Book Report: We Can’t Go Home Again by Clarence E. Walker

Since I read a lot and nothing good seems to come of it, I’ve decided to do a bit of brief book reviewing for you, my five Internet readers. I shall incorporate some puppetry for the sixth person who cannot read but logs in for the soothing blue tones.

I have just completed We Can’t Go Home Again: An Argument about Afrocentrism by Clarence E. Walker, a professor at University of California at Davis. It’s a highly academic book, as the 31 pages (out of 164) are end notes, and it’s split into only two chapters: “If Everybody was King, Who Built the Pyramids: Afrocentrism and Black American History” (83 pages) and “‘All God’s Dangers Ain’t a White Man’ or ‘Not All Knowledge Is Power'” (50 pages). Personally, this limitation (only two chapters) rather makes it difficult to read, since the organization of the material in the macrochapters is not readily apparent (by the subdivision).

Instead, we have super-sized chapters ill-suited for consumption by a McDonald’s audience. The first chapter, “If Everybody was King, Who Built the Pyramids: Afrocentrism and Black American History”, is the pure science of the book. Walker examines certain tenets of Afrocentric thought, such as Egypt (Kemet) as the primary source for most intellectual thought in the ancient world (which the white men of Greece and Rome ripped off) and that Egypt was even a “black” culture. Instead, Walker identifies Afrocentrism as a therapeutic movement that bears little relationship to actual history. Walker also explores how black African-Americans (not redundant) in the United States diverged from Africans by the nature of their passage to this hemisphere and their bondage.

I didn’t trace the quotes nor research from his endnotes, so I cannot comment on the thoughts and arguments to which he is responding, but his historical points and interpretation make sense in themselves.

However, when we get to “‘All God’s Dangers Ain’t a White Man’ or ‘Not All Knowledge Is Power'”, Walker fails to signal for the left turn he makes. Just because Afrocentrism is wrong doesn’t mean that affirmative action should be eliminated, I think he means. He begins the second paragraph of the second chapter (page 85, remember):

A rightward drift in American politics is moving the country toward what I call “free market racism,” the state of American race relations during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, when the ideology of lassez-faire reigned supreme in the realm of economics and race on the national level.

There he lost me. Not in a violent explosion of disbelief, during which I fling the book against the wall and/or stomp on it (this wasn’t Stupid White Men, after all, and it is not a paperback). But by coining a term “free market racism,” Walker provides the good citizens of Oceania academia with a twist of logic.

Racism and affirmative action, the practice this book defends, represent a statist intrusion into thought and practice in one form or another. Free market, on the other hand, represents a rational system of commerce wherein the best value wins. In a free market of ideas, individual performance should prove a better value than racism or affirmative action. Hence, “free market racism” is a paradox, a contradiction, and a big fat hanging straw man that Walker cracks with a full swing.

I was greatly disappointed with the practical application of repudiating Afrocentrism. Quit following a foolish, bankrupt, therapeutic ideology and start supporting affirmative action. Well, the professor does teach at the University of California at Davis. What did I expect?

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J.K. Rowling Closes Gap to $1 Billion The Easy Way

Authoress J.K. Rowling, whose prowess with fascinating people with 11-year-old boys rivals Catholic seminaries, is closing in on becoming the first billionaire author and has discovered the fast track to wealth. It’s not the book royalties or the merchandising rights after all. It’s $100 million dollar litigation.

She’s suing a newspaper for leaking details about the latest Harry Potter novel for $100 million dollars. Give me a schnucking break.

Oh, and Scholastic’s gonna punish retailers who break the rules:

Retailers signed agreements not to put the book on sale early, with Scholastic threatening to punish violators by withholding timely shipments of future Potter books.

Pah! I always like Tab book club better. Neener neener neener.

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The Chicago Printers Row Book Fair, Reviewed

While in Chicago, Heather and I spent a morning at the Printers [sic, and the Chicago Tribune, sponsor of the event, should know better!] Row Book Fair on, well, Printers’ Row, in Chicago. You can find the Chicago Tribune’s review here if you hurry.

You want to hear my review? Here it is: What idiot would go used book shopping with 10,000 friends? (Please exclude current blogger and his esteemed spouse from your answer.) You cannot adequately peruse and handle interesting books while actively and purposefully jostling nearby extras, guarding the wallet, and annoying Howard Dean pamphleteers by telling them, “I will vote only for a candidate who frequently affirms he served in Viet Nam” (which works best if you can somehow pronounce it as two words).

However, when you’re in Chicago, do visit Printers’ Row on Dearborn. You will find a most exquisite shop of rare and fine editions. If you’re like me, you won’t afford them, but they’re nice to see. You’ll enjoy it much more if you think of it as a zoo instead of a book store.

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What Did She Mean, Anyway?

Good day. I notice a lot of traffic dropping by from IMAO, and I wanted to clarify what my esteemed spouse said in the comment to Frank J’s props for Michael Moore.

Hey, I say The Big One when it ran at the artsy Tivoli theatre here in St. Louis back in the 1990s. I liked it well enough. After all, corporate power abusers are the same fun targets for drive-by rantings as governmental ones, ainna? So when I spent my four bucks to join the Quality Paperback Club, I selected Stupid White Men. I knew the basic plot, so it’s not like I was getting something I wasn’t expecting.

It became a boon that I bought it in paperback. I could more vigorously “dialog with the text” without damaging the furniture or walls of my home. Highlighting? Marginalia? How about a schnucking drop-kick when Moore pillories the new attorney general for disposing of gun background checks as the law says he should–which Moore calls ILLEGAL! How about a backhand expulsion of the tome the eighty-second time Moore describes Bush as illegitimate? I forget at what point I spiked the book to the floor and stomped on it, but I made it all the way through.

