lafferty and her daughter Erica by her brothers-in-law, Ron and Dan Lafferty.

I wasn't as enthusiastic about Under the Banner of Heaven as Krakauer's other books. It was an excellent and effective book, but it was depressing in a way that made me recall a lot of my teenage angst. Given recent events in my life, this wasn't necessarily a good timing.

Perhaps the most fascinating thing I learned from this book is the early Mormon emphasis on communicating directly with God. In the many religious debates I've been in, it often comes up that I've never had a "religious experience" – at least not a "real" one. If I had, it is argued, I would have the same beliefs as my partner in conversation. Under the Banner of Heaven is a good illustration of how arbitrary these experiences can be.

I would recommend this book to anyone who considers themselves more religious than most, no matter what your religion.

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Today I finished reading It's Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong. The book is an autobiography of Armstrong, and focuses on his struggle with testicular cancer and how it affected his career and his life.

I started reading this book knowing virtually nothing about him. The first few chapters caught me by surprise. Young Lance Armstrong wasn't very likable; he was cocky, aggressive, and he showboated. This kept me reading on – as surprised as I was by Armstrong's annoying personality, I was relieved that he wasn't the innocent, care-free pre-cancer cliche.

Of course, as the book progresses, Lance becomes more likable. He's very frank and honest about his life, his attitudes, and even the most embarrassing details of cancer and treatment. His never-ending aggression becomes an asset that sees him through some very dark days.

Eventually the cancer is in remission, he meets and marries Kristin Richard, and then goes on to win Le Tour de France, the most prestigious road bicycle race in the world, twice in a row (then five more consecutive times after the book was published).

I'm very glad I read this book. Lance Armstrong seems to have an innate "never give up" attitude that I admire, and that I strive to have my self. Though I haven't been through cancer, I'm familiar with moments in which it seems like all is lost, that there is no point in continuing… but you continue anyway.

"Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever."

–Lance Armstrong

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For Christmas I received a $25 Barnes & Noble gift card. Today, I hoped to take advantage of the after-Christmas sales and spend it. I got three books, one of which was Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer.

As I thumbed through it, I started thinking about how deeply affected I have been by his other books; all of which I have read in 2006.

I started reading Into Thin Air just before by stepfather died. I was glad to have this book along with me at the funeral in Walpole. As I dealt with death, near death, and family drama, the book was a welcome escape. The problems of mountain climbers at 29,028 feet – hypoxia, cold, wind, delirium – all seemed so wonderfully simple.

Once I finished Into Thin Air, I ran out and purchased Into The Wild. Into The Wild is by far my favorite Krakauer book. It is about Chris McCandless, a supremely idealistic young man with a will perhaps too strong for his own good. McCandless gives up his worldly possessions (including his $25,000 life savings) and walks into the Alaskan wilderness, never to be seen alive again. Krakaue’s account of McCandless’s life is compassionate, but not without deservedly harsh criticism. It is hard to say weather I liked the story of Chris McCandless more, or the way in which the story is told. My favorite part of Into The Wild is an autobiographical essay on climbing The Devils Thumb by Krakauer, who identifies deeply with – but finds it difficult to fully understand – McCandless.

At this point, I became a serious Krakauer fan. Inspired, I had signed up for hang gliding, started rock climbing, and had gone whitewater rafting. Krakauer’s books showed me something I hadn’t known I was looking for – a new way of pushing my physical and mental limits. When I closed my eyes to sleep at night I had fantastic hypnagogic visions of mountains, caves, and harsh landscapes. On nights when I had been hang gliding, I would close my eyes and experience nothingness; no visions, no fantasies, only the deep and complete void of rest.

The last book I read by Krakauer was Eiger Dreams; a collection of essays on climbing. I don’t remember disliking any of the essays, but there were a few that I especially loved. At the top of the list would have to be Gill, an essay about John Gill, the "father of modern bouldering," and The Devils Thumb, which includes a description of a landscape that made my head spin.

For these great books, Jon Krakauer is My Favorite Author of the Year.

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