The Questioning Librarian

Last evening, I was listening to Icelandic composer Johann Johannsson, whose music is a delight to hear. Most recently, he composed the soundtrack to the film The Theory of Everything , but I have known and listened to his alternately haunting and moving music for years before that. His powers are on full display in his Fordlandia album, music inspired by the failed experiment of Henry Ford, such as this extended piece below. It made me wonder just what it is about the character of Iceland that has crafted artists like Johannsson, like Sigur Ros or Olafur Arnalds. For that matter, what was it about Russia that crafted Tolstoy and Dostoevsky? Not too many years ago, some doyens of English literary criticism insisted that the work of an author was to be analyzed without the context of the author's life, which would also exclude considering the larger culture at the time. This was a paltry view, to my mind, for we are products of our culture and do not exist independently of ...

Last week National Geographic  released video from what is being hailed as the first simulation of the evolution of the universe. In what must have taken thousands of hours of work, this depiction of the universe shows the evolution of early galaxies, beginning a mere twelve million years after the big bang occurred. Take a look: One can hardly help but be moved by the sight of it, of seeing the universe unfold before our very eyes. No simulation is perfect, of course, but as a representation of the best science available at present it still carries with it a great majesty. Seeing the passage of such an immense length of time is humbling; it reminds us of the brevity of our own lives and puts the hubris of humanity firmly in its place. This is one of the joys of science, the ability that science has to convey wonder to us, from the evolution of the universe and the images from the Hubble Telescope to the sense of deep time that comes from looking at the rocks and fossils ...

I spend a fair amount of time thinking about the meaning of life. This is not unusual. It seems that nearly everyone has to come to terms with this question, wrestle with it a bit until they finally settle on an answer that gives them peace and allows them to go forward with life. Humanity has spent quite a lot of time dealing with this question as well--differing philosophies and religious belief systems attempt as best they can to provide an answer, though there has never been agreement as to what the meaning of life is. It also seems to me to be intrinsically linked to the question of what constitutes a good life, for certainly to have had a good life one must have understood what the meaning was. We, collectively and individually, search for a meaning to life that we can take as our own, one that gives us purpose and helps us make sense of the cold and chaotic universe we inhabit, where looking at the vastness of it all seems to mock the very idea that there is meaning and purpose...

There is beauty in desolation. There is, for me, a beauty in leafless trees, in cold, wind-swept landscapes, in the gathering of crows calling out into the evening air. Some people dislike the barrenness that comes at the ending of fall, but I take joy in the transition, in seeing the leaves blown across fields, the bare limbs reaching up into the sky like beseeching hands. It is a feeling that is hard to explain. While others see ugliness, the death of summer and decay, I see transition, the fuel for future life being laid down right before our eyes, if only we care to look. We don't like the idea of time slipping away from us; we detest the sight of death and vigorously avoid dealing with the fact that we will all have to face it at one point. Yet continued life depends on the very death and decay we so avoid. This is an inevitable fact of our biosphere, of our cosmos in fact. The nutrients that are taken up in the trees come back to earth when the leaves fall; the tall gras...

A few days ago, a friend of mine posted a blog listing the twelve books he recommends for understanding the world. These are, in his words, essential reads. This post made me start thinking of what my own list would be. A list like this is going to be different for each reader, for we are all individuals and different books will impact us in different ways, based on our own tastes and where we are in life when we encounter a work. So what books would I recommend for understanding the world? I read so much, that narrowing it down was a tough call; this list will, I'm sure, certainly change as time goes by. At this point, however, these twelve books are ones that have helped me understand the world a little better in one way or another, books that moved me or enraged me, ones that have helped to transform how I see and think about the world. 1. The Children of Hurin by J.R. R. Tolkien Some of my friends might be surprised that I didn't choose The Hobbit  for this lis...

You know, sometimes in life it is far too easy to take the myopic view, one in which you are unable to look past your own problems to see the greater picture. It is easy to slide into a sad state, pitying oneself and raging against the unfairness of it all, though at this point I'm so cynical that one would think that I am beyond pointless questions of "fairness", a very trite notion with no basis at all in reality. It is too easy to stop looking past one's own problems to take in the world around them, to slide into a gloom so pervasive that all else is blocked out. When that state of mind happens to describe myself, this video helps. One's own problems surely seem tiny in comparison to the vastness and grandeur of the Universe as science has begun to reveal. It is rather difficult to be sad about a minute problem when you realize the sheer scale of things. Enjoy. "The Known Universe" by the American Museum of Natural History