I’d recommend the practice of paperbacks when reading books with which you disagree. It’s not always the case that you’ll feel such vitriol that you’ll need to physically abuse a book, but when lies, quarter-truths, and whatnot cover most of the material between the title page and the “About the Author” section, it’s best to be safe from gouging drywall, concussing cats, or hurting yourself.

Thank you, that is all.

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Ayn Rand Liked A Green Card…and Branden

Also in the Atlantic Monthly this month, but not online (go check), a cartoonist named Edward Sorel does a page and a half Little-Annie-Fanny rendition of Ayn Rand’s life. Great! She married Frank O’Connor, she bopped Nathaniel Branden, then she died.

Of course, this simple rendition doesn’t even have the depth and subtlety of Branden’s Judgment Day, for crying out loud. There’s something wrong with reducing a full and long life into nine panels. Oh, what the hell, let’s Fisk it:

  1. Panel 1, Russian emigre, changes name to Ayn Rand. Check.
  2. Panel 2, She marries Frank O’Connor for a green card? I’ve heard they were in love, but that’s a little complicated for one panel of a cartoon.
  3. Panel 3, The Fountainhead published and movie rights bought. That’s right, but what’s the idea jabbing at Jack Warner, head of the studio who bought the movie rights? Aren’t you slamming Ayn Rand here?
  4. Panel 4, Nathaniel and Barbara Branden wed. This accounts for 11% of Ayn Rand’s life and accomplishments? Wait a minute…here it comes….
  5. Panel 5, The Start of the Affair. Ayn and Nathan, rutting in a bed….
  6. Panel 6, The Affair Part II. Branden feels guilty, and Ayn is a shrew.
  7. Panel 7, Atlas Shrugged published, “A cult is born.”
  8. Panel 8, The End of the Affair. Branden has an affair with someone under 65, and Ayn excommunicates him.
  9. Panel 9, Ayn Dies. Alan Greenspan is there, and look how he’s effed everything up now.

So a full third of Ayn Rand’s contribution to literature and philosophy is that she bopped a second-rate self-esteem motivational speaker? I disbelieve and make a sign of warding here. It’s true, she erred, badly, with the whole Branden thing, but that’s hardly the sum of rational egoism or the messages within her novels and nonfiction.

Don’t get me wrong, I too have been cast from the reasoned land of capital-O Objectivism for thinking Ayn was less than perfect and that maybe Branden made some contributions to the objectivist cause, but to limit her life to nine panels, and her entire obra to an ill-advised affair and other cynical motives is to ignore the content of her work. Of course, maybe that’s the goal of modern criticism, or maybe modern critics just can’t make it through ~2000 pages of The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.

But I have. Twice, each. Nyah nyah.

So go watch Ayn Rand: A Sense of Life for the story beyond the cartoon. Beyond, perhaps, the cartoonist’s comprehension.

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Hitler Liked Dogs….and Books

Robert B. Parker’s fond of having his characters in his Spenser novels say, “Hitler liked dogs” as a way of illustrating how even the worst antagonist might have some refined or sympathetic characteristics. This month’s Atlantic Monthly also illustrates that Hitler liked books and was somewhat well-read.

As author Timothy Ryback recounts, Hitler gathered a large library beginning after World War I and collected books until his suicide. Ryback discovers a large amount of “dialoging with the text” wherein Hitler makes margin notes and underlines passages. This marginalia provides a sort of insight into his thought’s developments. The article’s a fascinating read.

Let this be a lesson to sophisticates, academics, and aesthetes who look down their noses at people with less formal education or less widely read in those contemporary “classics” that dictate the intellectually “in.” Being well-read differs from being good, or being right.

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Book Review and Gratuitous Slap at President

Pages magazine is a buzz book for the publishing industry, with many of the ads directly related to the content of the editorial copy. I got the March/April 2003 magazine as a part of my ongoing “market” (pleasepublishme) research.

So I came to “Trouble Man,” Heather L. Hughes’ review for Robert Young Pelton’s The World’s Most Dangerous Places. The book sounds like a slightly more serious treatment of the subject covered in P.J. O’Rourke’s Holidays In Hell–going to dangerous places and writing about what it’s like traveling there. I might pick a book like that up–after all, I did read Holidays in Hell.

I liked the review and had a favorable impression of the book until I got to the Typical Sanctimonious Condescension Digression (TSCD) about George W. Bush:

“The reason I wrote it funny and as a travel guide was I wanted to make it cool to care about things. To present politicians with their clothes off, rebel leaders without their dogma, to find the human motivations behind these people,” explains Pelton. “So when you see George [W.] Bush on TV making a speech about the axis of evil, you can flip to my book and go, ‘George, you don’t get out much, do you?’ George really needs my book. If he did get it and go out there, I’m sure he’d have a very different view on the world.”

Remarkable–hence, I remark. Examine the snobbish inconsistency in knowing others’ hearts: George W. Bush cannot know the hearts of evil men remotely, but Pelton can fathom Bush’s heart and worldliness from a speech on television. The quote comes out of nowhere to bash Bush, a throw made from left field when the recipient didn’t have eye contact. Scoring cheap points among People Who Love Books (for whom Pages publishes).

The review’s not available online, but I would recommend it for a browse if you’re in the coffeeshop of the local megabookstore. Just remember to leave a coffee ring around Robert Pelton’s intensely serious visage.

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