As the title implies, Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, was fascinating, but I counted three grammatical errors and, to be honest, that is all that stands out in my mind.
Gladwell is an extremely talented writer and statistician, so I was thoroughly disappointed by these mistakes. However, I will forgive him long enough to describe something about the book I found interesting...
One of the initial case studies of the book is about a guy who instinctively knows whether or not a marriage will work out. He has studied facial expressions and reactions for so long that, within two minutes, he can predict with 90% accuracy how a marriage will turn out. That's incredible! One thing I wondered, though, was whether or not he told his subjects the results of his analysis. How would you feel if some guy watched you and your spouse interact for ten minutes and then told you that within the next five years you would be divorced? Yikes. I'd be pissed. But more importantly, I'd start lining up a divorce lawyer... That, however, would be a self-fulfilling prophecy, so I suppose he can't tell his subjects the results or the accuracy would be compromised.
I've read this post about six times to make sure I don't have a grammatical error, so back to the original point: grammar is important, people! Get it together.
Currently Reading:
Gut Feelings: The Intelligence of the Unconscious, by Gerd Gigerenzer
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
What Kind of Smoker Am I?
I'm not one. And odds are in my favor that I never will be. If I was one, though, what kind would I be? In the final chapter of Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell, the US "smoking epidimic," types of smokers, and ultimate causes of smoking are analyzed. While the results he discusses are, frankly, predictable, it got me thinking about why I don't smoke, never have smoked, and have no desire to smoke in the future. I mean, I'm a teenager, I spend several hours a day in my car commuting (meaning I have time to do it), and I have easy access to cigarettes; so what gives?
Gladwell says that three things influence a person's tendency to smoke: genetic predisposition, how "taboo" smoking is in the family, and peer pressure. In theory, the more tolerant a person's body is to nicotene, the more likely the person will smoke. The more rebellious it appears to be, the more likely a person (especially a teenager) is to try it. The more peer pressure to smoke, the more likely a person is to give in to it. However, Gladwell never gave a concrete explanation of which aspect carries the most weight (although his presentation suggests that there is a pecking order). I am not a doctor, nor do I have anything but my own experiences to go on, but I am going to make a conjecture: parents' attitudes toward experimenting with cigarettes is the ultimate determinant.
First, I'd like to rule out genetic predisposition. My paternal grandmother smoked heavily. My father has the occassional cigar while mowing the yard. My mother was an avid smoker in her teenage years, quit when she was pregnant with me, and a few months ago picked it up again. Genetically, I am not necessarily predisposed to nicotene addiction, but my body could handle it (and probably in very large amounts if my grandmother is any indication).
Second, I'd like to rule out peer pressure. My circle of friends consists largely of college students, many of whom smoke. I am frequently offered cigarettes ("C'mon, just one. It's not gonna kill ya..."). Occassionally, I end up riding in a car with someone who wants to light up. There is plenty of pressure, but I give a polite "No, thanks," and take a pass on the cigarettes.
Now, I'll make the case for parental attitudes. My mother's parents are incredibly strict: my mom would have gotten the crap beat out of her if my grandmother knew about her smoking habit as a teenager. Smoking was absolutely not permitted in her family: the feeling of badass rebellion was just a puff away for my mom. My father's family, on the other hand, would have had no problem with him smoking. He didn't feel compelled to smoke.
I have had a drag of one cigar: I might have been 6 at the time. I saw my dad smoking and asked if I could try. He let me have a puff and I hated it. End of story. At no point in my teenage years have I ever felt that I was rebelling if I picked up smoking. And I haven't.
Or maybe I am just so genetically similar to my father that I run no risk of nicotene addiction and have an utter disregard for my peers' opinions of me (and therefore withstand peer pressure), in which case genetics is the most important component. But I'd like to give my dad's wisdom and foresight the benefit of the doubt.
Gladwell says that three things influence a person's tendency to smoke: genetic predisposition, how "taboo" smoking is in the family, and peer pressure. In theory, the more tolerant a person's body is to nicotene, the more likely the person will smoke. The more rebellious it appears to be, the more likely a person (especially a teenager) is to try it. The more peer pressure to smoke, the more likely a person is to give in to it. However, Gladwell never gave a concrete explanation of which aspect carries the most weight (although his presentation suggests that there is a pecking order). I am not a doctor, nor do I have anything but my own experiences to go on, but I am going to make a conjecture: parents' attitudes toward experimenting with cigarettes is the ultimate determinant.
First, I'd like to rule out genetic predisposition. My paternal grandmother smoked heavily. My father has the occassional cigar while mowing the yard. My mother was an avid smoker in her teenage years, quit when she was pregnant with me, and a few months ago picked it up again. Genetically, I am not necessarily predisposed to nicotene addiction, but my body could handle it (and probably in very large amounts if my grandmother is any indication).
Second, I'd like to rule out peer pressure. My circle of friends consists largely of college students, many of whom smoke. I am frequently offered cigarettes ("C'mon, just one. It's not gonna kill ya..."). Occassionally, I end up riding in a car with someone who wants to light up. There is plenty of pressure, but I give a polite "No, thanks," and take a pass on the cigarettes.
Now, I'll make the case for parental attitudes. My mother's parents are incredibly strict: my mom would have gotten the crap beat out of her if my grandmother knew about her smoking habit as a teenager. Smoking was absolutely not permitted in her family: the feeling of badass rebellion was just a puff away for my mom. My father's family, on the other hand, would have had no problem with him smoking. He didn't feel compelled to smoke.
I have had a drag of one cigar: I might have been 6 at the time. I saw my dad smoking and asked if I could try. He let me have a puff and I hated it. End of story. At no point in my teenage years have I ever felt that I was rebelling if I picked up smoking. And I haven't.
