Category: Books

  • Never Let Me Go

    Kazuo Ishiguro

    This is only the second Kazuo Ishiguro book I am reading. But I found at least a few parallels from The Remains of the Day. For starters, both books left me incredibly sad. Some of it is for the plight of the characters, and some of it is do with the other commonality in both the books – the awareness of what could have been. Another thing I noticed is how the principal characters of both books develop a different perspective when they drive through the English countryside.

    Barring this, the books are quite different. (mild #spoilers ahead) This one is set in quite a dystopian future – humans are cloned for organ harvesting, raised in environments that don’t allow a lot of interaction with the outside world, not really made aware of their future, and are not even considered to be real humans capable of feelings and emotions. The focus of the book, though, is on three characters , their relationship with each other, and the world around them.

    It doesn’t really start off with a lot of intensity. The beginning, though it alternates between different phases in the narrator’s life, has a very Malory Towers feel to it (I thought) with different teachers (guardians), the institution and its myths and norms, and the relationship between them and the students, and between the students themselves with their friendships and rivalries. But even that early, one can catch the difference – a clear one being the exhibitions and the “gallery”, both of which are a forum for the students’ creative expression – and this does turn out to be an important theme in the book. The book then traces the life of these students as they step out into a different environment and progressively take up their prescribed roles in society.

    It left me thinking on quite a few things – these humans cannot have children of their own. Is their art supposed to be a means of immortality? But contrast that with how the author dismisses the value of art a couple of times. What are the ‘carers’ and ‘donors’ an allegory for? Is there some sort of parallel for our roles as children and parents, and how both of them, in a way, contribute to us not being a version of ourselves that we could be if they weren’t in our lives? And to end, the bittersweet irony of humans without emotions becoming carers and donors, and exhibiting a complex set of feelings that are on par, if not rival that of the humans they are ‘serving’.

    This is one of those books that drew me in, and without a lot of fuss and theatrics, engaged me in a deep way. Loved it.

  • Against Empathy

    Paul Bloom

    As far as the title goes, he was preaching to the choir. My thoughts on empathy have been shaped over the last few years based on some excellent books like The Selfish Gene, The Moral Animal, Thinking Fast and Slow, Who’s in Charge? and even How Adam Smith Can Change Your Life, which is quoted by the author quite a bit. These thoughts are not kind to empathy being the best guide for decision making of the moral or even sometimes the day to day kind. They also favour rational compassion. So, theoretically, this book should have worked for me, especially because it has been recommended by some of my favourite thinkers.

    But it didn’t to the extent that I had hoped it would. This, I think, is largely because the premise of “against empathy” required little validation for me, it was the case for rational compassion that I was more interested in. After all, disproving one thing is not always automatic proof for another, even if the “another” is part of the title of the book! Unfortunately, the book spends just spends the last 10 pages (of 241) on rational compassion. Or at best 25, if one extends a benefit of doubt to occasions where the author argues for it in related contexts.

    I did come across a few interesting things though. Some framing for example – how both folks for and against gun control/immigration are possibly driven by empathy. The only difference is who they are empathetic to. And quotes – this one being my favourite – “Scratch an altruist, and watch a hypocrite bleed” ~ Michael Ghiselin. (I really believe in this one, and the selfish interests that drives erm, selflessness) I realised that I was in the august company of Thomas Hobbes and Abraham Lincoln in this. There are also interesting concepts like the moralization gap – how we discriminate between the immorality of acts done to us and done by us (exaggerate the first, downplay the other).
    The arguments are a mixed bag, but the writing style is witty and accessible and I would recommend it to folks who are intrigued by the thought of being against empathy. If you’ve already arrived at it via thinking/reading, this could help you in validation, but only on the first part of the title.

  • Freedom

    Daniel Suarez

    If you’ve read Daemon, I suspect it’d be very difficult to not read its sequel. If you haven’t, you know where to start!
    Freedom picks up right where Daemon left off with the kind of intense action that dominated the last portion of the latter. Even as the Daemon systematically tears apart the corporations and financial systems that rule the world, its enemies prepare to launch a counter attack. What makes it all interesting is that the different players in the game have divergent agendas.

    It is also interesting that the book brings to life at least a few concepts that I have read in non-fiction in the context of how unemployment, extreme capitalism and the wealth divide will cause fundamental shifts in civilised society. Neo-feudalism, trust based community networks, and the irrelevancy of state borders are a few examples. In doing that, it also shows the possibility of how new systems could end up just like old systems because the basic human tendencies remain constant.

    The narrative sets a scorching pace, and one is tempted to just zoom forward a few pages just to know how a plot point is going to end. Excellent read!

    P.S. I somehow felt that it was written with a movie or two in mind. Almost like a screenplay.

  • The Rise of the Robots

    Martin Ford

    The bad news – it would seem that the robocracy is inevitable. The good news – this is a very well written book!
    In most robotics and AI narratives, what gets lost is the nuance as folks very firmly root themselves in polarising camps on the future of our species. The reason why this book worked for me was because its focus was less on the dramatic headline (what) and more on why it would happen. It is a very well researched book and sets about debunking popular schools of thought in a very clinical manner. The author is also wise enough to call out the things he is not sure of and mention alternate points of view, as well as objective enough to not fall for the hype of everything that’s new and supposedly disruptive.

    Though he does begin with the now ascertained fact that the first wave of automation will take away the routine and predictable jobs, he also warns that it won’t stop there. Even what we would call the higher end jobs will be safe only for a while longer. He is clear that this is a wave of disruption different from what we have seen before because the cognitive abilities that get developed will be replicable and scalable. He also demolishes a couple of currently popular coping mechanisms – consistent re-skilling, and man-machine collaboration.

    The second half of the book focuses on the economic and societal implications of the rise of the robots. He predicts the fall of middle class demand as well as economic mobility, as incomes stagnate or disappear completely, and warns that economic growth would not be sustainable since robots cannot be expected to be consumers, and the plutocracy (top 5% of the population) which has the money can only consume so much!

    The solution he believes in is some version of a universal income which would ensure the participation of a larger segment of the population and give some semblance of prosperity to everyone. But he also sees several challenges in execution.

    Beyond the broader narrative, there are some fascinating statistics and anecdotes – the development of Watson, the scarily increasing time it takes for employment to regain its original levels after a recession, the sale price of Internet behemoths (YouTube, Instagram, Whatsapp) framed as a cost/employee, and so on.

    While the outcomes may not really be palatable to anyone who belongs to the species, it doesn’t take away from what a fascinating read this is!

  • The ocean at the end of the lane

    Neil Gaiman

    ‘Tender’ is probably the word I’d use if I had to describe this book in a word. I have to admit that it wasn’t until the last few pages that I started reading it non-literally. And then it hit me, a bit like waves that seem benign from far and then strike you with tremendous force.

    You could read the book like a simple fantasy story or you could make guesses on the possible symbolism at work. In the first case, it is a gripping tale of a little boy caught in the midst of forces far outside the realms of a normal English life. A vulnerable yet determined child, his enigmatic guardians, and a monster of a nanny all make for a very interesting read.
    It gets even more interesting if it’s the latter – possibly a commentary on growing up, feminism, relationships and so on. It also raises a question of what is real and what isn’t. In a way, aren’t the ‘stories’ that we make up to absorb, confront, or just handle the things that happen to us as children as true as the things that really happened? How true are our memories when we remember the past?

    P.S. Loved it for this – “I lay on the bed and lost myself in the stories. I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.”