Moose and Financial Regulation?

Everyone knows you aren't supposed to judge a book by its cover, but no such rule exists for titles. Recently, on an unrelated book search, I came across a UTP book creatively titled Moose Pastures and Mergers by Christopher Armstrong. I was immediately interested in finding out exactly what a scholarly contribution on moose pastures would entail. However, a quick glance at the subtitle, The Ontario Securities Commission and the Regulation of Share Markets in Canada, 1940-1980, informed me that the topic of the book wasn't quite what the title initially suggested. Far from turning me off the subject (finance and economics have never been my chosen interests), I became even more interested in learning how such disparate topics as moose pastures and financial regulation were related.

As it turns out, 'moose pastures' is a term that was given to the barren land of the Precambrian Shield that was fraudulently pitched to the public as a sound investment for mineral prospecting. This type of deception, resulting from false and misleading claims, had become so problematic by the 1950s that the Ontario Securities Commission was under increased pressure to protect would-be investors. However, as Armstrong illustrates, despite the best intentions, the OSC ended up being hindered by the same folkloric beliefs as the prospectors: the notion that the most significant discoveries were made by independent prospectors, and that buying penny shares in such ventures offered the ordinary investor the best opportunity for huge returns. As a result, the OSC always fell short of offering share holders the depth of protection they so clearly needed.

As Armstrong transitions to the second half of the book, which deals with the wave of corporate mergers in the 60s and 70s, the overall theme of how best to regulate the market becomes increasingly evident. During this period law makers were faced with the unenviable task of finding a happy medium between the expansionist desires of brokers and companies on the one hand, and the protective needs of public on the other. The former felt that the only acceptable form of regulation was self-regulation, whereas the latter sought tougher rules to protect them from the aftermath of incidents such as the Windfall Mines affair of 1964, in which numerous stocks were sold at inflated prices only to discover that the proposed land had no significant quantities of any minerals. As Armstrong continually demonstrates, with both moose pasture shares and mergers, the OSC was forced to balance the capitalistic demands of big business and investors' desire for financial security.

Although these events happened roughly 50 years ago, the decisions made by the OSC and various other government and regulatory bodies have had a profound effect on the investment practices of today; doubts about the virtues of self-regulation grew through the 1970s and to this day investor protection remains an important principle of securities regulation. With almost uncanny foresight, Armstrong also commented on some of the financial complexities that are all too familiar to us now: "the complexities of 'hedges' and 'index funds' are such that compelling full disclosure about a mining claim or a takeover bid may seem almost simple by comparison." Perhaps in light of the recent financial meltdown and current backlash against new financial regulations, the cases presented in Moose Pastures and Mergers are of even greater relevance now than when the book was originally published.

Three Cups for Peace

Everyone has heard the claim that religion is the root of all war. While I don't wholly agree, I do think there is no doubting that religion is very often one of the major factors in war. The problem with that conclusion is that it is an oversimplification of very complex problems. The extremist religious convictions that call for violent solutions to ideological problems do not just emerge fully formed from sacred scriptures. Regardless of what an ancient text dictates, few people will blindly risk their lives without the presence of other conditions such as poverty and indoctrination. In the case of northern Pakistan, poverty prevents villages from building schools, which allows the Saudi-backed madrassas to easily swoop in and educate young men in a culture of extremism and jihad.

In the West we are currently engaged in two wars with the aim of stopping militant Islam and bringing democracy to the Muslim world. Yet, progress, if any, has been slow and debatable, and much evidence lends credence to the argument that combat in Afghanistan and Iraq has only strengthened terrorist organizations. So, what then is the solution? We have used our might, and the results have not been strong enough to keep public opinion in favour of armed combat. Perhaps, instead of trying to force our ideology on an impoverished uneducated population, with centuries of history behind them to warrant a lack of trust, we should look instead at fixing the root causes of anti-Western hostilities.

Having recently read the amazing book Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin, I couldn't believe in this approach more. Greg's work as the founder and director of the Central Asian Institute over the past decade and a half has resulted in the creation of 78 schools throughout the remote regions of northern Pakistan and Afghanistan. As a result, children have access to education, which can allow them not only to improve their lives financially, but to learn the basic critical thinking skills necessary to reject extremism. Most importantly, from a world-relations perspective, Greg's work has given a face of peace and acceptance a region that tends to only encounter westerners from the other end of a pointed gun. In my humble opinion, this has done far more to bring peace and prosperity to the region than war ever could.

The title of the book is based on a Balti proverb: "The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family." I would like to rework that proverb to express the role learning can have on promoting peace: "The first time you read, you are a beginner. The second time you read, you are educated. The third time you read, you are enlightened."

Very Gradual Change We Can Hope For

So I finished The God Delusion yesterday by Richard Dawkins. From watching previous documentaries he has been in, such as The Root of All Evil and The Four Horsemen, and having visited The Richard Dawkins Foundation I was familiar with his unapologetic atheism before I cracked the spine* of his book. And to be perfectly honest, before reading his book I found the extremity of his position to be somewhat of a turnoff; the intense vitriol of the language he spews at religious followers almost discredits the "reasonable" side of atheism. The result of which was that I was somewhat apprehensive about how the book would resonate with me and thus wasn't leaning towards one response over the other.

Having finished The God Delusion I can now confidently say that Dawkins certainly has the evidence to back up his extreme beliefs—to an extent. His arguments for evolution and natural selection are confident and backed up by numerous scientific studies and observations. After tackling the 400-plus pages, no one with a rational, logical mind would disagree with the validity of evolution as an explanation for our 21st century existence.

My problem with Dawkins' rhetoric is his failure to definitively disprove the existence of God. Although he does an excellent job of demonstrating the fragility of the Bible as a source of evidence, this in and of itself is not enough to prove that God doesn't exist. However unlikely it is, there is always the possibility that God is out there and just did a piss-poor job of getting his written word out there. Dawkins seems to rely on the excellence—and excellent it is—of his argument for evolution as a mechanism to disprove religion. But, the existence of a better explanation doesn't completely nullify the former belief. Dawkins himself admits that he can't disprove the existence of God. And while I agree with him that the onus of proof should be on religion, and not the other way around, I suppose that I was expecting a bit more of a convincing argument from such a noted intellectual.

Where the real strength of the book is, in my humble opinion, is Dawkins' ability to illustrate the harm caused by even moderate religious sympathy. Having already forsaken my own belief in a higher power,  this was also the aspect of the book that contributed the most to my own personal understanding of the divide. I have always disagreed with the uneducated belief of my religious peers, but felt that eventually they would allow themselves to shed the dogmatic instruction of their youth and emerge as Plato's philosopher into the light of reason. It was only after Dawkins so succinctly argued against the mere labeling of a child by religious affiliation did I not realize how truly difficult it is to undo the intensive indoctrination we are exposed to as youth. How is one who grows up being labeled a Catholic child ever to tackle the ensuing identity crisis association with discarding one's religious beliefs?

The most disheartening part of the whole situation, for me, is when I apply Dawkins' arguments to our modern context. In light of the current religious extremism not only in the Middle East, but in Middle America, the cause for rational views towards spirituality is more pressing than ever. Two years ago, an impetus for change swept across our southern neighbor demanding a retraction of the status quo. Quickly, posters began to symbolize the beliefs of those who would no longer accept the wrongs that had been committed in our name. And with that in mind, I can find no more fitting way to end this piece than by sharing my favorite meme of that poster (to use another of Dawkins' famous terms) to draw attention to the cause of intellectual freedom and the quest for a secular society.

