The Female Man by Joanna Russ

Source of book: I own this

 

Perhaps one unofficial theme of my reading the past few years has been to work a little science fiction into my queue, particularly classics by female authors. In this case, I have added to Ursula Le Guin and Octavia Butler another important author, Joanna Russ. 

 

Russ was perhaps the most overtly feminist science fiction writer of her time, wielding form itself as a protest against the patriarchy, blending argument with narrative, and generally refusing to play by the rules. 

 

I wasn’t all that familiar with Russ until a few years ago, when the Library of America shared a short story (“When it Changed”) online. 

 

The Female Man is related to that short story in that both contain the alternate earth of “Whileaway” and the character of Janet Evanson. However, there are some differences in addition to the many similarities. 

 

The title itself is an allusion to Gulliver’s Travels: the book refers to Queen Anne by that term. That is only one of a number of literary references in the book. Consider them easter eggs for those who read. 

 

I mentioned that the book intentionally defies the idea of narrative form. There are four main characters, and the book is from each of their perspectives at different points. But it isn’t always clear when that perspective changes - you have to pay close attention, and even then, it won’t be clear at first. 

 

The book also jumps around in time and place, sometimes lapsing into extended dissertations on gender dynamics. It makes for a bit of a disorienting experience. This was one of the rare books where I would finish a section, then go read an online summary to be sure I was understanding the plot (such as it is) correctly. Or at least in line with how others have understood it. 

 

I would say that this is one of the more difficult books I have read this year for that reason. This was also a contrast to the short story, which had a conventional narrative style. 

 

Let me see if I can at least give an idea of what the book is about. 

 

There are four women, who are possibly different versions of the author. They each live in alternative realities - possible presents or futures for our own planet. 

 

Joanna, the most obvious stand-in for the author, lives in our own reality, or at least the 1970s America of the time the book was written. She, like the author, is feminist and lesbian, and working to smash the patriarchy. 

 

Jeanine, on the other hand, is a timid librarian who feels forced into a conventional marriage. Her world is one where World War Two never happened, and the world is still mired in the Great Depression decades later. Little technological or social progress has been able to occur. 

 

Janet is from Whileaway, a potential future earth, where a plague has killed all of the males, and humans can only reproduce by fusing ova. This is a technologically advanced society that has returned to agrarian living and protection of the environment. Love is free, other than taboos on intergenerational sex, and childrearing is mostly communal. 

 

Jael is the fourth woman, and she is from a planet where men and women live in completely separate societies, which are locked in a sort of cold war. For Jael, radical feminism means men will eventually be exterminated. 

 

As you can see, these are four very different visions of possible societies, from the most patriarchal to the caricature of the “man-hating feminist.” As I noted, the character most like the author - and who shares her name - is Joanna, who refers to herself as “the female man” as her way of asserting her essential humanity, a full equal of any male. 

 

Beyond that, all I will say is that the four of them eventually meet. As I said before, even the idea of a “plot” is subverted by the author. Things do happen, but there is no real arc other than the idea of feminism as seen through these alternate universes. It’s an interesting idea, but definitely not what a typical science fiction reader would expect. 

 

My advice would be to keep a summary handy (if you wish), and just jump in and enjoy the ride. 

 

As usual, I took some notes about lines that I liked. There are a lot of zingers in this one, with an unabashed loathing of the shit that women continue to have inflicted on them in our toxically patriarchal society. 

 

Early on in the book, Janet, newly arrived on our earth, is interviewed for the news. And it is…uh…interesting. 

 

MC: When the - ah - plague you spoke of killed the men on Whileaway, weren’t they missed? Weren’t families broken up? Didn’t the whole pattern of life change?

JE (slowly): I suppose people always miss what they are used to. 

 

And later in the interview, the awkward attempts to say “sex” without saying it. 

 

MC: But Miss Evason, I am not talking about economic institutions or even affectionate ones. Of course the mothers of Whileaway love their children; nobody doubts that. And of course they have affection for each other; nobody doubts that either. But there is more, much, much more - I am talking about sexual love. 

JE (enlightened): Oh! You mean copulation. 

MC: Yes.

JE: And you say we don’t have that?

MC: Yes.

JE: How foolish of you. Of course we do.

MC: Ah? (He wants to say, “Don’t tell me.”)

JE: With each other. Allow me to explain. 

 

At that point, there is a sudden cut to a commercial…

 

There is an observation by Janet after her sudden appearance on earth is greeted with fear and threatened violence. 

 

[E]veryone knows that anger is most intense towards those you know: it is lovers and neighbors who kill each other. There’s no sense, after all, in behaving that way towards a perfect stranger; where’s the satisfaction? No love, no need; no need, no frustration; no frustration, no hate, right? It must have been fear. 

 

And another interview is fascinating. 

 

INTERVIEWER: It seems odd to all of us, Miss Evason, that in venturing into such - well, such absolutely unknown territory - that you should have come unarmed with anything except a piece of string. Did you expect us to be peaceful?

JE: No. No one is, completely.

INTERVIEWER: Then you should have armed yourself.

JE: Never.

INTERVIEWER: But an armed person, Miss Evason, is more formidable than one who is helpless. An armed person more readily inspires fear.

JE: Exactly.

 

Many of the parts (there are chapters within the parts) begin not with plot, but with philosophy. In some cases, the opening sentence warns of the upcoming lecture, and gives the reader a chance to skip to the next chapter. But the lectures are fascinating too. 