Or maybe I am just so genetically similar to my father that I run no risk of nicotene addiction and have an utter disregard for my peers' opinions of me (and therefore withstand peer pressure), in which case genetics is the most important component. But I'd like to give my dad's wisdom and foresight the benefit of the doubt.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Technically It Wouldn't Have Been Incest...
Wuthering Height's Catherine and Heathcliff, the classic love/tragedy story. Best friends? For sure. Brother and sister? Kinda. Lovers? Nope - and that's the kicker. They really were exact matches: same wild spirit, mutual self-sacrifice exclusively for the other, and perfect unspoken understanding.
Let me state a disclaimer before I go any further: I'm a kid, "love" is not my thing. The word gets thrown around loosely (and my age group perpetuates the problem, I know). However, I can positively identify "true love" when I see it, and Catherine and Heathcliff have got it.
The funny thing is though, their love was not supposed to work. It didn't. It couldn't, or else its unrelenting hold on both of them would not have been as plainly and indisputably obvious as it was. Catherine sacrificed herself by marrying Edgar so that she and Heathcliff (most importantly, Heathcliff) would not have to live in poverty. The contrast between Edgar and Heathcliff had to be made, otherwise the perfect match between Catherine and Heathcliff could not be fully realized. And Heathcliff is tortured without Catherine. He is wretched and evil, feeling only pain and misery that he is compelled to inflict on others so he does not have to bear it alone. Ultimately, they could not be together because they were the same person: willing to sacrifice their own happiness for the other, which in the end left the score at sacrifices: 2, happiness: 0.
Let me state a disclaimer before I go any further: I'm a kid, "love" is not my thing. The word gets thrown around loosely (and my age group perpetuates the problem, I know). However, I can positively identify "true love" when I see it, and Catherine and Heathcliff have got it.
The funny thing is though, their love was not supposed to work. It didn't. It couldn't, or else its unrelenting hold on both of them would not have been as plainly and indisputably obvious as it was. Catherine sacrificed herself by marrying Edgar so that she and Heathcliff (most importantly, Heathcliff) would not have to live in poverty. The contrast between Edgar and Heathcliff had to be made, otherwise the perfect match between Catherine and Heathcliff could not be fully realized. And Heathcliff is tortured without Catherine. He is wretched and evil, feeling only pain and misery that he is compelled to inflict on others so he does not have to bear it alone. Ultimately, they could not be together because they were the same person: willing to sacrifice their own happiness for the other, which in the end left the score at sacrifices: 2, happiness: 0.
Breaking Yawn
'09 started off poorly with regards to my reading endeavors. I began with Breaking Dawn (the fourth and final installment in the Twilight series). It sucked. The best part was on the last page when it said "The End." Seriously.
Twilight enthusiasts talk almost exclusively about the main characters: Edward (the "dream man"/vampire), Bella (the weak, pathetic human girl that loves Edward), Jacob (Bella's best friend/werewolf), or Alice (Edward's insightful, future-predicting "sister"), I found myself disliking all of them at one point or another (or throughout the entire series...Bella). People think these characters are the heroes, the all-stars, the ideals. They are not. At the end of the day, these characters are confused, irrational, indecisive, undisciplined children. The only character that had any substance, any backbone, is probably the one least mentioned and most universally disliked: Leah.
Leah's a bitch. Most of the time. She is the only female werewolf in Jacob's pack and, long story short, resents everyone for it. Leah, however, is a real trooper: she puts up with the guys and their crap; she is strong and independent; she always thinks rationally; and she is the only character in the entire series (an agonizing four books) who sticks to her convictions and never falters. I appreciated that: she was reliable in every sense of the word. I still have not mentioned her best quality: loyalty. Leah dislikes and resents Jacob (whether it's fair or not is debatable), but he is part of her pack and when he is threatened, she stands up for him, against huge opposition. That won me over. You go, Leah.
Twilight enthusiasts talk almost exclusively about the main characters: Edward (the "dream man"/vampire), Bella (the weak, pathetic human girl that loves Edward), Jacob (Bella's best friend/werewolf), or Alice (Edward's insightful, future-predicting "sister"), I found myself disliking all of them at one point or another (or throughout the entire series...Bella). People think these characters are the heroes, the all-stars, the ideals. They are not. At the end of the day, these characters are confused, irrational, indecisive, undisciplined children. The only character that had any substance, any backbone, is probably the one least mentioned and most universally disliked: Leah.
Leah's a bitch. Most of the time. She is the only female werewolf in Jacob's pack and, long story short, resents everyone for it. Leah, however, is a real trooper: she puts up with the guys and their crap; she is strong and independent; she always thinks rationally; and she is the only character in the entire series (an agonizing four books) who sticks to her convictions and never falters. I appreciated that: she was reliable in every sense of the word. I still have not mentioned her best quality: loyalty. Leah dislikes and resents Jacob (whether it's fair or not is debatable), but he is part of her pack and when he is threatened, she stands up for him, against huge opposition. That won me over. You go, Leah.
In the Beginning...
Lawton created the 52 in 52 Challenge.
I've been looking for an excuse to haul myself off the couch and away from House and Scrubs.
In his blog, Lawton has chosen to reflect on a quote from each book. I won't steal his idea. I will write a brief reflection on one character, or the relationship between two characters, and might even try to compare him/her/them to some modern pop culture icon(s). We'll see.
52 books. 52 weeks. Game on.
I've been looking for an excuse to haul myself off the couch and away from House and Scrubs.
In his blog, Lawton has chosen to reflect on a quote from each book. I won't steal his idea. I will write a brief reflection on one character, or the relationship between two characters, and might even try to compare him/her/them to some modern pop culture icon(s). We'll see.
52 books. 52 weeks. Game on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