*Disclosure: I don't crack spines. In fact I loath the practice and have even trained my husband not to do so. I just like the expression.

Oh Freedom, Where Art Thou?

So I broke my rule of never buying new books in hardcover and bought Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. Moreover, I tend not to get too excited about books set in contemporary America. Reading for me--fiction or nonfiction--is another form of travel; both stem from my innate desire to experience new places, people, and ages. And lacking an interest to travel to 21st century America, I tend to turn away from such works. I am, however, happy to report that I surprised even myself, and fell for Freedom almost instantly. Although the story is captivating in and of itself, and is certainly well written, I found unraveling the characters' various quests for the titular goal of Freedom the most fascinating aspect of the piece.

Although it sometimes bordered on cheesy how every character--and story line--was a commentary on Freedom, looking past that I found a deep commentary on Franzen's view of true liberation. Whether it be Patty's quest to escape the overbearing apathy of her parents, or Walter's seemingly selfless need to save the environment from humanity, or Joey's desire to become financially and emotionally independent, or Richard's motivation to rid himself of the idealized expectations thrown upon him by Walter, each character was struggling, in his or her own way, to become free from the entanglement of their past and their family and friends populating the present. The main story line, Walter's efforts to preserve a parcel of land for the warbler in West Virginia, also speaks to the book's central theme.

As each character tries, fails, and then tries again to find freedom, the reader is faced with the fact that the freedom most people yearn for isn't just about a lack of restriction or outside influence or physical intrusion. That type of freedom, personified by Walter's alcoholic, homeless brother, is a hollowed, empty existence that when achieved, only fails to satisfy each character. It is only with the story drawing to a close that a sense of calm finally descends upon the Berglunds. But what is interesting is the cause. For it isn't the achievement of the freedom they initially sought, but a more personal freedom. Instead of isolating themselves, each character faced their concerns and learned to live freely amongst both those around them and their own psychologies.

But what does this all mean for those of us non-fictional characters? For one, traditional freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be. Freedom in the commonly thought of sense--escape from all restraints and roadblocks--isn't what we really want. Otherwise we would all become homeless alcoholics with no responsibilities, free to roam as we see please. Instead, what we are really after is the sort of freedom found in the end of Freedom: a freedom from our own self-deprecation and struggle after a freedom that doesn't exist. We need to stop thinking we can be free if we resist the pressure from our jobs, our families, and our morals. Instead, we need to look inside, become comfortable with ourselves, and find the freedom that comes from living up to no one's expectations but our own.

A Young Woman and the Sea

The first time I tried to read The Old Man and the Sea I was only about 10 and never made it through to the end. Even though I  certainly had my own fish to battle, I still wasn't mature enough to fully appreciate the struggle the Old Man went through to catch the marlin. I finally picked it up again last week and from my new 26 year-old perspective it deeply resonated with me. I found the Old Man's determination to not let the disadvantages of his age and limited means keep him from his goal both inspiring and defeating. As someone who has always been in a battle against my health, with the ways of the ocean seeming insurmountable, reading about another man's success, albeit fictitious, made me feel all the less successful in my own struggle. After all, if Santiago could catch his fish, why couldn't I?

It was upon pondering this that I became aware of the key element to Santiago's success. It wasn't just his sheer determination and will that allowed him to catch the marlin; it was his ability to know his own strengths and weaknesses and work within those natural boundaries. Instead of trying to pretend that he was younger and stronger than he really was, Santiago found ways to hold on to the marlin without needing the fitness age had taken from him. The most poignant example of this comes from Santiago's approach to the struggle with the marlin. Instead of forcing the catch by tugging at the line, Santiago works with the situation at hand and bides his time, knowing that in due course, the fish will come to him. Instead of struggling with what cannot be changed, he works within his means to accomplish his goal.

The fact that he ultimately loses the fish is, in this limited sense, irrelevant. The hollowed-out carcass may not be able to provide him with food or money  but it rests there, tied up to the small boat, as a token of his success. And what is that success? On the surface it is catching the biggest fish the community has seen; deep down it is knowing that he still has the wits to catch the biggest fish in the sea.

It happened one Nuit Blanche

Another year and another Nuit Blanche has come and gone. Each year it seems the event gets bigger, and thus my disappointment about not being able to see everything increases. Despite that, the event is always one of my favorite nights each year as a result of the unique opportunity to experience so many different and unique forms of art that inspire, intrigue, overwhelm, and make me go "what the....". Although a lot of debate surrounds the "pureness" of the art, one thing that can be surely agreed upon is that it is great way to bring art to the masses, whether we get the meaning behind it or not. Unfortunately my night this year was severely hampered by a completely ineffective TTC, to the point that I spent more time walking than viewing. That being said, I'm still glad I went out, I still saw a bunch of cool stuff, and I think that more than ever it is important for us as a city to embrace these events that bring everyone together and show the Rob Ford's of the world that closing streets and enjoying art is a meaningful and worthwhile activity.

 And now, my photo-diary of the night! Unfortunately the first two exhibits we saw either didn't allow photographs, or were not conducive to iPhone camera technology. But they were probably among my favorite from the evening. The first involved lying in a church pew (which served as your "coffin") and listening to people talk to you over your grave (complete with video on the ceiling). The second was a performance piece by a guy with a phantom limb that involved water, lights, music, and film. After that we saw a cool sound installation. A track was playing speech that kept coming out of different speakers, all of which was on the topic of listening. The organ was playing music that also changed speakers, for an overall interesting auditory experience.

 The next set of pictures are from the Gladstone, which we finally got to after walking all the way down Dufferin from Bloor. There were numerous small exhibits here, each offering something a little bit different. I really wanted to push this coat hanger mass around, since it reminded me of a tumbleweed, but I figured the artist wouldn't appreciate it too much. That and I don't think it would have fit through the door frame.

 This exhibit allowed participants to create roses out of clay and add them to the collection. There were already a sizable amount by the time we go there around 2am. I'm curious to see how big it got by dawn.

 In a room that offered a drawing of what the view would have looked like during the heyday of the British Empire in the Toronto region, one participant added his own form of art.

 Because nothing excites me more than things made out of food!This......sculpture?....is made out of milk, believe it or not!

These two pictures are of a screen that had a permanent foreground, but a varied background. On top of that, audience members could go behind the screen and poke their heads through to become part of the exhibit, as Chris did below. And since we were all the way over at the Gladstone, no line-ups!

 A room filled with crazy black balloons. This was almost like a spiderweb, but black, and well, without any spiders.

 I don't even know what this was, but this picture is from a section of a wall piece that looked cool in person, and managed to photograph pretty well too.

 Like the rubik's cube art that is on display in the Distillery District, this image was better seen through the screen of a digital camera. This was part of an exhibit at the Gardiner museum that was supposed to deal with our future society. However, I felt that the various elements there did not really connect with that message, and was mostly disappointed.

 By now it was around 3:30am so most of the crowds were gone, but Bloor street was still closed, and even regular traffic information screens were serving as canvases for the evening.

Lastly, a giant projection onto the face of Holt Renfrew. I don't know where the got the pictures from--it would have been really cool if they were from people at other Nuit Blanch exhibits--but all those smiles were a nice way to end the evening.