 

Here is a bit, which I believe is from Jeanine’s perspective. 

 

I was moody, ill-at-ease, unhappy, and hard to be with. I didn’t relish my breakfast. I spent my whole day combing my hair and putting on make-up. Other girls practiced with the shot-put and compared archery scores, but I - indifferent to javelin and crossbow, positively repelled by horticulture and ice hockey 

- all I did was

dress for The Man

smile for The Man

talk wittily to The Man

sympathize with The Man

flatter The Man

understand The Man

defer to The Man

entertain The Man

keep The Man

live for The Man.

 

One secondary character who gets a bit of time in the book is Laura, the teen girl of the family that Janet lives with while she is on earth. Laura is frustrated at being a girl for the usual reasons. Including the way her mother tells her to give up her own dreams to marry a man who can live his. 

 

She said that instead of conquering Everest, I could conquer the conqueror of Everest and while he had to go climb the mountain, I could stay home in lazy comfort listening to the radio and eating chocolates. She was upset, I suppose, but you can’t imbibe someone’s success by fucking them. 

 

At times, the book is really quite hilarious. For example, this exchange between Jeanine and Janet. 

 

JEANINE: But we might lose our way.

JANET: You can’t. I’m here and I know the way.

JEANINE: Suppose you weren’t with us. Suppose we’d killed you.

JANET: Then it would certainly be preferable that you lose your way!

 

I will mention the chapter where Janet goes to a rather tedious party, and is accosted by an even more tedious and boorish man. Who tries to make a move, and finds himself utterly flattened by Janet. She then proceeds to mock every last vestige of his arrogant masculinity. It’s what I think most women wish they could do at least once. (My wife read her CEO out at a party back in the day…) 

 

Another one of the lectures mocks the stupidity of courtship in our culture. 

 

The game is a dominance game called I Must Impress This Woman. Failure makes the active player play harder. 

 

The amount of ink spilled telling men how to play the game better is ridiculous. And, as Russ snarkily points out, it is beyond tedious to women. 

 

Oh, and this one, in a chapter entitled The Great Happiness Contest (this happens a lot). 

 

FIRST WOMAN: I’m perfectly happy. I love my husband and we have two darling children. I certainly don’t need any change in my lot.

SECOND WOMAN: I’m even happier than you are. My husband does the dishes every Wednesday and we have three darling children, each nicer than the last. I’m tremendously happy.

THIRD WOMAN: Neither of you is as happy as I am. I’m fantastically happy. My husband hasn’t looked at another woman in the fifteen years we’ve been married, he helps around the house whenever I ask it, and he wouldn’t mind in the least if I were to go out and get a job. But I’m happiest in fulfilling my responsibilities to him and the children. We have four children.

FOURTH WOMAN: We have six children. (This is too many. A long silence.) I have a part-time job as a clerk in Bloomingdale’s to pay for the children’s skiing lessons, but I really feel I’m expressing myself best when I make a custard or a meringue or decorate the basement.

ME: You miserable nits, I have a Nobel Peace Prize, fourteen published novels, six lovers, a town house, a box at the Metropolitan Opera, I fly a plane, I fix my own car, and I can do eighteen push-ups before breakfast, that is, if you’re interested in numbers. 

ALL THE WOMEN: Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.

 

Or this one:

 

HE: I can’t stand stupid, vulgar women who read Love Comix and have no intellectual interests. 

ME: Oh my, neither can I.

HE: I really admire refined, cultivated, charming women who have careers.

ME: Oh my, so do I.

HE: Why do you think those awful, stupid, vulgar, commonplace get so awful?

ME: Well, probably, not wishing to give any offense and after considered judgment and all that, and very tentatively, with the hope that you won’t jump on me - I think it’s at least partly your fault.

(long silence)

HE: You know, on second thought, I think bitchy, castrating, unattractive, neurotic women are even worse. Besides, you’re showing your age. And your figure’s going.

 

I suspect these are literal conversations she has had with others. The first one is literally the Fundie subculture. Except that six kids are okay now, because radical fecundity and out-reproduce the brown people. 

 

I find I am mostly quoting the “lectures.” Perhaps because quoting the plot wouldn’t work well. But there are some super zingers in the lectures. Here is another bit, from Joanna explaining why she chose to be a “female man.” After describing the objectification and disrespect, she notes that eventually, women just disappear. 

 

This is until you’re forty-five, ladies, after which you vanish into thin air like the smile of the Cheshire Cat, leaving behind only a disgusting grossness and a subtle poison that automatically infects every man under twenty-one. Nothing can put you above this or below this or beyond it or outside of it, nothing, nothing, nothing at all, not your muscles or your brains, not being one of the boys or being one of the girls or writing books or writing letters or screaming or wringing your hands or cooking lettuce or being too tall or being too short or traveling or staying at home or ugliness or acne or indifference or cowardice or perpetual shrinking and old age. In the latter cases you’re only doubly damned. 

 

And this:

 

Anyway every-boy (sorry) everybody knows that what women have done that is really important is not to constitute a great, cheap labor force that you can zip in when you’re at war and zip out again afterwards but to Be Mothers, to form the coming generation, to give birth to them, to nurse them, to mop floors for them, to love them, cook for them, clean for them, change their diapers, pick up after them, and mainly sacrifice themselves for them. This is the most important job in the world. That’s why they don’t pay you for it. 

