Zen?

Recently I read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig. It is one of those books that has been around for some time. People who were inclined to read it probably did so 25-30 years ago, but that doesn't matter because the story, although set at a particular time, is not limited in any way to the time in which it is set.

I found it fascinating, enlightening, aggravating, tedious. Yes, all of these things and more. To go after one point, I must take issue with the title. I would change it to "Perpetual Agonizing Over Abstruse Questions and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". I could find very little Zen anywhere in the book.

Don't get me wrong, the abstruse nature of the questions is no criticism. It just isn't Zen. Neither is the perpetual agonizing. Again, make no mistake, agony is a timeless quality of the human experience and can always be examined in a new way. I just don't understand why he came up with Zen in the title.

The book is often bleak and depressing. Pirsig presents his earlier adult life in the third person, someone who has died. He calls this person Phædrus. Slowly he drops hints that Phædrus is his own life, a life of the aforementioned perpetual agonizing that accompanies him to a nervous breakdown. This led to his hospitalization where he was evidently treated with shock therapy. The book relates a stretch of time after he had regained some control over his life.

I have ridden and worked on motorcycles and I found his discussions in this area very useful. He does indeed get into things that shop manuals should tell you, but don't. We can't really expect shop manuals to get into your state of mind, but quality work is dependent on the mechanic's ability to see the whole machine and feel a part of a delightful process and interconnectedness. He spends quite some effort on "Quality" and perhaps goes overboard here and there, but I think it is a worthy effort.

His travels across vast stretches of American landscape reminds me somewhat of William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways. The similarity quickly breaks down, however, in that Moon was traveling alone and Pirsig had his son with him. The presence of Chris, the son, is a significant if puzzling factor. Pirsig has what seems a troubled relationship with a boy he suggests is emotionally unwell. Add to this Pirsig's nightmares about death and I was feeling far removed from anything resembling Zen.

Peony by Pearl Buck

I am almost done reading "Peony" by Pearl S. Buck. I had never heard of the book before, but there it was in a book swap, amidst a number of throwaway paperbacks. It stood out, being a hard cover, and evidently a printing from some years ago. Turns out it is a first edition, published by John Day and dated 1948.

The book is extraordinary. It is evidently based on actual events. Set in China, it concerns the title character, a young Chinese woman who is a resident servant in a Jewish house and the people around her. Something I did not know is that China was a safe haven for Jews fleeing persecution in Europe. This sets up a story that gets into questions about culture, ethnicity, religion, belief, love, sex, honor, friendship, family, conflict, squalor, life and death, among other things.

The book is beautifully written. The story is captivating, compelling. Some transcendental moments appear here and there. The magic of the landscape and of nature are periodically evoked.

I recommend this book. You can find it on Amazon.com.

Commuter Rail Creativity

Yesterday there was a snow storm. Many people stayed home. Of course, I being the devoted worker walked through the snow to the train and rode into Porter Square. The train was on time! Not a typical thing, but a delightful change from normal.

Today, the weather dawned simply cool and cloudy. I got down to the train and boarded it about 5 minutes before scheduled departure. After 20 minutes I noticed the electronic message board changed from "All trains operating on or near schedule" to "The 410 has been cancelled. We apologize for the inconvenience." Then the crew announced the train was going nowhere and another train was ready to board behind the stricken train.

So I head over to the replacement train. I get in to the first car. No heat. I go to the next car, heat. Good. Make myself comfy. Get out my book. The train gets going and things seem somewhat normal until we get to South Acton. There, the crew says everyone hoping to get off before Porter Square must get off here because the train will be going non-stop to Porter Square. A bunch of people get off and stand there on the platform. The train leaves. The train then stops at Lincoln, Brandeis, and Waverly (perhaps other stations too, I was very much into the book) before stopping at Porter.

OK, forgive my curiosity, but what happened to those people left at South Acton? One guy who always gets off at Lincoln was left there. He could have stayed on and gone one more stop. Why did they do this? Deliberate prevarication seems unlikely. But something went terribly wrong this morning amongst the decision makers for the commuter rail.

Mitt loses

After John McCain won in New Hampshire, the Associated Press had this to say:

"It was a bitter blow for Romney, who spent millions of dollars of his own money in hopes of winning the kickoff Iowa caucuses and the first primary — and finished second in both. Even so, the businessman-turned politician said he would meet McCain next week in the Michigan primary, and he cast himself as just what the country needed to fix Washington. "I don't care who gets the credit, Republican or Democrat. I've got no scores to settle," he told supporters."

Sound familiar? Mitt was the guy to fix the mess on Beacon Hill. Now he wants to fix Washington? Absolute swill. But I suppose there is something good happening here. With Mitt spending millions of his own money, it is at least a form of redistribution of wealth, a concept entirely anathema to grasping, stingy old sinners.

Excoriations

Excoriations, what a name for a blog post. It may not be a good name. Too negative for those who know the word and too academically snobbish for those who don't. Then again, those who know the word might correctly assume that it is just a title, used for effect, not to be taken too seriously. And those who don't know it might be simply intrigued.

Excoriate: to denounce or berate severely; flay verbally.
But also: to strip off or remove the skin from.

I don't actually intend to devote all my time here to the former (literally) or the latter (figuratively). But there are some things I believe to be bad that I also believe should be identified as such. Talk may be cheap, but when the power brokers announce to us all that the moon is made of green cheese, we had better risk some cheap talk lest we risk some very expensive silence.