UTP Makes the Scene

On September 16th about 60 people gathered at Yorkville library to hear University of Toronto Press author Stuart Henderson talk about the subject of his upcoming book Making the Scene: Yorkville and Hip Toronto in the Sixties. The talk was the first installment in the six part History Matters Series hosted by the Toronto Public Library and organized by Lisa Rumiel of McMaster University.  The goal of the series is to provide a forum for exchange between active Toronto historians and the broader Toronto community. Henderson’s reading certainly accomplished that goal! With attendance outstripping the Library’s predictions, late-comers gladly stood for the hour to listen to Henderson’s vivid tale of sex, drugs, and rock’n'roll in 60s Yorkville.

Henderson weaved the audience through a broad analysis of the composition of Yorkville in the 60s and what the community meant for those who lived and played in the Village. Starting with the European coffee houses, he demonstrated the remarkable transformation the Village took as over time it became the adopted stomping ground for musicians, rebelling teenagers, partiers, and finally, biker gangs. And of course no discussion of 60s Yorkville is complete without mention of the efforts of the establishment to destroy what was deemed a bad part of town that ruined good-hearted youth.

After enlightening everyone in attendance, the floor was opened up for questions, but this quickly evolved into a forum for reminiscing about life in the Village’s heyday. One lady described her 60s self in such vivid detail that a gentleman from the back loudly cried out “I remember you!” University of Toronto Press is very pleased to see such a positive reception for one of our authors, whose book will certainly prove even more thrilling than the brief introduction he presented last Thursday.

American iGods

It has now been a few weeks since I finished American Gods but I still can't help thinking back to how perfect my timing was. I was right in the heart of the book, around the part where Wednesday and Shadow were getting into fighting the tech gods, when the iPhone 4 came out. To top it all off, by pure coincidence I ended up at the Eaton Centre that day and got to witness the insane line that had formed for the Apple store. As I stood there I contemplated whether there was another example I could think of that so perfectly demonstrated our addiction to, and worship of, technological gadgets. I came up with nothing.

As a disclosure, I am a huge fan of Apple products. I have a MacBook, an iPhone, and an old iPod. If I had the money, I would have an iPad by now too. So if you were hoping this entry would be a rant against Apple, you will be sorely disappointed. I also don't completely hate technology (one would hope the fact that I am writing a blog would illustrate that very fact). Technology has brought numerous advances to society. Where I personally draw the line is where technology so dictates our life that it becomes an end instead of a means.

Thinking about this brings me back to something I read several years ago (and thus have forgotten both the source and context) and have kept in the back of my mind to this day. The gist was that in the past, people used to shop to live. One would only go to a store because a basic necessity, such as food or essential clothing, were required. Now, at least in North America, we live to shop. Unfortunately, I myself have fallen into the consumerism-as-pastime trap. But ever since I read that brief, but ultimately accurate, description, I have become more conscious of how frivolous-shopping dictates 21st century western life.

So when I saw the line-up outside Apple that fateful Friday (if only it was a Wednesday....apparently coincidence isn't perfect) my mind immediately went to how our relationship with technology has flipped. Just like shopping, we have stopped using technology to live and instead now live for technology. Instead of seeing an iPhone as a convenient device to making talking to people, texting, listening to music, and getting directions easier, it has become something people centre their lives around. Everyone in that line had taken time out of their life just to line up. Almost akin to the die-hard religious devotees who line-up to pay to touch the reliquary of a saint, these people were lining up to give a corporation their money in exchange for a piece of technology that would, like its theological predecessor, provide no meaningful internal comfort.

By the time I finished American Gods I knew that the new-found worship of technology was not sole aspect of the novel. But for me it was the most paramount point I took from Gamen's work. It shall now join the numerous life-lessons that I have extracted from the written word, and hopefully my life will be all the more fulfilling for it. For if there is one thing I am sure of, it is that technology will only continue to exponentially seep into our lives, and thus the more wisdom we can accumulate to keep our priorities aligned, the better.

The Problem of Why

Guest Blog by Chris Habib

When it comes to life in general, there are many questions we ask ourselves.  In journalism, they ask: Who, What, When, Why, How.  Lets take a brief moment to see if we can answer these as they pertain to our lives.  The Who is a little bit tricky.  At the ripe old age of 25, I can safely say I know a large part of who I am.  I play many formal roles (such as husband and doctor) and I play informal roles (that guy who cracks jokes).  The What is a little less tricky.  I am human and everything that entails biologically, physiologically, and psychologically.  The When is seemingly the easiest question to answer, using science we can answer in many ways.  A quick Google search reveals the age of the universe to be 13.75 billion years, within a margin of error.  Skipping ahead to the How, that’s a story that my parents can probably describe in better detail than I can.  Those 4 questions seem to be fairly well understood.  The Why is the real problem.

As far as I can tell, there is no real answer to the reason for my (or your, or our) existence.  If we only look at final destinations, we all end up in the same place: dead.  From this perspective, it doesn’t matter if you lived a great life, or a terrible one.  It’s all the same in the end.  Then there is the wise old saying to enjoy the process and the experience of life, not just the end product.  Well, this makes sense insomuch as we make the best with what we have, rather than spending our years on this planet brooding until our inevitable expiration date.  It’s a realistic solution to a seemingly unsolvable problem.  But it’s only a coping mechanism, not an answer.  The real only realm that seems to provide an answer is religion.  In other words, you exist because you must live by the golden rule, be judged, earn a pleasant afterlife, worship God, etc.  They all say it with a different flavour, but the overarching message is always the same: you are insignificant, unworthy, probably immoral, and your only hope lies in the next life.  I find this answer completely unsatisfying because there is no valid evidence to back it up.  No one knows what happens after we die.  I don’t know what happens, and neither do you – despite what you may tell yourself or what you believe.  I’d rather have a truthful answer than a made-up one.  I just can’t seem to find one.

Fiction's Final Frontier?

I am a bit of an anomaly in that I love books and I love video games.  So when I read a few months ago that Random House was working in conjunction with Stardock to create a video game, it felt like two of my favorite worlds were colliding. I knew that houses had been publishing books based on video games--hello! War Craft--but the idea of turning the relationship around is completely new. Already, Random House has created a video game division to work with their authors and various gaming companies. I instantly thought that this would be my dream job. Make the games historical and set in another country, and basically all of my passions would be residing under one umbrella. 

After thinking more about this new publishing venture, I began to think about the difference a good plot and character background can make to a game. When I play RPGs, I admittedly get complete sucked into the storyline (just ask my husband, or for that matter, my cats). In fact, it is because of this very fact that I haven't written a blog post in a while--I was kidnapped by Mass Effect 2 for two weeks. I started to realize that I get sucked into the world of the game the same way that I get sucked into great books. I keep going on missions the same way that I can't stop flipping the pages of Harry Potter. The lines between the game and real life start to blur until you are Commander Shepard, or whatever other character you are playing. In essence, an RPG is a choose-your-own-adventure-and-character-profile book that unfolds through a gaming consul instead of on paper.

So what does this mean for books? Well, obviously not everyone plays video games and there are millions of people in the world who prefer getting their fictional stories in print. While there are numerous parallels between RPGs or story-based video games and novels, they are by no means equal. Each brings its own unique traits to the table. For one, it is easier to see the science fiction and fantasy genres adapted to games that it is to see with romance novels.  But the growing video game market, and the fact that it competes with books as another seller of leisure-time material, means that it can't be completely ignored. The question then is whether the two entities will continue in isolation or if other companies will follow the lead of Random House and Stardock and collaborate.