 

I once had this sort of a conversation with a former acquaintance. She was giving the usual right wing line that feminism has somehow “devalued” women and women’s work. I pointed out what Russ does here: that what has really devalued the work that women do is that we don’t PAY them for it. Right wingers love to moan about falling birth rates (in their preferred demographic, at least), and propose cures. But for some reason, not one of them is willing to accept that in our economic system, children are incredibly costly to their parents, and that society has failed to compensate parents sufficiently for that. 

 

You want more babies? A check for $5000.00 isn’t going to cut it. Pay parents a full time wage for each child, and I bet you could see birth rates rise. Instead, there continues to be this expectation that women will just do unpaid labor and have children society refuses to pay for. 

 

And as far as women’s work, if it was respected, men would do it. Full stop. You want to show respect for childrearing, housework, cooking and cleaning? As a man, go fucking do it. (I have lived this, by the way. I don’t believe in “women’s work” at all. Man up.)

 

In describing the twisted males of Jael’s world, she notes that the men are consumed with a fear of being female, of being dual-natured. She notes that they have essentially shifted the burden of their emotions onto women (and the males they surgically turn into female substitutes). This picture certainly rings true these days, as toxically masculine males retreat further and further into these shells of unhumanity, terrified they might slip up and do a woman thing. 

 

There is a scene where Jael is attempting to do business with one of these men, who keeps posturing and bullying. Her thoughts as she endures:

 

Let it pass. Control yourself. Hand them the victory in the Domination Sweepstakes and they usually forget whatever it is they were going to do anyway. 

 

Um, Trump anyone? 

 

And another great description of fragile masculinity:

 

Those primitive warriors are brave men - that is, they are slaves to the fear of fear - but there are some things they believe every man is entitled to run from in abject terror, viz. Snakes, ghosts, earthquakes, disease, demons, magic, childbirth, menstruation, witches, afreets, incubi, succubi, solar eclipses, reading, writing, good manners, syllogistic reasoning, and what we might generally call the less reliable phenomena of life.  

 

Dang, that’s a savage burn. 

 

Joanna, the author if you will, is torn between her frustration with how horrid most men are, and a desire to connect with them. 

 

At times I am seized by a hopeless, helpless longing for love and reconciliation, a dreadful yearning to be understood, a teary passion for exposing our weaknesses to each other. It seems intolerable that I should go through live thus estranged, keeping it all to my guilty self.

 

If only men would let themselves feel too, and open themselves to a full emotional and human experience. Too few do, to their own detriment. 

 

I also very much loved Joanna’s own desire to be. 

 

Remember: I didn’t and don’t want to be a “feminine” version or a diluted version or a special version or a subsidiary version or an ancillary version or an adapted version of the heroes I admire. I want to be the heroes themselves.

 

I guess I will end with that quote. It is something every strong woman I admire has faced. To be themselves, not a diluted, “feminine” substitute. It is at the end of this passage that Russ mentions Elsie Dinsmore, which is a name you rarely see outside paleo-confederate fundie circles. And yes, my wife knew the books from childhood, and purposed never to be an Elsie. I have to wonder a bit about how popular the books were in the 1940s, when Russ would have been a child. 

 

One final thought: Russ was once criticized for her often harsh book reviews. She broke down the usual lines criticizing her into categories. This one stood out:

 

Don't shove your politics into your reviews. Just review the books. "I will," Russ said, "when authors keep politics out of their books."

 

For a woman writing science fiction, far too many of her male peers failed to write women characters, instead settling for stereotypes. This was a legitimate criticism by Russ, and it was definitely political.

 

I too wrote politics in my blog. I will stop when politics cease to be an integral part of the human experience - which is to say never. All of life is political, whether you notice it or not. 

 

For Russ, the experience of being female was inherently political, and this book reflects it. It is an interesting read, not least for the razor-sharp lectures and creative obliteration of expectations. I have some of her other novels and stories in this collection, and I look forward to reading them. 

 

The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party by Alexander McCall Smith

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

Another trip, another installment of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books. We are now up to number 12 in the series. This one is, interestingly, a bit shorter than the previous few, checking in at less than eight and a half hours in the audio edition. (Which actually fit perfectly where we needed it.) 

As usual, there are several intersecting plots, each with their own moral and emotional implications.

 

The first involves the older apprentice at Mr. J. L. B. Matekoni’s garage, Charlie. Rumor has been going around that Charlie got his girlfriend Prudence (not a good choice of a name…) pregnant with twins, which he has subsequently abandoned. When this is confirmed through a reliable source, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi decide to try to convince Charlie to man up and take responsibility. As it turns out, though, not everything is as it seems. 

 

Second, a cattle rancher hires her after two of his cattle have their tendons cut. He does not wish to go to the police, and, as Mma Ramotswe quickly realizes, nothing about this case is simple. In fact, it is likely that everyone potentially involved is lying, either to cover for themselves, or someone else. 

 

There are two more personal plots, though, as well. Mma Makutsi is going to finally marry her fiance, Phuti Rhadiphuti, the furniture store owner. He has survived his terrible accident, although he lost a foot and is now trying to relearn how to walk - and maybe even dance at his wedding. More harrowing, he survived his controlling aunt in the last book. But there are still obstacles. Mma Makutsi’s greedy uncle, her nearest surviving relative, asks for an absurdly impossible and insulting dowry from Phuti. And, Mma Makutsi has to find the perfect pair of shoes for the wedding, which leads to disaster. 

