Pop Culture Musing for a Friday 4/29/11

The Ghost: As lovely and flawless as the royal wedding turned out to be, I couldn’t help but be awash in the spectre of the “elephant in the Abbey.” In personal touches, such as William’s nervous habit of chewing on his lip (just like his mother), to the irony of Charles and Camilla over-lording the nuptials of her first son, or a simple well-wisher holding her photo (above), it was difficult to escape Diana’s larger-than-death presence. Though I never thought that Kate could really hold a candle to the indelible fairy-tale image of her predecessor, her poise did reflect one of to the palace born. No doubt Diana was much younger when she assumed her moment at the center of the universe, but Middleton’s demeanor showed none of the endearing shyness or tremulousness of the Princess of Wales back in 1981. That bodes well for the new HRH, Duchess of Cambridge, and I have a feeling that this is one tough cookie who’s not looking to crumble.

(Photo: Julian Finney/Getty Images)

A Hybrid “Social Animal”

In The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement, the New York Times bestseller by Times op-ed columnist David Brooks, the writer attempts what could be called a hybrid socio-novel, featuring the lifelong journey of an allegorical couple named Harold and Erica, whose lives serve as paradigms that springboard into broad-ranging examinations of subjects ranging from genetics to culture, economics to education, and towards the end, a familiar forte for Brooks: politics.

Brooks the intellectual has it all over Brooks the novelist in what is ultimately a highly disjointed effort to meld the world of fiction with what is essentially a big factoid of a book. Using outside characters to make larger points about the basics of the human mind and existence turns out to be unnecessary and obtrusive; no sooner are you connecting with Harold and Erica than the narrative jumps right back into data mode.

The fits and starts ultimately make it impossible to see them as anything more than stick figures around which Brooks builds an assortment of stats and abstracts – all valuable, no question – but making you wonder whether a straight-on sociological treatise may have made more sense.

Though the fiction conceit falls short as a whole, the research studies cited by the author are impactful. One, “The Famous Marshmallow,” has to do with impulse control and groups of four-year-olds involved in a 1970s study. Apparently, those kids who were able to refrain from devouring a marshmallow by several minutes in anticipation of another one if they did so, would go on to execute SAT scores a full 210 points higher than those who could only wait a few seconds. Naturally, they were also more successful in later life. (The experiment proved to be even more predictive than actual IQ tests.) Another interesting discussion in-volves something called “Metis” (reminiscent of Malcolm Gladwell’s concept of “The Tipping Point”), where an individual’s acquisition of practical skills allows him or her to preanticipate change.

Many other make-you-ponder moments permeate, such as philosopher Andy Clark’s observation, “We use intelligence to structure our environment so that we can succeed with less intelligence.” And Brooks’ own definition of wisdom as “a willingness to confront counterevidence and to have a feel for the vast spaces beyond what’s known.”

The megainformation (much of it tidbits and percentages, and supplemented by 26 pages of notes) is consistently compelling. More importantly, Social Animal lays out Brooks’ breadth of mind as a thinker, which, though misguided in the basic construct of this book, is nevertheless extraordinary in its expansiveness.

[First published as Book Review: The Social Animal: 
The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement
by David Brooks, on Blogcritics.org.]

In the Shoes of the Fisherman

April marks six years since the death of John Paul II, and with Holy Week and Easter around the corner on the Christian calendar, it seemed an appropriate occasion for a look at Light of the World — The Pope, the Church, and the Signs of the Times, based on a series of conversations conducted by a biographer of Benedict XVI, Peter Seewald.

Seen from afar, the former Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, right, may seem an aloof figure (though I’ve always been drawn to a certain warmth behind his eyes), and the pontiff’s towering intellect is not a mitigating factor in the intimidation department. (Let’s face it, his predecessor had the lock on warm and fuzzy.) The same rather applies to his comments in this book, which, while on the dry side, do have their moments of illumination. You come away with a real feeling of humbleness at the enormous responsibility thrust upon him (“As far as the Pope is concerned, he too is a simple beggar before God – even more than all other people”).

Many would probably be interested in the chapters dealing with the child-abuse scandals, but I was more intrigued with others, such as “Mary and the Message of Fatima,” where the German prelate supreme, who’s known for being more theologically focused on Jesus Christ, speaks about the deep relevance of the Virgin Mary in all her representations as guidance for the faithful.  And “Popes Do Not Fall from the Sky,” where the ever-intellectual Benedict flatly declares “I’m no mystic,” as it applies to the mysteries of steering Christ’s flock as sovereign shepherd.

Though Seewald’s questions are sometimes maddingly involved, the book provides some valuable glimpses inside the mind of the Catholic Church’s “defender of reason” in this most transitional of times. At the end, I found the biggest truth of all in his simple statement:  “Faith develops.”

[First published as Book Review: Light of the World –
The Pope, the Church and the Signs of the Times
by Peter Seewald, on Blogcritics.org.]

Spring Reading

Looking at a list of books due or out this season, with an eye on literary fiction (The Pale King, by the late and gone-too-early David Foster Wallace, is much anticipated), I also saw that the conglomerates of Jodi Picoult and Danielle Steel continue to churn out novels like donuts at the Krispy Kreme. (And Mary Higgins Clark releases her 43rd mystery, which will bullet to #1, as usual.)

I wonder if they really deliver so prolifically by themselves, or whether they have something going on like another uber-bestselling scribe, James Patterson, who acknowledges he’s no longer actually involved in the writing of the quickie tomes that feature his byline; he provides outlines to various collaborators who follow his established formula for the final product. Anyone who’s read a Patterson novel (I plead guilty) pretty much knows the pattern — two-word chapters, anyone? — so it’s probably a by-rote endeavor for the crime novelist’s accomplices. Taking it a step further is the Sidney Sheldon “franchise,” with the author’s name (he died in 2007) tacked on books now executed by assorted romance/suspense writer-heirs.

Though the KFC-ing of the writing profession may be abhorrent to many, I admit I sometimes find these vacuous alternatives entertaining in times of stress. Formidable no-brainers when real thinking is to be avoided like the plague. But ‘til the next indulgence, it’s time for the Wallace, left (to be published on the 15th).

The Way the Ball Pounces

The Sony Ericsson Open (a tennis event many consider the sport’s fifth “major” after the Australian, French, Wimbledon, and U.S. tournaments), wrapped up in Miami over the weekend with the No.1 and 2 seeds meeting in the men’s singles final after a long interval.

But the disappointment for most was the dismal semifinal that pitted Roger Federer and top-ranked Rafael Nadal. Anticipation was high, as Nadal and Federer (below, after the match) had not competed against each other on American territory in six years. The excitement went poof pretty quickly as “El Torito” (the “little bull,” as I like to call Nadal) literally gored the Swiss “gazelle” in a 6-3, 6-2 trampling. Sadder still were the questions posed to Federer (now #3 in the world) afterwards, as he almost had to plead not to be written off by members of the sports press. (“I’m still only 29,” he exasperatedly countered at one point.)

It’s all such a déjà vu. Looking back on so many champions who went through the same cycle at some point in their careers, it makes you wonder what the compulsion is to run people out of town before their moment has come (of course, this applies not only to tennis). Personally, I would appreciate witnessing Federer’s greatness as long as possible, and as long as he’s competitive.

One speculates about Nadal and his newfound rivalry of the moment with Novak Djokovic (who topped him in the third-set tiebreaker on Sunday). How much time will be allotted the Spaniard, now 24, if similar losses were to continue?