Collaboration can seemingly bring benefit to both sides. Publishing houses can tap into a new revenue stream with a different financial model, something which they desperately need. Acting as a consultant provides them the opportunity to negotiate payment upfront which would help cash flow and would provide them with a source of revenue separate from the constraints of booksellers. Game developers gain access to a bank of proven writers and the expertise of publishing houses in editing and molding content. This would allow them to meet the increasingly high standards of the gaming community for realistic and enticing plot, dialogue, and character development.

However good this arrangement looks on paper, the true test will be when Stardock's game is released in the fall. Only the future will tell if there is a role for authors and publishers in the video game universe and if fiction has found a new frontier.

To Kobo or Not to Kobo?

First off, I'll admit that I wasn't really aware of eReaders before I started taking publishing courses in May. I had some rough idea that eBook readers were gaining popularity, but that was about the full extent of my knowledge. In the past three months since then I have been inundated with information about not just the Kobo but the whole eBook movement. My classmates and I have received a wide range of opinions about the future of eBooks and the various readers currently on the market. Given that no one in my class seemed really pro-eBooks, and that our instructors seemed to be on the fence, and that Amazon was still slashing prices of the Kindle to gain market share, it seemed that eBooks had not yet reached their zenith.

And then today marching down my Twitter feed was a Wall Street Journal article about Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos' claim that Amazon's eBook sales outpaced hardcovers. Now the article was quick to state that Amazon never released hard numbers; only the relationship between e- and paper-book sales were given. Even if the numbers released (or really, not released) turn out to be off, it is getting increasingly harder to ignore the presence of eBooks. Bezos may be wrong in stating that eBooks have reached their tipping point, but they do seem to have established themselves as a strong player in the book market.

Anecdotally, I have seen more and more people using them on the subway. With the iPad and iBookstore the formatting options have been greatly expanded, as well as the number of consumers with eBook capable devices. But this concise summary in itself exposes the major dilemma facing any consumers considering investing in an eBook reader: which one? Although any purchase involves a certain amount of comparison, the problem with eBook readers is how proprietary they are. Put simple, a Kindle is designed to only read eBooks purchased from Amazon, and Amazon eBooks are only meant to be read on a Kindle. While there is talk of removing these restrictions, who knows if and when that will happen and exactly what form the changes will take. So then the consumer doesn't just have to choose between the merits of the individual reader, but also decide which store to purchase all eBooks from in the foreseeable future.

Personally this is probably the biggest reason why I wouldn't even consider an eBook reader now. The market is still in flux, and until there is some semblance of consistency, I don't feel like locking myself into a technology that might be obsolete in a year (just think of all those suckers who bought HD-DVD players just before Blu-ray won out).

The other thing holding me back is that eBook readers are still a work in progress. One teacher wisely said "an eBook is not a book." This might sound simple, but it is something that is very important to keep in mind. Reading a paper book is a certain type of experience, and reading from an electronic device of any kind is not, and never will be, the same. That isn't to say it is either better or worse, it is just to say that it is different. And right now the market is trying to determine what the best form of this "different" experience is, be it the text-only e-ink Kindle, or the interactive graphics-enabled iPad, or something new that isn't even in development yet. Until these problems are solved, no clear standard will be established, and the full potential of eBooks can't be realized as each company focuses all their time and money on simply one-upping their competitor.

But there are two things I am sure of: eBooks have taken a foothold in the book market and once their potential is realized, they will be a viable and beneficial option for consumers. What that potential ends up being, is still anyone's game. But if this video is any indication, the future is friendly.

How not to take the train...

For those of us with limited means, but an insatiable travel hunger, nothing is more effective than the quintessential European backpack tour. You buy a sturdy backpack, purchase an expensive plane ticket, scour the internet for the cheapest hostel that isn't bug-infested, stock up on memory cards, and hope for the best. The only missing element is how to get from city A to city B without blowing your budget or wasting your time abroad staring at wind-farm fields.

Although Europe has a plethora of cheap airfare options, as I discovered a couple of years ago this really only helps if you are going to and from somewhere these carriers fly. Since Ryan Air and the like missed the collapse of the Iron Curtain, anything east of Italy might as well be on Mars. (Interestingly enough, RailEurope suffers from a similar memory lapse.) Which means if you are, say, trying to get from Istanbul to Budapest, your options for cheap and practical travel are scant.

Enter the train. Everyone seems to have this glamorous impression of European train travel: delicious food, alcoholic beverages, convenience, and speed. While this is certainly the case along the popular, high-speed lines (especially when traveling in first class), just like everything else in the world, not all trains are created equally. I had traveled by rail in Western Europe before, and had already seen the disparity between various trains. While they might run on time in Italy, but they aren't plush. I realized that Eastern European trains were apt to be even more rustic, but I was still unprepared for the journey I had in store.

First off, even on the nicest train, the trek from Istanbul to Budapest is not ideal. It might have been wonderful in the days of the Orient Express, but the journey now is nothing like its 20th century counterpart. Potential passengers are required to either change trains in Sofia or Bucharest, and since the schedules from the various countries are not as well integrated as in the west, you need an advanced degree in patience and train-ology to figure out the timing. The most amazing resource I came across (and the only reason that this trip was even possible) was the website The Man in Seat 61. With his help, I had figured out that we would overnight from Istanbul to Sofia, spend the day in Sofia, and then overnight to Budapest. It would take a long time, but at least we would get to see some of Bulgaria on the way.

And then everything went wrong. Problem number one was that we were traveling across borders that are actually real (unlike within EU countries). This meant a nice wake-up call around 2am to get off the train at the edge of Turkey, get a stamp on our passports saying we were leaving, and then shuffle back to our compartment. Once we crossed over into Bulgaria, we were woken up again, questioned, and stamped by Bulgarian border police (but at least we didn't have to get out of bed). After that the haggard nature of the train became increasingly apparent as the wheels screeched against the rails every slight turn. As the morning arose, I was glad for leg one to be over, and to enjoy the day exploring a city so far into the former Eastern Bloc.

Now, since Eastern European trains have not caught up to the 21st century, you can't book tickets online, but only at the station you intend to travel from. This meant that while I had worked the schedules out in advance, we still needed to line-up to secure our couchette for the second leg. And here came unpleasant surprise number two: there is no overnight train to Budapest (I'm looking at you EuroRail schedule). We basically needed to get back on a train an hour after we had just gotten off, and were going to arrive in Budapest at the lovely hour of 3am. Having not had any breakfast yet, we scoured the station for food, but only managed to discover McDonald's muffins and cold hotdogs. But, since hungry beggars can't be choosers, we ate up, and bought extra supplies for lunch and dinner since our train to Budapest was sans a food compartment.

There is nothing like being stuck in a small train compartment after eating food that disagrees with your digestive system (I knew hotdogs were hot for a reason!), especially when the door is broken and can't be kept open. Not to mention the lack of toilet paper in the washroom (yes, they mean it when they tell you to bring your own). What else could go wrong you might ask? Running low on water, being surprised by certain unexpected womanly functions, and getting struck with an acute case of homesickness. The third was probably a result of all the previous hiccups, but that didn't make it less onerous.