 

Finally, Mma Ramotswe has been seeing a little white van around town - one that looks just like her old one, sold for scrap two books ago. Is it a ghost? Do vans have ghosts? Or is it the same van, given a new lease on life?

 

Oh, and one final mention: it is barely mentioned in the book, but recurrent villain Violet Sephotho is at it again, this time, running for political office, which would be a disaster. This thread is never entirely resolved, so we do not know how it ends. Maybe in the next book?

 

There are some interesting themes in this book. The main plot, about the cattle rancher, explores the problem of large employers and people wedded to the land. The rancher is new to the area, having saved his wages as a recruiter for the diamond mines and bought some land. 

 

His employees, as he puts it - correctly - “came with the land.” This means expectations, and also opportunities for the wealthy landowner to exploit his employees. Including, in this case, the all too common practice of having a “town wife” and a “country wife.” The landowner fails to understand how his behavior is creating hatred toward him, so he starts to see conspiracies where they do not exist. 

 

Also, when everyone has a motive, no one can be trusted. 

 

The theme of men exploiting women is also explored in the Charlie plot. While the situation is more complicated than Mma Makutsi thinks at first, she isn’t wrong that young (and not young) men often exploit women, humping an dumping, running away from responsibility. 

 

But women too can be problematic, playing men off each other to gain financial reward. 

 

In contrast to all of this are the two central male-female relationships in the book. Mr. J. L. B. Matekoni is straight up the nicest man you can imagine. And, as the series has gone on, he has learned more and more how to respond to Mma Ramotswe’s eccentricities, just as she has learned to respond to his. 

 

Likewise, the Mma Makutsi and Phuti relationship - and they finally do marry in this book - has been a growth process for both of them. They are both good people, but with their own flaws which often lead to unnecessary drama. But you can’t help but be sure that they will always love each other and work things out in the end. 

 

This is ultimately the theme of the series: good thoughtful humans coming to terms with complicated and nuanced relationships and situations, and working through them for the mutual good. And, of course, with the help of a good pot of bush tea! 

 

***

 

For those who want to brush up on the full set of McCall Smith books we have listened to:

 

 #1 Ladies Detective Agency series:

 

The Tears of the Giraffe (#2 in the series)

Morality for Beautiful Girls (#3)

The Kalahari Typing School For Men (#4)

The Full Cupboard of Life (#5)

In the Company of Cheerful Ladies (#6)

Blue Shoes And Happiness (#7)

The Good Husband of Zebra Drive (#8)

The Miracle at Speedy Motors (#9)

Tea Time for the Traditionally Built (#10)

The Double Comfort Safari Club (#11)

 

Sunday Philosophy Club series:

 

The Sunday Philosophy Club

 

Professor Dr. Von Igelfeld series:

 

Portuguese Irregular Verbs

 

Other books:

 

La’s Orchestra Saves the World

 

Making Money by Terry Pratchett

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

Over the years, we have listened to a lot of Terry Pratchett books while on our adventures. You can find the list at the bottom of this post. 

 

Making Money is another in the “industrial revolution” series of Discworld novels. This is the first one I have read with Moist von Lipwig as a central character. I think he is one of Pratchett’s finest characters: the crook gone (inadvertently) straight, retaining the knowledge of one below the law in a way that allows him to see the above the law thievery well. In other words, the kind of people we need more than ever in the Trump Era. 

 

This is apparently the second book involving Mr. Lipwig, the first being Going Postal, which we have not yet listened to. Later industrial revolution books such as Raising Steam refer to Lipwig, without featuring him. 

 

Making Money also features some of the important characters from other books, such as The Truth, and the Watch books, as supporting characters. 

 

So, about Mr. Lipwig. Formerly known as Albert Spangler (also likely an alias), he was born in the vaguely Eastern European Discworld nation of Uberwald (literally a play on words with the same meaning as Transylvania), orphaned, and left to a life of petty crime. He became a successful con man, playing off of other people’s greed and stupidity. 

 

When he was eventually caught by the law, the tyrant Patrician Lord Vetinari noted his many talents (and his equally notable lack of violence in his life of crime), and arrange for his hanging to “accidentally” spare his life - provided he was willing to assume a new one to go with a new identity. 

 

Thus was Moist von Lipwig born, and assigned to the Post Office. Voluntarily, of course - he could also have voluntarily elected suicide had he preferred. That story is the subject of Going Postal. 

 

By the opening of Making Money, Lipwig has, by applying his insider knowledge of the underworld, reformed the postal service. In fact, he has been so successful that his genius idea - the postal stamp - is now functioning as currency in Ankh Morpork, a serious challenge to the official banking system. 

 

Which is owned by old money - the kind of old money where everyone has forgotten the slavery and piracy underlying it. The old money is wedded to the gold standard, and the idea that banking is for rich people. 

 

The problem is, now that the postal service is doing well, Lipwig is bored out of his skull. His main outlet, his girlfriend Adora Belle, is off in foreign parts, working for the Golem Trust. 

 

Vetinari, realizing this, orchestrates things so that Lipwig is forced into a new role in charge (more or less) of the national bank and the national mint. 

 

If you hadn’t figured out already where this is going, well, let me tell you that Pratchett ends up giving the best concise, accurate, perceptive, and also hilarious crash course on how banking and currency actually work in the real world. 

