Imagine yourself caught up in an intrigue not of your making. You meet a stranger at a restaurant, strike up a casual conversation, then, once he's left realize he left behind him a folder connected to his work as a pharmaceutical chemist. You also know the information about a drug - Zembla 4 - in clinical trials is crucial. Being a good, considerate person you find a way to reach him, offering to drop the folder at his home. But when you get there he has a knife through his chest. He begs you to pull out the knife, which you do out of pity. On your way out you realize something chilling: your fingerprints are all over the knife, your shoe prints on the floor. But you had nothing to do with his murder. And, instinctually, took his folder with you.
This is what happened to Englishman Adam Kindred, a climatologist recently moved back to England after having lived in the United States, working as a university professor. After a brief fling with a student ends his marriage to a woman he felt reasonably sure he loved he feels he can no longer stay. So when a teaching position opens in an English university the thought of home pulls. He returns to Britain and interviews. The same day he meets Philip Wang, the chemist. It's also the same day he realizes life as he's known it is over.
With hundreds of thousands of dollars in the bank he's reduced to the money he has in this wallet. He dares not use his bank card knowing any use of technology will lead the police straight to him. He must go "off the grid," hiding until the real killer is found, or he finds a way to clear his name, assuming another identity and more generic look until then. Survival depends on his wits alone.
In the meantime both the police and a former- military hired killer are hot on his trail. The hired killer is being paid very big money, and after a brief and brutal conflict with Adam early on has his own personal reason for revenge.
Maybe it's because I don't normally read in this genre - because I know this is rather formulaic - but it kept me gripped. Knowing Adam was innocent, watching him undergo near-misses, beatings and psychological trauma was excrutiating. I cared for him and the other good (or redeemable) characters. They were all fully-realized and sympathetic.
Adam was intriguing partially because he was very smart, showing the capacity for "everyman" to be cunning and healthily paranoid when necessary. Learning how to blend in with thousands of other faces in London proved he had street smarts to go along with that university education. Only the few times he reached out for help and companionship did he trip up, so hungry for human interaction he gave others the benefit of the doubt without realizing the potentially dangerous repercussions - to himself and them. When he was on his own his behavior seemed flawless. When he thought with his heart he made himself vulnerable.
I can see how others more familiar with the genre might not be as enthralled as I was. As I said earlier, it was obvious even to me the plot was well-used. I've seen it in countless films, and pulling back to enable objectivity I don't know of any way in which it actually broke that mold though the process by which drugs are made and pushed through trials into production was fascinating. Frightening, but fascinating.
Whichever side of the plot fence you're on the book is well-written. William Boyd's style flows smoothly, his characters and sense of place flawless. Not once did I feel the urge to grab a red pen and strike out over-written passages, which says a lot for me.
Would I read more William Boyd? Absolutely. It passes my test of what makes a great read - I could hardly put the book down and yearned to pick it back up again. I loved it.
No word yet from KATE, the winner of Red Hook Road. Hopefully she'll email me (I have no way to contact her!), but if there's nothing by midnight tonight I'm going to re-do the random number generator and pull another.
To those who are coming to my blog for the first time via Patch (local online newspaper, for those outside the Kingdom of Lovely Algonquin - Gem of the Fox River Valley), very glad to meet you!
My husband and I have lived in Algonquin since 1994, when our 17 year old daughter was nine months old, my two sons mere gleams in their mother's eyes. My kids go to Algonquin schools, played softball and baseball with the AAYO, hung out at Angel Towne as little ones, and, with the rest of us, continue to endure the godawful traffic getting back and forth across the bridge.
I work at the Algonquin Area Public Library, and usually blog an awful lot about books. I know. Weird. I'm a book reviewer, write bits and pieces here and there, and you're welcome to poke around my blog and see what else I'm about.
In hindsight, some of it's probably going to embarrass me. I'll have to get used to people pointing at me in public because of something I've said, asking how the knee's doing, and many other things it's just too scary to think about. But ah, well! Carry on and all that.
Ahem.
But, welcome. Come often, stay late, and drop me a comment whenever you feel the urge. You may also email me, if you need anything. Until then, I'll be here.
Just email me a shipping address and I'll send your lovely, new copy of Red Hook Road posthaste!
My email:
lisaguidarini AT yahoo DOT com
Wonder if having the same name as Prince William's royal bride brought you luck? At any rate, Ayelet Waldman herself is to thank for your win, since you found it through her retweet.
Thank you, Ayelet!
To those who didn't win, do not despair... I promise there will be more giveaways.
I have here one paperback copy of Ayelet Waldman's novel Red Hook Road, and I want YOU (Yes, YOU) to have it, because I've already read it and don't want another copy I'm generous that way.
Become a Superior Person!
The paperback won't be released to the great unwashed hoards until May 31, 2011. Be the first in your neighborhood to own it! Run around the block, knocking on doors and bragging about how you own a book they CAN'T EVEN GET YET.