Sadly, we were still not out of the rapids. Instead of getting us to Budapest at 3am, our train decide to stop in Belgrade for nine hours in the middle of the night. Not only did this delay our arrival, and consequent freedom, but it meant that we got to endure the thrill of being yelled at by sketchy Serbians wanting us to let them on the train, and experience first hand how to ration out scant food, water, and hygiene supplies. After traveling slower than a TTC streetcar in rush hour, we finally arrived in Budapest at 3pm. A mere 12 hours--stuck in a cramped, stinky compartment--later than anticipated.

The moral of the story: don't do it. Both Istanbul and Budapest are fabulous cities, and you should definitely visit them. But don't travel between them by rail. Don't take the train in Eastern Europe unless the trip is shorter than the time you normally spend between meals. Fly. If you can't fly, then drive. If you can't drive, then by all means, visit some other cities. Europe has lots of them. It might seem exciting while you're planning everything, and make for a good story after, but so does skinny dipping in the Amazon River. Sometimes, the means are so unpleasant that no end could justify them.

Livin' La Vida Barcelona

Who wouldn't want to go to Barcelona? What other city has the prefect combination of great food, refreshing drinks, art, architecture, beaches, and history? More than any other European city I have visited, Barcelona offers its visitors a little bit of everything, and is sure to please even the most reluctant traveler. Lovers of art and architecture can visit the unfinished Sagra Familia or the Picasso Art Museum, or take a stroll in Guell Park. Those who are more interested in the convivial lifestyle can flock to the beautiful beaches close to the heart of the city, or partake in Barcelona's exciting night life. Food aficionados have no shortage of restaurants serving tapas, paella, and of course, sangria. The only quintessential element of Spanish culture missing is the running of the bulls.

Despite its abundance of Spanish cultural icons, Barcelona is decidedly un-Spanish. Once the capital of the Kingdom of Catalonia (historically one of four kingdom's that comprised the country we now call Spain), Barcelona has fought hard to preserve its unique cultural and independent rights. If you follow the news closely enough, it seems that there is always a protest occurring to legally keep modern Catalonia from losing its special status. Currently, Catalonia is considered a historical nationality with a right to autonomy. The most obvious manifestation of this? The official language (and the one spoken by locals) in Barcelona is not Spanish--its Catalan. Although there are numerous similarities, Catalan is still distinct from Spanish, much as Barcelona is still culturally distinct from Spain.

This very balance has arguably made Barcelona the great city that it is today. In an effort to preserve its unique culture and defend against an influx of Spanish customs, Barcelona has a plethora of well-maintained historical districts, ranging from the Middle Ages to the time of Franco. In an effort to promote culture, it has some of the most intriguing buildings, such as the Sagrada Familia by Gaudi. But the best element of Barcelona is its unique elan. Unlike stuffy Paris, Barcelona is a city that knows how to let go, and is comfortable in its own skin. It has the confidence of a world class city, but the love for and expression of life that comes from not stressing about keeping up a facade of superiority. After all, Barcelona knows that it has it all, and isn't trying to be anything other than what it is: a sparkling Catalan jewel in a Spanish crown.

The Fabrication of Public Image

It took two years but I finally got around to reading The Fabrication of Louis XIV by Peter Burke over the past week. My only regret is that I hadn't read it sooner. Like before I wrote my thesis sooner. Burke's monograph is a wonderfully written, engaging, and informative account of the fabricated publicity of Louis XIV. To a large extent, it covers similar themes as my thesis, but with a focus on Louis' French court as opposed to the Spanish court of Philip IV. The final chapter even contains a section that specifically mentions the influence Philip's court had its French counterpart.

Aside from justifying some of the claims in my thesis, it also provides new insight into those areas space restrictions prevented me from exploring in depth. The most memorable of which was something which even Burke only discussed briefly, but eloquently penned: "One might therefore speak of a 'war of images,' or of art as the continuation of war by other means." Spoken in reference to the artistic arms race that occurred throughout Renaissance and Early Modern Europe, this one sentence concisely sums up one of the principle reasons behind each monarch's continual effort to out-shine each other. Although Burke only briefly discusses it, this concept is still at play in the publicity and propaganda campaigns of modern, democratic leaders.

A few months ago I watched a great documentary series on CBC called Love, Hate and Propaganda. Through six installments, it analyzed the various forms of propaganda employed by both the Allies and the Axis, as well as the various groups each side targeted. Aside from motivating their own troops and vilifying the enemy, both sides also utilized propaganda in an effort to intimidate their opponent. More recently, we have seen footage of ICBM tests performed by North Korea, and videos of Osama bin Laden denouncing the West and proclaiming the impending dominance of Islam and Al-Queda. Nothing could better exemplify a modern interpretation of Burke's quotation.

On the other side of the coin, the world is rife with modern examples of the more positive publicity Louis XIV fabricated. Anyone who has ever followed a political campaign has seen examples of crafted press ranging from George Bush's "Mission Accomplished" fabrication, Steven Harper's sweater ads, or the more recent G20 photo-op bonanza. All of these echo artistic campaigns launched by Louis and his ministers: the exaggeration of military successes in the war of War of the Spanish Succession, the donning of symbolic regalia in state portraits to emphasize dynasty and legitimacy, and the various media that demonstrate Louis visits to the Academies and Gobelins factory. Although there is insufficient evidence to precisely determine the ultimate reception of Louis' message, any current campaign or PR manager for a politician is unlikely to question the importance of modern propaganda.

In the end, in my opinion, it doesn't really matter whether or not Louis XIV's artistic endeavors influenced contemporary Europeans. What matters is that its usefulness was so highly regarded that every major leader undertook similar artistic programs, and that art as propaganda is a practice deemed so politically integral that it has continued down to this day. For even though the specific form has changed, the same principles and methods are, if anything, more prevalent today than in Louis' time. What does this ultimately boil down to? Another example of the importance of historical study. While knowing the origins of modern publicity might not save lives, it can certainly help us to understand the intricacies of modern political imagery. Perhaps this understanding will help us to delve beyond the headlines and see past the picture of the handshake. Perhaps we might even begin to question why our leaders deem it so necessary to live behind a cloak of deception.

A Canadian in Flanders

Ever since taking history in high school, I have always been interested in touring the WWI trenches that serpentine through Europe's lowlands.  On my most recent trip--third time's a charm!--the scheduling finally worked out to fit in a 3 day jaunt to Flanders. Although there are numerous historic towns and battle sites to visit, I ultimately decided on Ypres and a tour of the city's north salient with Flanders Battlefield Tours.

After swapping trains in the picturesque Lille, we arrived in Ypres to an overcast sky and a light drizzle. As much as I hate the rain, it was very fitting for the day ahead. Our first stop was the In Flanders Fields Museum, located in the restored Ypres Cloth Hall. As an experienced European museum goer, I don't lightly say that this is the best one I have seen. It had appropriate information, excellent artifacts, great interactive features, and most importantly, you got a true sense of what life in the war was like. By the end of it I was moved. Despite the horrors presented, the most memorable and chilling part of the exhibit was the concluding room: writing on the wall which listed the number of conflicts that have occurred since "the war to end all wars." Nothing puts WWI into the greater perspective more than the realization that similar atrocities are being committed around the world on a daily basis.