 

Pratchett clearly understands what so few do now and in history: ALL money ever is “fiat currency.” Money is worth something because humans agree it is worth something. Whether the shells and beads of the vast Native American trade networks spanning an entire hemisphere, or the use of gold and silver in the ancient world, all means of exchange have had value because humans agreed they did. 

 

Because you can’t eat gold. 

 

Lipwig realizes this even before he realizes that the old Lavish family who controls the bank has stolen the gold reserves to enrich themselves. (The book was written just before the financial collapse of 2008 - Pratchett had already seen the writing on the wall…) 

 

There is a lot in this book that I don’t want to spoil, but I do want to point out some of the themes, and some of the best stuff in there. 

 

Banking is the most obvious theme, and Pratchett examines both its aspirational best, and its kleptocratic worst. At best, banks allow everyone to put their savings to work, and borrow for their investment needs. 

 

Lipwig is the one with the vision for this democratization of finance, embracing both Harry King (the waste management tycoon shunned by the “best” citizens) and Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, purveyor of questionable yet incredibly popular sausages - who wants to borrow money to expand his business by an additional wheelbarrow. 

 

I will also mention that Pratchett is spot on in this book in his analysis of the obvious injustice in how small-time impoverished crooks are brutally punished while white collar criminals that harm far more humans are considered “legal.” 

 

There is also the Golem subplot, with the question of the “humanity” (or whatever the discworld equivalent is) of Golems - clay creatures programmed with obedience. Which also leads to a discussion of the problem of both outsourcing and technological replacement of artisans. Very on point for our own times, of course. 

 

Oh, and a free Golem who spends too much time reading questionable romance advice, before discovering feminism? And anyway, since Golems do not technically have a sex at all, why are they assumed to be male? (Yeah, Pratchett on gender is always a lot of fun….) 

 

I also have to mention that this book is a serious play on the game of Monopoly. Expect to find all of the classic pieces somewhere - you just have to pay attention. 

 

Oh, and also, by way of warning, the book uses “fornication” in its lesser-known meaning, having to do with architectural arches, not the, um, human ones. And also, vibrating sex toys are a key plot device - this might not be the most kid-friendly Discworld novel. Or, alternatively, it will go over the heads of the kids and the adults can snigger throughout. No, there isn’t any “sex” per se - Pratchett is all about the humor. 

 

As always with Pratchett, there are far too many pithy quotes to fit in one blog post, but I will mention my favorites.

 

They were indeed what was known as 'old money', which meant that it had been made so long ago that the black deeds which had originally filled the coffers were now historically irrelevant. Funny, that: a brigand for a father was something you kept quiet about, but a slave-taking pirate for a great-great-great-grandfather was something to boast of over the port. Time turned the evil bastards into rogues, and rogue was a word with a twinkle in its eye and nothing to be ashamed of. 

 

Seriously. Take a look at how the old rich families got rich. It’s depressing. 

 

It was sad, like those businessmen who came to work in serious clothes but wore colorful ties in a mad, desperate attempt to show there was a free spirit in there somewhere.

 

Hey, now, I feel seen!

 

People don't like change. But make the change fast enough and you go from one type of normal to another.

 

This is in some ways hopeful, but also the most damn depressing line in the book. God, I hate Trump and his racist ghouls. 

 

“But what's worth more than gold?"

 

"Practically everything. You, for example. Gold is heavy. Your weight in gold is not very much gold at all. Aren't you worth more than that?” 

 

Sacharissa looked momentarily flustered, to Moist’s glee. ‘Well, in a manner of speaking—’ ‘

 

The only manner of speaking worth talking about,’ said Moist flatly. ‘The world is full of things worth more than gold. But we dig the damn stuff up and then bury it in a different hole. Where’s the sense in that? What are we, magpies? Is it all about the gleam? Good heavens, potatoes are worth more than gold!’

 

 ‘Surely not!’ 

 

‘If you were shipwrecked on a desert island, what would you prefer, a bag of potatoes or a bag of gold?’ ‘Yes, but a desert island isn’t Ankh-Morpork!’ ‘And that proves gold is only valuable because we agree it is, right? It’s just a dream. But a potato is always worth a potato, anywhere. A knob of butter and a pinch of salt and you’ve got a meal, anywhere. Bury gold in the ground and you’ll be worrying about thieves forever. Bury a potato and in due season you could be looking at a dividend of a thousand per cent.” 

 

This is the problem with understanding wealth as consisting of whatever means of exchange you use, rather than the underlying labor that creates wealth. 

 

“Building a temple didn't mean you believed in gods, it just meant you believed in architecture.” 

 

The bank, in the book, is an old temple. Built with the idea that if the temple was built, a god would occupy it. Which, I suppose, is what happened. The worship of money and gold and capitalism took its seat in the building. 

 

“A banker? Me?"

"Yes, Mr. Lipwig."

"But I don't know anything about running a bank!"

"Good. No preconceived ideas."

"I've robbed banks!"

"Capital! Just reverse your thinking," said Lord Vetinari, beaming. "The money should be on the inside.” 

 

And later:

 

“People who understand banks got it into the position it is in now.”

 

Vetinari is one of the best characters in the Discworld universe, because he is both a tyrant, and yet, the weirdest one ever. He is kind of like the anti-Machiavelli? He is all about soft power most of the time, and embraces progress and freedom and the free press and all kinds of things that should threaten his power…yet they never really do. He is both freaking scary, and yet also weirdly admirable. If one had to have a dictator, he would be the one I’d choose. Although I prefer democracy. 