Well, inquiring minds, I will tell you. Leave me a comment on this message. I will assign a number to each comment, in order of commentation, randomly selecting one winner.
You will be notified both via a post here, and via email. So you have to make sure I have some way to reach you, or you'll lose out now won't you.
The Fine Print.
The contest will run until MIDNIGHT CST (Chicago, USA time) this Sunday, May 15. if you comment at 12:01 you're out of luck. That ship has sailed. You'll have to swim for it.
Remember, no pushing or shoving, name calling or hair pulling.
It's no secret the internet has your number. But it also has everything you've ever searched for, everything you've even hovered a mouse over, what books you've read on Kindle, how long you've spent on each page, what you've highlighted... The internet likely knows your blood type, children's names and ages, what their interests are and how they're doing in school. Likely? Oh, I'm sure it does.
When I was working to earn my M.S. in Library and Information Studies I took a course on intellectual freedom. Definitely the most fascinating topic I've ever studied. That was only two years ago, before several books about the internet's intrusion into our lives were published. Already, many in the class had an idea just how much about our lives was being bought and sold by marketing companies, how much of a trail we were leaving everywhere we went. There were, shockingly enough, naysayers who argued back, but not as vehemently as those of us who didn't know all the details, but had a pretty good suspicion we were being tracked, and not always with good intent.
The naysayers all pretty much had the same naive argument: If I'm not doing anything wrong, why should I care? But we're not talking about doing anything wrong! It's just everyday searching. Maybe you're looking up a malady a friend or family member was just diagnosed with, and it has nothing to do with you. The internet doesn't know that, it just knows you searched about it. Or, say, you're writing a paper, or an article, on drug addiction, internet porn addiction, or anything unrelated to you for which you need to search. Your information is going to go on some list, somewhere, and track you in perpetuity. Did you do anything "wrong"? No! But does the internet know that? Even if you were seeking help for something considered outside "normal" behavior, don't you have the right to?
This is so wrong, in so many ways, but we have no power over this. And it isn't going to stop. Why would it, when someone's making so much money from it?
"In the view of the "behavior market" vendors, every "click signal" you create is a commodity, and every move of your mouse can be auctioned off within microseconds to the highest commercial bidder."
I've blogged countless times on the internet and how it's a blessing and a curse, and I'm not talking solely about the invasion issue. I'm also very, very concerned about the influx of information on the human brain, and how it has and will change the synapses in our brain. I already see it in myself, and I didn't grow up with the internet. My attention is splintered. I often have ten or more windows open simultaneously, from going on tangents while reading - or skimming, rather - on article, leading me to another, then another, and I still haven't finished reading the page that lead me on the wild goose chase in the first place. And did I need to know all this information? Was it something I sought out, looking it up on my own? Often not. But the internet is seductive. Hyperlinks beg me to follow, and very often I do. Is this my fault or the internet's? Ultimately, it's mine. However, as with any addiction the internet can feel as though it's in control of me, rather than the truth, which is vice versa. Or, at least, I think that's the truth.
Eli Pariser opened my eyes to some of the sneaky - because it is, let's not pretend otherwise - ways marketing on the web is customized to each one of us. And I was already suspicious about how we were all being manipulated. Little did I realize how much.
I'd already noticed after I've looked something up online a related ad will pop up next to my email box. I'll even get email from a company offering to sell me something similar to what I've researched. For example: I have a bum knee, one I had surgery on last year to repair a torn meniscus tendon. Last evening I was looking through my Yahoo email and what did I see in the right sidebar? Yep, an ad for knee replacement surgery. Coincidence? Erm, NOT.
Pariser states:
"According to one Wall Street Journal study, the top fifty Internet sites, from CNN to Yahoo to MSN, install an average of 64 data-laden cookies and personal tracking beacons each. Search for a word like "depression" on Dictionary.com, and the site installs up to 223 tracking cookies and beacons on your computer so that other Web sites can target you with antidepressants."
But what, exactly, is the definition of the "filter bubble"?:
"The new generation of Internet filters looks at the things you seem to like - the actual things you've done, or the things people like you like - and tries to extrapolate. They are prediction engines, constantly creating and refining a theory of who you are and what you'll do and want next. Together, these engines create a unique universe of information for each of us - what I've come to call a filter bubble ..."
There's another problem with all this, one I also argued for in my Master's class. When the internet thinks it knows you, it presents you with like information. So, how much energy and effort does it take to break free from that and explore totally unrelated things? What happens to serendipity?
Personally, I don't worry as much about this for myself. I read rabidly and widely, becoming interested in something new all the time, pursuing much of the information I'm interested in via books and web sites. Frankly, I think the internet would have a fair amount of challenge profiling me, when I'm looking up Victorian novelists one week, and the history of Russia the next. Then again, they'll see history as a common theme. So maybe I'm not as immune as I think.
"It's become a bit in vogue to pick on the human brain." Pariser states. "We're "predictably irrational," ... we're terrible at figuring out what makes us happy. Like audience members at a magic show, we're easily conned, manipulated, and misdirected."