Our guided tour certainly maintained the somber pace of the day. Our first stop was Essex farm, most famously remembered as the site where John McCrae wrote "In Flanders' Fields." Other notable features include triage bunkers, and a Commonwealth cemetery. Next we went to see Langemark, one of the few remaining German cemeteries on Belgian soil. Distinct from its Ally counterparts, Langemark does not attempt to glorify the deeds of its inhabitants. The most shocking aspect is the mass grave in the centre, which contains all the unknown soldiers, buried on top of one another due to space limitations. The last cemetery we visited was the biggest in the region: Tyne Cot. Unlike the first two burial grounds, Tyne Cot is astonishingly large, stretching so far that the tombstones along the boundaries look like mere pebbles in the field. It was impossible to walk away from here without some sense of dread, and yet, those interred here represented only a fraction of the total casualties in the war.

Before the end of our tour, we quickly visited the Canadian Memorial at Vancouver Corner, and a small museum put together by historically inclined farm owners on the site of Hill 62. Part of the Hill 62 museum is the trenches that wind along the top of the hill. The whole area reeks of misery; stacks of shell casing, bomb blast craters, and flooded, narrow trenches are present at every turn. Yet despite the physical trauma that this land underwent, the forests have regrown around the scars, and ecological life has continued almost as if those four years never happened.

The same feeling lingers in all of the sites we visited--the trees have returned, the grass had resprouted, and in short, life goes on. This natural pattern echoes the rebuilding of the town of Ypres. After being completely destroyed in the war, the entire town was rebuilt according to the plans that were safely hidden throughout the conflict. To this day, the buildings look as if straight out of medieval Belgium, but in fact, they too have been reconstructed out of the ashes of war. I was left with a sense of appreciation for both humanity's and nature's inherent drive to life.

By the time we were finished, and thus ready to re-enter the town of Ypres and 21st century life, the rain had symbolically stopped. We were able to escape to modern conveniences and sanitation, and to a life without the threat of bombs and bayonets. And for this luxury, I give my thanks to the men (and women) who risked, and continue to risk, their lives on my behalf. I certainly wish there were less wars in this world, and don't always agree with Canada's involvement in other people's conflicts, but what I do know is that regardless of whether the cause is worthy or not, I am truly grateful that I am not the one looking down the enemy's barrel. If nothing else, I left Flanders with a profound sense of Canadian pride, a stronger desire for peace, and a belief in our ability to rise from the ashes of our own mistakes.

Slow Death by Big Business

In Slow Death by Rubber Duck the authors test changes in chemical levels in their blood as a result of using certain toxic items. The outcome was frightening: both authors saw two- to seven-fold increases due to using everyday household products in high concentration. What is equally frightening is how hard it has been, and continues to be, to get these products banned from use. With each chemical, a common pattern emerges: numerous studies and real-world cases come out that illustrate the toxicity of the chemical, only for the various lobbyists representing the chemical and manufactoring companies to fight back and maintain the status quo. Even if a chemical does manage to get banned, the companies simply tweak the formula, and replace it with a very similar compound with equally adverse effects, causing the whole cycle to run again.

As horrible as it is to see these chemicals stay in the products that we use everyday and toxify our bodies, unfortunately this is only one symptom of a bigger problem. We have let the government become dominated by Big Business to the point that individual citizens no longer have the control to remove substances that pollute us and negatively impact our health. What's more, the onus is on scientists to prove that a substances causes serious harm beyond any doubt before a chemical is banned. There is no responsibility on the part of the companies that use and manufacture these chemicals to prove that they are safe before they enter the marketplace and pollute our lives.

Unfortunately for the people of the world, this is only one example of how the demands of Big Business control our legislative process. For all the flack they take, even Big Pharma isn't this bad: at least they have to run tests (however flawed) to prove that their new drugs work and meet certain safety thresholds before they are approved by the government. This problem is not limited to toxic chemicals, environmental issues, or even prescription drugs. It is lurking behind every backroom deal between the government of some country and a large multinational corporation. It has reached a point where the rights of companies are greater than the rights of individuals, and the penalties when companies are rarely held accountable for their misdeeds are laughable in comparison to the penalties faced for civilian offenders. What has to happen before we wake up and demand change? Is it even possible to effect change when faced by the Goliath of Big Business lobbyists and their infinite bank accounts?

To bring this piece back to the topic in Slow Death, the second-last chapter demonstrates that perhaps the tide is turning. The chapter outlines the process that ultimately led to the banning of bisphenol A (BPA) in baby bottles in Ontario, and eventually Canada. What makes this example truly promising is that unlike so many toxic chemicals of the past, BPA was banned before there was an outbreak of dying or severely ill people that could definitively be traced back to the chemical in question. Finally the government had decided that it was "better to be safe than sorry."* Although this only banned BPA from baby bottles, the ensuing press frenzy resulted in certain retailers, such as Mountain Equipment Coop, to preemptively remove all products containing BPA from their shelves. As of today, consumer demand drives companies to produce BPA-free products.

While it is unfortunate that BPA has lasted in the marketplace (and thus the environment) as long as it has, at least it is slowly being weeded out without having to first witness an episode like Minamata. Hopefully, this will symbolize a movement towards a more balanced relationship between the rights of people and the rights of corporations in today's democratic governments. The result will be a political environment conducive to banning the use of toxic chemicals, to forcing companies to prove the safety of new products before they are put into our environment, and to putting the needs and health of people above the profit of corporations. Only once this paradigm shift occurs will we truly be able to break the cycle and eliminate the life-threatening problems so succinctly demonstrated in Slow Death. At the very least, if the toxic side-effects of these products are allowed to run their course, companies will have no one left to sell their products to.

*Excerpt from Health Minister Tony Clement's press conference announcing the ban of BPA in baby bottles.

The Tao within You

Having recently read The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff, I have found myself seeing the world around me through a new lens. As someone who is still searching for principles to guide herself through the world, and someone with a love of all things Winnie-the-Pooh, my expectations of the book were high. I was not disappointed--the philosophy of the book resonated with me so much that the more I read, the more I realized I had already been traveling down the Taoist path without even knowing it. That being said, the book still enlightened me by succinctly explaining some of the key principles in a relatable manner through everyone's favorite Bear. With that in mind, I would like to share some of these tenets, and demonstrate how they have already permeated our day-to-day lives.

The principle of the Uncarved Block is the first, and simplest: things in their original simplicity contain their own natural power, which is easily spoiled and lost when that simplicity is changed. When a person is in the state of the Uncarved Block, they can enjoy the simple and the quiet, the natural and the plain. Although the style of our modern lives has us complicating things and constantly changing to keep pace with newer, more complex technology, the Uncarved Block still shines through. We experience it when we read a book; when we turn the TV off; when we just sit at the beach, enjoying the sun, listen to the waves, and do nothing. We don't give ourselves enough time to be in the state of the Uncarved Block anymore, but the fact remains that we enjoy those moments for the relaxation and peace they bring us.

The concept of Inner Nature is broken up into Things As They Are and What's There. Things As They Are dictates that everything has its own place and function, and What's There states that you need to identify and work within your limitations. Combined these two concepts form your Inner Nature, which is the guiding principle we all should use to help us meander down the path of life. Simple as this sounds, too many times people try to defy the laws of nature and use things where they don't belong, and can't work. Society tells us that if we keep pushing, anything is possible. But anything is not possible. Everyone has come up against a wall in their life that cannot be broken or by-passed. The secret of the people who have succeeded despite that wall is that they have learned to stop fighting it and use it in it's proper place to their own advantage.