 

“The Igor position on prayer is that it is nothing more than hope with a beat to it.”

 

Explaining the whole Igor thing would take too much time, but you can read the Discworld Wiki if you like. I’m pretty much with the Igors here. Either prayer is just asking God to like people you care about more than other people, or it is, perhaps, hope with a beat. (If you consider prayer to be a petition rather than just a communion with the Divine…) 

 

It contained herbs and all natural ingredients. But belladonna was an herb, and arsenic was natural. 

 

Insert your favorite alternative “natural” remedy here. 

 

“That is a very graphic analogy which aids understanding wonderfully while being, strictly speaking, wrong in every possible way,” said Ponder.

 

One of my favorite Pratchett lines. True in, well, every possible way. 

 

“I read somewhere that the coin represents a promise to hand over a dollar’s worth of gold,’ said Moist helpfully. Mr. Bent steepled his hands in front of his face and turned his eyes upwards, as though praying. ‘In theory, yes,’ he said after a few moments. ‘I would prefer to say that it is a tacit understanding that we will honour our promise to exchange it for a dollar’s worth of gold provided we are not, in point of fact, asked to.” 

 

Exactly the Gold Standard in action. And also banking in action. The book’s understanding of bank runs is every bit as good as that in It’s A Wonderful Life - another brilliant examination of predatory capitalism. 

 

“I don’t have much time, sir, but fortunately I have a lot of gin.” 

 

 Because the alcoholic old lady is practically a British literary necessity. 

 

The lady in the boardroom was certainly an attractive woman, but since she worked for the Times Moist felt unable to award her total ladylike status. Ladies didn’t fiendishly quote exactly what you said but didn’t exactly mean, or hit you around the ear with unexpectedly difficult questions. Well, come to think of it, they did, quite often, but she got paid for it. 

 

Never, ever, underestimate Sacharissa Crisplock. Just saying. 

 

And I would be remiss in omitting the way a long-dead wizard is pensioned off to a strip club - which, considering said wizard was from the era when a wayward ankle was scandalous…

 

“So? They’re paid to be ogled at,” said Moist. “They are professional oglees. It’s an ogling establishment.”

 

And a final one:

 

“She had the slightly wistful, slightly hungry look that so many women of a certain age wore when they’d decided to trust in gods because of the absolute impossibility of continuing to trust in men.” 

 

As always, Pratchett is one of the underrated authors of our time. He is incredibly hilarious, but beneath the silly puns, the cultural and literary references, the magic and alternative universe, lies a keen eye for satire, and a wise perception of human nature and human foibles. 

 

Oh, and a lot of pundits could learn a thing or sixteen about how currency works, so they could stop blithering about how bitcoin re-writes all the laws of finance. 

 

Every medium of exchange, as Moist von Lipwig understands, rests not on some arbitrary “standard,” whether gold in a vault, an electricity-sucking algorithm, or even ancient golems in a giant pit, but on the full faith and credit of society. 

 

The “dollar” in this book is backed, not by the stolen gold, or the interred golems, but on the city of Ankh Morpork itself. 

 

Just like the American dollar has been the bedrock currency of the world because of the perceived stability of the American government and nation - which is essentially crumbling now due to Trump and the deterioration of American democracy and rule of law. 

 

The moment that confidence fails, the dollar becomes meaningless, and something else will take its place. (God, MAGA people are terminally stupid!) You can’t eat gold, and you can’t eat a dollar dollar bill... 

 

Ultimately, everything rests, not on an arbitrary medium of exchange, but on the underlying value created by humans, the people who create wealth through their effort, their creativity, their ingenuity. The bedrock of value isn’t gold, or golems, but people. 

 

And that, ultimately, is why Moist von Lipwig succeeds: he understands and believes in people. Not that he always trusts them, of course, but that is another reason he succeeds: he can tell when he is being bullshitted, and when he is just dealing with ordinary human behavior. 

 

This is another strength of Pratchett. He gets it. The world would be a far better place with more Pratchetts and a lot fewer Trumps in it. As well as more people who read Pratchett’s books and fewer who worship Trump’s bowel movements tweets. One will lead to a better understanding of reality. And a lot of really funny jokes. The other….not so much.

 

I will always strongly recommend Pratchett’s books as worthwhile reads. Making Money is no exception. 

***

 

The complete Terry Pratchett list:

 

Rincewind:

 

The Colour of Magic

The Light Fantastic

Sourcery

Faust Eric

Unseen Academicals

 

Tiffany Aching:

 

The Wee Free Men

A Hat Full of Sky

Wintersmith

I Shall Wear Midnight

 

Witches:

 

Equal Rites

Wyrd Sisters

Witches Abroad

 

Watch:

 

Guards! Guards! (Stupid abridged edition, which is an abomination unto Nuggan and everyone else.)

 

Industrial Revolution:

 

The Truth

Raising Steam

 

Death:

 

Reaper Man

 

Other Discworld:

 

Small Gods

Monstrous Regiment

 

Non-Discworld:

 

The Carpet People

Dodger

Dragons at Crumbling Castle

Good Omens (with Neil Gaiman)

Nation

 

The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

 

I previously read Rovelli’s better known book, Seven Brief Lessons on Physics, which is a quick and easy to understand look at the physics revolution of the last century. 