Alright. So, being in the Information Studies profession I'm already pretty wary of what is and is not "true" information. I'm a skeptic by nature, untrusting and suspicious. So am I immune from all this manipulation? Not at all. I'm less likely to fall for things, but not at all immune.
But the general public, the average American, let us say, is probably much less skeptical. This would be why sites like Snopes.com exist, sites that pull the plug on untruths. Ever gotten an email warning you about alligators or snakes invading sewer lines, stories about how one person was bitten and how YOU COULD BE NEXT! What about email saying you've won a laptop computer, and all you need to do is CLICK HERE to claim it? A Nigerian you've never met wants to give you money, you say, and all you have to do is give your bank account number? Goofy as this stuff sounds, someone, somewhere is falling for it. If that wasn't so, "they" wouldn't keep doing it.
In his concluding chapters, Pariser outlines what rights we should have regarding the use of our information, from the 1973 Department of Housing, Education and Welfare:
- We should know who has our personal data, what data they have, and how it's used.
- We should be able to prevent information collected about us for one purpose from being used by others.
- We should be able to correct inaccurate information about us.
- Our data should be secure.
Should, yes. But is there any way this will ever happen now? Can ever happen? As Pariser quoted earlier in the book, the genie can never be put back inside the bottle.
Now that you're thoroughly depressed and anxious, I wish I could leave you with some sort of reassuring information. Unfortunately, Pariser's book, the result of deep, thorough research, can't guarantee positive change. We should be vigilant, yes, things shouldn't be this way. But what will make that so?
Figure that out and you'll be a Nobel Prize winner. Best of luck. Meanwhile, give The Filter Bubble a read. It may not change the world, but it has the potential to light a fire under all of us. And that's the first step toward pushing for radical change. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes, and this book goes a long way toward revealing useful information in a readable, non-scientific way. It's for the average reader, those of us without degrees in economics, marketing, etc. Fascinating stuff, even when it's horrifying. Learn these things. You have the right.
When Nina Sankovitch lost her oldest sister, Ann-Marie, to bile duct cancer at the age of forty-six it left a hole in her life so huge she thought nothing could ever fill it. Sankovitch, a wife and the mother of four boys, reacted to her loss by immersing herself in life, joining too many committees, being the perfect mom - active in her sons' school and other committments - generally keeping herself too exhausted to stop and grieve. Not an uncommon way to handle grief, not that there's a common way everyone chooses. Each person chooses his or her own way to deal with loss, whether it be death, divorce or anything one cares about deeply, then has taken away. For Nina Sankovitch, her choice was living a frantic existence.
After a time this way of living began to take its toll; she realized she had to make some changes to her life before she wore herself down completely. Being a life-long avid reader - a trait she'd shared with her entire family, including Anne-Marie - she hit upon the idea of reading a book a day for a year, not just reading them, but reviewing them, as well. So she set up a blog, ReadAllDay.org, posting her reviews, meeting other readers, and keeping a virtual diary of one year's worth of daily reading.
The books she read had to fit certain criteria: she couldn't repeat authors, the books had to be at least one inch thick, and they needed to be the sorts of books she'd have shared with Anne-Marie, were she still alive. Some of the books came from the library, some from her favorite independent bookstore, and there were some recommendations friends loaned her. And all of them, when possible, needed to be read while sitting in her favorite purple reading chair, one that smelled like cat urine. Because this was where she loved to read, where she felt comfortable, and it just felt right.
All told, the list of the 365 books she read (listed at the back of her book) are richly varied, everything from collections of short stories to novels to works of nonfiction, from Toni Morrison to Nick Hornby to, naturally, Tolstoy, and so many more.
Within the space of her book she couldn't, of course, talk about every book she read between October 2008 to October 2009. She hits the highlights, weaving in stories about her parents and sisters, as well as her husband, sons, and the brother-in-law left behind when Ann-Marie died. We're taken along with her on a 365-day journey toward coming to terms with the acceptance of her loss, a realization it wasn't her fault her sister died and she lived on, that there was life after loss, and times of joy she should never feel guilty about.
The book is, though it may sound strange to say it, an absolute joy. We've all experienced some sort of loss, and dealt with it in ways positive and negative. Nina Sankovitch first dealt with her loss negatively, then turned her energy around to something positive she could feel good about and also share with other readers who came upon her website. Her book is an extension of her project, a way to reach out to more readers and those who grieve. And it is pure magic.
Anyone who loves books and reading cannot fail to love Tolstoy and the Purple Chair. Nor can you finish the book not wanting to read all the books she talks about, all the books on her list of 365. Her list is a gift to you, the reader, another kindness passed along through means of a loss, a way of finding redemption, of a sort, for a sister lost but not forgotten. Through this book Sankovitch shares a little of her sister, a singular way of expressing her love over and over again by reaching out to other readers. A must-read for all book lovers.
[Thank you to Amazon for my free review copy of this book.]