In opposition to these two ideas is the Bisy Backson. The Bisy Backson is that person who is always so busy rushing and hurrying to meet a goal, that he is unable to appreciate anything in life. He is the man who is so busy working to make a lot of money, but has no time to enjoy anything that his money buys because he is so busy working. The idea isn't to get rid of goals, but instead to focus not just on the end result, but the process along the way because it is the process that makes us happy and wise. When we focus on the process, we can not only eliminate goals that provide no benefit, but also goals that are misaligned with what we really want. Everyone has started a process, only to figure out half-way through that they no longer want what they were originally aiming for. At that point, we base our decision on the process: if the process is still enjoyable, we will continue, but if not, we will give up and focus our energy on something more fruitful. In doing so we are rejecting the Bisy Backson, and instead Enjoying the Process.

Lastly, the belief that Everyone is Special. Unlike modern society, which focuses on a few "special" elites (movie stars and the like), and influences us to think that unless we accomplish something great we are not good enough, Taoism teaches that Everyone is Special in one way or another. The trick is to begin by appreciating who you are and to work within your own strengths and weaknesses (wink, wink, Inner Nature). Who hasn't embarked upon an endeavor in life (be it a job, a vacation, or a relationship) only to discover that it runs counter to our own nature? Although it can be challenging to jump ship and move to a path, the reward is a sense of happiness in what we are doing. When we follow our Inner Nature, we can lead a more productive life, and discover what it is that makes us Special.

The trick when reading something like this is to not just shrug it off as an antiquated eastern philosophy that has no relevance in our modern western society. Instead, the purpose is to analyze the knowledge that is being presented, and adapt it to our current lives in order to better them. But first we need to be open and willing to accept that someone else might have gotten it right, and that we as a society might have gotten it wrong. With reference to The Tao of Pooh, we need to perceive that it is the presence of Taoist principles that helps to explain the innate appeal of a favorite literary character. In our own lives, we need to realize that the benefits of Taoism are already exemplified in our everyday experiences. We don't need to change who we are; we just need to find what is already there, and let it thrive.

A Wiki Wiki Future

The exponential increase in textbook costs for higher education students over the past decade has students, professors, publishers, and governments considering alternatives. One such alternative, Wikibooks, combines the open-source concept of Wikipedia with a more traditional textbook format. Although Wikibooks is yet to be adopted by the majority of professors, in an age of increasingly expensive textbooks, widespread Internet access with a plethora free information, and a more technologically savvy student population, it seems that the days of the paper textbook may be dwindling.

Although the free cost is perhaps the biggest selling point for students, this is not the only benefit Wikibooks can offer when compared to traditional textbooks. They are often easier to navigate, provide direct links to Wikipedia entries for further information, searchable, and can include other media such as videos and sound bytes that paper textbooks lack. Furthermore, in an age with increasing eco-awareness, Wikibooks are also a more environmentally friendly alternative since they require no paper, ink, shipping, storage, or stores to sell them in. 

Despite the numerous benefits, there are still drawbacks to Wikibooks that have contributed to the industry’s limited adoption. For example, many of the books available are only half or partially finished, which limits the number of courses that could adopt them as a primary text. While these challenges can be overcome with minor changes or further development, the biggest obstacle is the professors themselves. For one, their widespread aversion towards Wikipedia and wiki-style resources and adherence to the peer-reviewed gold standard is almost universal. Secondly, perhaps the biggest element that plagues the adoption of Wikibooks is that it does not provide professors with the ancillary tools that publishing companies provide for free when their textbook is selected.

Regardless of the stigma associated with Wikibooks there are several noteworthy adoptions that demonstrate the feasibility of this alternative. Three professors have effectively used Wikibooks as the principal text in education courses at the Old Dominion University and in business courses at the University of Denver. Another similar example is an introductory sociology textbook written by Ryan T Cragun of the University of Cincinnati. Wikibooks have also proven successful in niche markets that are too small for traditional textbooks to be a profitable enterprise for large publishing companies, such as a Hebrew textbook in information systems.  

Despite the merits of Wikibooks and the successful example of their adoption, they currently do not pose a big threat to higher education publishers due to the conservative attitudes of many professors, and their reliance on the ancillary materials provided by publishing companies. However, if Wikibooks were altered to be more acceptable to professors they could emerge as a viable alternative to traditional paper textbooks. In order to preempt this potential competition, current publishing houses should re-evaluate their products and production models to incorporate the advantages of Wikibooks while maintaining the standards that professors rely on.  

What is English?

Everyone who has struggled with the notion of "correctness" in spoken or written English knows that what is considered "right" is not well-defined. I myself have advised many ESL speakers of this fact in order to ease their fear of making a big grammar gaffe. In Toronto in particular, where 49% of the population is born outside of Canada, the most common ESL pitfalls almost go unnoticed. And now with the influx of internet terminology (and thus the creation of new words), and the relaxing of rules that limit terms to specific parts of speech (the "verbing" of nouns like "Google"), the English language is changing even faster than ever before. So where does this leave the rules that were so tediously drilled into our heads in English class? What is the English language, and who controls it?

I had always prided myself as someone well-informed of grammar, and styled myself as a bit of a grammar stickler when it came to certain mistakes. But as my life was increasingly invaded by technology, I found myself verbing nouns, and telling my friends to just "Google that." It seemed that as I drifted away from the formal education of my youth into the real world where all that matters is comprehension, my concern over the nuances of English grammar quickly faded. I learned to live with the reality of my surroundings: a population of people who either don't care if they incorrectly use "whom" or those who are trying to learn later on in life what is arguably the hardest language to grasp.

Just when I thought that I had reconciled my knowledge with the actuality of 21st century life, I took a course in copy editing. I was instantly flooded with a slew of archaic and tedious grammar rules, the complexity of Canadian English spelling, and the subjectivity of what it means to apply these rules to a manuscript. Learning the inane history of how "rules" like never ending a sentence with a preposition arose certainly did not help. And to top it all off, I was told that due to changes in usage, half the rules I was currently learning may be obsolete within the next 10 years.

The contention of these two spheres--grammar as it is taught and grammar as it is used--caused me to wonder who really determines what is "English." On the one hand, correct usage is largely determined by the printed word (this is what style and grammar guides tend to base any changes for new editions on), and the printed word is controlled by copy editors, who by the very nature of their profession tend to favour a more traditional approach to grammar. On the other hand, what is written in print is influenced by the way people talk, and informal publications such as blogs. So where does the balance lie? Do both sides have an equal, but checked say or does one have more clout than the other? And is the balance of power changing?

I certainly don't have an answer to that--that would require very serious research, and certainly a longer article than what I am currently writing. But one thing I do know is who is not in control: a regulatory language body such as France's l'Académie française. When I first heard that the French had a government-sponsored academic body to regulate language, I laughed at the absurdity of French bureaucracy. But now, having seen the problems that arise when no clear standard is present (I'm looking at you Canadian spelling), I can appreciate the benefits in having an authority to decide once and for all how to spell analyze (as opposed to analyse).