The Order of Time is still a short book, but at over 200 pages, it is significantly longer than the other one. It also is more directly connected to the research that Rovelli himself has devoted his life to: Quantum Gravity and Thermal Time. 

 

As with the other book, this one is translated from Italian by Erica Segre and Simon Carnell, who bring the beauty of Rovelli’s prose to life in English. 

 

Based on the previous book, I expected a book that took difficult topics and made them understandable to a lay audience. After all, Rovelli is a great communicator. I was not at all disappointed: this book is definitely that. 

 

But it is more than that. A lot more. From Rovelli’s starting each chapter with a quote from Horace’s Odes, to the liberal references to poetry and literature and philosophy, this book is quite a bit more emotionally moving. It also intersected with metaphysics and theology in ways that I definitely did not expect - and really gave me plenty to think about regarding mortality, human nature, and existence in the world we live in. 

 

I won’t even really try to go into the substantive stuff. Time is, as Doctor Who put it, rather “timey-wimey and wibbly-wobbly.” It isn’t the same everywhere, but moves at different “speeds.” It is dependent on velocity and gravity. At the quantum level, it doesn’t have a direction. It is connected to, well, connections. It is the interactions of spacetime and quantum dimensions that allow us to observe it at all. And it is, well, just really weird. 

 

Rovelli also argues, based on our current understanding of time, that it isn’t some objective passing, or connected to some great cosmic clock. Rather, time is made up of events, occurrences, interactions.

 

We as humans experience time in a certain way, but our ability to do so is limited. It really is our memory and ability to predict the future based on the past that allows us to see time beyond the present moment. 

 

It is this exploration of the subjectivity of time, and the limitations of human experience that sound strikingly like the theological discussions about eternity and human limitations. 

 

Finally, Rovelli makes a compelling case that all existence - all life for certain - is inextricably tied to an increase in entropy. Life is decay, disintegration, entropy. Life simply builds dams delaying the decay one step at a time in order to harness that decay. 

 

If there were no change in entropy, no life could exist. In fact, a static universe like that could never change, could never live in any real sense. 

 

Again, there is no way I can summarize better than Rovelli’s thoroughly delightful writing and lucid explanations. You really should read the book and enjoy for yourself.

 

Let me start out with a few of the poetic things. I could have quoted all of the Horace, for sure, but this was my favorite:

 

Happy

and master of himself

is the man who

for every day of his life can say:

“Today I have lived;

tomorrow if God extends for us

a horizon of dark clouds

or designs a morning

of limpid light,

he will not change our poor past

of events that the fleeting hour

will have assigned to us.”

(III, 29)

 

The author also quotes the Grateful Dead, in a quote that is simply perfect for the discussion he uses it in. 

 

Look out 'cause here comes some free advice

Walk in the sunshine, watch for the bright sun

Be all those things you're able to be

You got to listen to the heavens

You got to try and understand

The greatness of their movement

Is just as small as it is grand

Try not to hurry, it's just not your worry

Leave it to those all caught up in time

You got to deep-six your wristwatch

You got to try and understand

The time it seems to capture is just the movement of its hands

I ain't preachin', 'cause I don't know

How to make fast things move along slow

Can't stop it, can't make it go

Just 'cause I say it, that don't mean that it's so, no, no

 

There is a lot more, but I will leave that to the reader. Oh, and many of his illustrations for time use the Smurfs. He clearly has a great sense of whimsy. 

 

I’ll hit a few highlights from the text itself as well. 

 

First, the book literally starts with a simple fact:

 

Time passes faster in the mountains than it does at sea level.

 

Did you know that? It’s true. The difference is really small, but you can actually measure it with a precision timepiece, available online for a few thousand bucks. 

 

Why, though? Well, gravity affects time. The more gravity, the slower time. Hence why at the event horizon of a black hole, time…stands still. Hence, “event” horizon. Which, well, that’s pretty wild. 

 

This, in addition to the fact that time slows as the observer approaches the speed of light. 

 

Time also isn’t a continuum, even though we humans experience it that way. Rather, like electron energy levels, or photon energy levels, it exists at particular discrete moments. I love how Rovelli explains this.

 

Continuity is only a mathematical technique for approximating very finely grained things. The world is subtly discrete, not continuous. The good Lord has not drawn the world with continuous lines: with a light hand, he has sketched it in dots, like the painter Georges Seurat.

 

I also want to point out this excellent observation, in the passage on the explosion of science surrounding the French Revolution. 

 

Rebellion is perhaps among the deepest roots of science: the refusal to accept the present order of things.

 

If you want to understand why MAGA and the authoritarians they worship are so anti-science, this is why. MAGA is all about returning to a particular order, with women and minorities put firmly back in their place. Science challenges all of that, as well as the religious and political delusions that MAGA uses to support its hierarchical view of the world. 

 

Science seeks absolute truth, not absolute authority. 

 

One of the figures that features early in the book is Leibniz. You may have heard of him. In addition to co-inventing Calculus, he disagreed with Newton about the nature of time. Leibniz actually agreed with the earlier Greek tradition that time is only the order of events, not some autonomous quantity. 

 

What I hadn’t heard previously about him was the legend (which may or may not be true - no one is sure) that Leibniz, whose name was originally Leibnitz, removed the “t” from his name in protest against the Newtonian idea of time, written in equations as “t.” 

 

Another truly mind-blowing idea in this book is that “things” as such, do not exist. While we humans think of the universe as consisting of objects, it really doesn’t, at the quantum level. What we experience as objects are really just the events of interaction between the various grids of dimension. (He explains this a lot better than I do.) By analogy, then:

 

What works instead is thinking about the world as a network of events. Simple events, and more complex events that can be disassembled into combinations of simpler ones. A few examples: a war is not a thing, it’s a sequence of events. A storm is not a thing, it’s a collection of occurrences. A cloud above a mounts is not a thing, it is the condensation of humidity in the air that the wind blows over the mountain. A wave is not a thing, it is a movement of water, and the water that forms it is always different. A family is not a thing, it is a collection of relations, occurrences, feelings. And a human being? Of course it’s not a thing; like the cloud above the mountain, it’s a complex process, where food, information, light, words, and so on enter and exit…A knot of knots in a network of social relations, in a network of chemical processes, in a network of emotions exchanged with its own kind. 

 

And later:

 

We therefore describe the world as it happens, not as it is. Newton’s mechanics, Maxwell’s equations, quantum mechanics, and so on, tell us how events happen, not how things are. We understand biology by studying how living beings evolve and live. We understand psychology (a little, not much) by studying how we interact with each other, how we think…We understand the world in its becoming, not in its being.

 

As you can see, this is right at the intersection of physics (which in this case is fairly well understood) and metaphysics, philosophy, theology even. God is change. 

 

In another amazing passage, Rovelli uses the analogy of descending from a mountain into a foggy valley, for how our limited perception warps how we see and experience the universe. From afar, the fog looks like a well-defined surface, but as you descend, there is not clear dividing line. Likewise, the surface of my desk here at my office sure seems solid enough, but if I could see it at the atomic scale, it would be a fog of electrons. 

 

We see through a glass, dimly, as Saint Paul would have it. And it is even deeper than that. 

 

If we give a description of the world that ignores point of view, that is solely “from the outside” - of space, of time, of a subject - we may be able to say many things but we lose certain crucial aspects of the world. Because the world that we have been given is the world seen from within it, not from without. 

Many things that we see in the world can be understood only if we take into account the role played by point of view. They remain unintelligible if we fail to do so. In every experience, we are situated within the world: within a mind, a brain, a position in space, a moment in time. Our being situated in the world is essential to understanding our experience of time. 

 

Again, very in line with some of the theological ideas that have resonated for me from my childhood. As a friend who was raised Episcopal put it, in her view now, perhaps humans are atoms in God’s body. We see God from the inside, which is why what we see is both incomplete and inseparable from our perspective, our point of view, our vantage point to see. 

 

“In him we live and move and have our being.”

 

I definitely was the most affected, however, by the explanation of the relationship of entropy and time. It is one of the most lucid explanations of the fundamental truth of “life, the universe, and everything” that I have seen. 

 

Death is not separable from life. If we did not die, we could not live. This is not a theological viewpoint, but a simple fact of the universe. Life is decay. Life is death. And life is fleeting and beautiful anyway. 

 

Regarding these chapters, let me start with this. We mislearn some things in school, and one of them is the idea of “energy.” We are taught that living organisms need “energy” to function. This is not true. Otherwise, we could all park ourselves at Death Valley, where there is plenty of energy, and never have to eat again. 

 

Clearly this doesn’t work. 

 

Because what we need is not energy, but sources of low entropy. 

 

Energy - as I was also told at school - is conserved. It is neither created nor destroyed. If it is conserved, why do we have to constantly resupply it? Why can’t we just keep using the same energy?

The truth is that there is plenty of energy and it is not consumed. It’s not energy that the world needs in order to keep going. What it needs is low entropy. 

What makes the world go round are not sources of energy but sources of low entropy. Without low entropy, energy would dilute into uniform heat and the world would go to sleep in a state of thermal equilibrium - there would be no longer any distinction between past and future, and nothing would happen. 

 

Rovelli makes a pretty good case that without changes in entropy, time would not exist. Indeed, time itself consists of changes in entropy. 

 

We are processes, events, composite and limited in space and time. But if we are not an individual entity, what is it that founds our identity and its unity? What makes it so - that I am Carlo - and that my hair and my nails and my feet are considered part of me, as well as my anger and my dreams, and that I consider myself to be the same Carlo as yesterday, the same as tomorrow; the one who thinks, suffers, and perceives? 

 

His answer to this is too long to reproduce here, but it can be summed up as being a point of view, our own perception of ourselves and others as individuals (rather than groups of cells including bacteria that outnumber us), and most importantly, our memory. 

 

This is definitely into the realm of philosophy, metaphysics, and theology. The science can tell us a lot about what, but the why of perception is complex, and not easily reduced to the physics of it all. 

 

I will end with a passage on mortality that I think is just amazing. It really sums up a lot of my own feelings about things. 

 

You can read a bit more about this in my recently posted review of White Noise by Don DeLillo, which is all about the fear of death. 

 

I would not wish to live as if I were immortal. I do not fear death. I fear suffering. And I fear old age, though less now that I am witnessing the tranquil and pleasant old age of my father. I am afraid of frailty, and of the absence of love. But death does not alarm me…I love life, but life is also struggle, suffering, pain. I think of death as akin to a well-earned rest. The sister of sleep, Bach calls it.

 

The Order of Time is pretty mind-blowing in so many ways. But it also is, surprisingly, deeply human. Rovelli’s ability to combine both science and humanity is a great reason I love his writing.