But, as much as an English Academy would certainly simplify all things grammar and spelling, in the end I think the drawbacks out way the advantages. One of the big differences between French and English is that unlike French, English arose as a language of the people. Although it is currently evolving at a faster pace than ever before, changes in usage are not a 21st century phenomenon, as anyone who has read Shakespeare can appreciate. And while this can make life challenging, and although it raises many questions, I believe it creates a much more dynamic and functional language. Even when all the rules are broken--and sometimes especially if they are--we are able to communicate and understand each other. And after all, isn't that the whole point of language anyway?

Hippocrates' Legacy Lost?

For a book titled Hippocrates' Shadow, I expected David Newman's work to be about the influence of Hippocrates on modern medicine. Instead I found just the opposite--HS is a scathing analysis of the multifaceted problems plaguing the current US health care system. Using a myriad of well-explained medical studies and personal anecdotes, Newman poignantly illustrates the key areas where the House of Medicine has drifted away from Hippocrates' ideals. Anyone who has ever spent time at a doctor's office or a hospital can personally attest to many of these issues. What makes Newman's telling so penetrating is that unlike personal experiences, the evidence he uses definitively proves how widespread and common these problems are.

While some of the issues discussed are familiar and easily identifiable (such as doctor's notoriously bad bedside manner), other are much harder to reconcile. Despite the clear evidence Newman gives about the futility of mammograms, in lieu of another screening technique, it is hard to completely abandon that ship. Regardless of how easily we accept each postulate he presents, the overall message conveyed is one that cannot be ignored: our health care system is broken and it is up to everyone (doctors and patients alike) to work together to bring about change.

Like many other Canadians, I could fill a book with my personal experiences with the problems Newman presents. However, unlike most who have faced these same roadblocks, I not only thought about real ways to fix the problems (no, throwing more money is never the right answer), I found out where these solutions were already being used. Despite what conservative medical doctors may like you to think, there is another group of health practitioners out there that still embody the ideals of the Hippocratic Oath, and who had already reconciled their practice with the problems Newman based his book around: naturopaths.

It only took one visit to a naturopath for me to see the impact their different approach makes. A standard first visit is one hour. I don't think I had ever seen a medical doctor for more than 10 minutes at a time. Already Newman's problem of not enough face time is solved. Naturopaths have two other core beliefs that separate their practice from MDs and demonstrate how a new perspective could breath new life into the House of Medicine: focus on prevention and treat the patient as a whole. While these ideal seem simple enough, as Newman's book demonstrates they are frequently neglected by the traditional medical establishment. While neither of these solutions will cost exorbitant amounts of money (unlike investing it in technology to make doctors more "effective"), they do have the potential to rectify the errors that have made our medical system so full of flaws.

In his conclusion, Newman speaks to the need to return to "Hipporates' belief in the bond, his respect for the mind/body, and his patient primacy." To reach this goal, Newman suggests that we look to history, and step back to a time when these three tenets still formed the core of medicine. However, the means he suggests are not required to reach these ends. What Newman fails to realize is that instead of looking to the past, we only needs to look right under our noses and follow the example of naturopathic medicine to heal the wounds currently crippling our public health system.

Wanted on the Voyage

As the title suggests, one of the themes that runs throughout Not Wanted on the Voyage is who was permitted to accompany Noah on the ark. Findley's portrayal of the Biblical fable highlights the absurdity of God's edict that arbitrarily specified who would be saved and who would not. One of the most emotional examples is Noah's attempt to burn Mottyl, the family cat, because God's two cats had already been selected. However, God permitted Noah to take several sheep on board. While the rules are specific in some areas, God also left loopholes, one of which allowed Lucifer to marry Noah's son and thus escape the flood with the family. Apart from the obvious holes this pokes in the belief in an all-powerful, all-knowing God (why didn't he just prevent Mottyl from boarding if the edict was so important?), it also leads one to ponder "what would I take on the ark?" What would I want, and not want, on the voyage?

Well, for starters, while I certainly feel that it was noble of Noah to attempt to preserve each animal species, modern science has taught us that multiple members of each species would be required in order to preserve genetic diversity. This makes it nearly impossible to save all of animal kind within the confines of one ark. Although I commend God for being concerned about animals for a change--as opposed to relishing in their sacrificial slaughter--I am also left wondering about the survival of our plants, minerals, and bacteria, not to mention the myriad of art and artifacts that represent our human history. In a magical world (like that of the Bible), I would turn the ark into a Marry Poppins-esque bag, and fit every plant, animal, mineral, single-celled organism, work of art and artifact that I could find. In reality, I would take a very thorough collection of photographs.

Now that our culture and the elements of our earth are accounted for (in one way or another), it is time to consider my personal affairs. Without question I would take my family, friends, pets, and anyone with a skill or ability that would make surviving an extended voyage less dreary. We've all seen the movies where some cataclysmic event is looming over earth and only a select number of people can be saved. Typically some bureaucrat chooses three types of people: those with money, those whose work is essential to human survival, and those with luck. If I was in charge, I would require everyone to audition and only select those who are creative and I could get along with--I have no desire to be trapped on an ark with an obnoxious know-it-all no matter how smart they are! As for bribes, what use would money be after the whole world is submerged under the waters of God's fury anyway?

Last but not least, my things. For better or worse, there are certain inanimate objects that I would have trouble parting with for the rest of my life, and that I would simply be bored to tears without. First, flood or no flood, I want a high speed internet connection. I don't care how the techies do it, but this is a must. I might no longer need to use the internet to communicate with others (since we are all in one ark), but lets face it, everyone has e-talked to someone in the same room at one point or another. Second, my comfort items--those things that due to sentimental value bring me joy, happiness, and peace. Third, entertainment: Xbox, boardgames, music, videos, you name it. I don't plan on watching the water for however long it takes God to get over his issues. But when the rains stop, and the sun comes out again, it will be time to sit on the deck in a comfy lounge chair and enjoy the final thing I want on my voyage--a really big stack of books.

An Atheist's Pilgrimage

Having grown up in a small, predominantly Catholic community, I was not exposed to any other creeds or religious beliefs early on in life. To this day I can still remember how shocked I was when I was first introduced to the Big Bang theory. Although I did not know it at the time, this moment put me on an ideological pilgrimage that over many years would help me define the governing principles of my adult life. I had at last been exposed to a sort of atheist Mecca--a place where logic and reason and critical thinking could reign supreme over the falsehood and lies that are religion.

As I grew up, and began to think more critically of the world around me, I slowly started to reject the preachings of the church. While it was at times difficult to give up the comfort that undoubtedly came from recognizing a higher power, I learned that ultimately truth is the greater reward. Just like the realization that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are not the ones bringing presents and chocolate, abandoning my belief in the stories of the Bible meant giving up a faith my parents had instilled in me since birth.

I liken my experience to that of Plato's Philosopher King who leaves the cave of ignorance and finally sees the light of truth. Although there was a certain comfort in the cave, and the journey to the surface was an ideological struggle, getting there has been well worth the effort. Not only have I been able to remove the veil of religious ignorance, but the process of self-enlightenment has also sharpened my analytical skills. Free from the ideological control of an overbearing religious dictatorship, my mind was both free to think for itself, and in possession of the tools to do so.

The world may never agree that religion is in essence an archaic mythology, that while purposeful in the past, has long overstayed its welcome. However, this bleak prospect should not discourage others from embarking on their own intellectual pilgrimage and coming to terms with the realities of the world they live in.