Dear Miss Brontë,

Wuthering Heights

by Emily Brontë

Dear Miss Brontë,

Lady Hamilton as Catherine

I've just re-read your novel Wuthering Heights.  It brought back fond memories and fresh thoughts.

Flipping through only a few pages this time, I was much surprised by how complicated the cultural setting and the vocabulary were. I wondered aloud how I could possibly have gone through it decades ago.

Wuthering Heights was one of the first books I had ever read in English and one of the very few that "possessed" me during reading and long after (looking back now, I think I only had similar mental experience with One Hundred Years of Solitude): haunting, fatalistic and other-worldly. I was probably in my third year in college and my command of English was rudimentary. And I knew nothing of the English culture. Reading original works of literature was like adventures I urged myself onto, as poorly equipped as I was. Even the standard paperbacks looked decidedly strange and foreign, with paper edges colored rusty red, mustard yellow or dirty green: our Chinese books might have been printed on worse papers but they felt "normal". So I do not know how I could have comprehended enough to be enthralled in your book, with its drama and emotional intensity and with images of Catherine and Heathcliff desperately searching each other through the window imprinted in my heart forever. Miss Brontë, the magic you had invested in your writing bridged across the huge gulf of cultural divide.

My reading was quite different this time around. Even though I no longer remembered many details, I was still able to anticipate most of the events, so the thrill was gone. Instead I was able to understand the story and the characters as if for the first time. I've now realized that your book illustrated, with glaring clarity, what first love truly is: the ultimate compulsive and all-consuming action of possessing someone else for one's own intense craving. It's not that much different from hunger, a craving bordering on destruction of the object. Catherine died and Heathcliff became so sinister because their hunger for love was never gratified -- one could say, in essence, they were starved to death. Their case seemed extreme, but in real life, many people suffer in the same way. For example, in traditional societies like China when I grew up, where love was not a factor for people mating for life and where one's emotional development was constrained by strict strict social norms, people tend to be possessive and clutch whatever little they have, heart or body of the one person they have fixed their relentless energy on, forever, just like Heathcliff - it's faithful love on surface but a desperation and arrested growth in truth. Small wonder he became a force of destruction, to himself and others.

A healthier love life was depicted in the younger Cathy, who loved one, out-grew him and went on to love someone else. The latter "love" was more serene and more fitting what "true love" is supposed to be: giving instead of possessing and taking pleasure in the other's happiness. It is a more modern way of how people experience love and emotional growth. And with emotional maturity, people become generous, not only to each other, but also to family and friends. Cathy's story reminded me of my own tumultuous youth and slowly more settled life afterwards. But Miss Brontë, it's startling that you would have had such insight when you wrote the stories in your late twenties, barely an adult nowadays.

With many more years of reading, I couldn't help but also paid attention to your writing techniques. I recognized the so-called "double framing" quickly and was a little skeptical how your could pull it off convincingly with such a nuanced way of story telling. But it worked marvelously. The stories were mostly narrated by a faithful servant, Miss Nelly Dean, who witnessed pretty much everything. She also served the function of providing the conventional moral judgement and justifications for the more incredible actions of the characters. With her, readers are able to hold onto their own moral prejudices but also develop sufficient sympathy to the otherwise rather fatally flawed characters. And she was further supplemented by the more removed and even more critical narrator, Mr. Lockwood. Very clever, Miss Brontë!

Of course it's impossible for any reader not to compare you with Charlotte, or more specifically in my case, comparing Wuthering Heights with Jane Eyre, which I had also re-read in recent years and loved it more. My guess is that avid bookworms would always place Wuthering Heights higher for the sheer reading experience, especially if reading it for the first time. I also think your writing is more sophisticated and merits a thorough psychological analysis: your characters are fundamental, almost like various basic motifs of human traits, like love, hatred, jealousy and loyalty. Jane Eyre, on the other hand, has a charming simplicity and is more worldly.  It won me over in particular with its warm and endearing description of friendships among women, Helen Burns in her youth, and Diana and Mary in later years. Again this is me of older age reading, when romantic love is no longer the focus of my thought and other details in the books suddenly emerged. In short, I love you both and am forever grateful that your books have so much enriched my life.

Miss Brontë, I was inspired to re-read your book and wrote this letter because I just read a lovely one written by a friend's daughter. Wuthering Heights has connected us in such a special way. Thank you!

Warm regards,

lg

the home he knows not

Noa, Noa: the Tahitian Journal

By Paul Gauguin

Harvard art museum

the first half of the book is excellent. one feels that the passion within is so pent-up as being on the verge of exploding. then he found his child wife, and love and peace. passion is delivered as joy and creativity. he settles down, with daily adventures or routines with his Tahitian brothers and sisters. all serene and beautiful. some unquietness and he is back to civilization.

a significant portion of the small journal is a narrative of the Oceanic religion/mythology, which is dry and superfacial, not unlike those read elsewhere.

Gauguin's search for a true life has often been looked upon with conventional suspicion. this writing is like the artist's confession by holding out his heart: look, look here. nobody believes or cares, of course.

Gauguin had to self-publish the journal - below is the kind of wood prints he had intended to accompany the text.

my old post on "the moon and sixpence":

http://passerby100.blogspot.com/2011/11/heavy-handed-portrait-of-artist.html

a quote from Maugham's book (brought up by net friend lyz23):

 I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deeprooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.

狐狸看世界

《信号与噪音：为什么很多预测都不成功，但有的却很准》

作者：纳特·西尔弗

数独是非常流行的数字游戏。其拼图为一个九宫格（3格宽×3格高）的正方形，每一格又细分为一个小九宫格。游戏规则很简单：以个别格子里已给出的数字为线索，通过简单或稍微复杂的逻辑思考，填满其余的格子，使得每一个小九宫格、大九宫格的每一列和每一行的数字都是1至9。 因为数字排列方式千变万化，每个具体游戏的难易程度相差很大；但玩过的人都知道，一个稳操胜卷的办法是猜测，即在一个格子中可能的数字里随机先选一个试。比如某个空格既可能是3也可能是5时，先假设3是对的，一气填下去，50%的情况下，答案已经找到了；如果接下来出现了矛盾，则知道5是对的，回头重新填一遍就是了。令人好奇的是，我发现，虽然这个“猜测法”所向无敌，玩熟了以后，却会尽量避免之，而选择用逻辑推理，准确无误地分析出每格的数字。细究起来，大概因为“猜测法”不具美感（九宫格被涂得乱糟糟的），也无挑战性，缺乏那种沉思冥想后豁然开朗、峰回路转的体验。

这跟讨论《信号与噪音》这本书有什么关系呢？

《信号与噪音》是一本关于如何在大量的数据（噪音）中发现信号，“预测未来”的书，于2012年9月出版后，立刻成为纽约时报的畅销书，同年度被亚马逊网购书店评为非小说类第一，并被翻译成多种文字，包括两个汉语版本。

作者西尔弗是芝加哥大学经济学专业2000年的毕业生，但对自己在毕马威国际会计事务所的经济咨询师一职毫无热情。他利用上班空隙及业余时间设计了一套评估美国职业棒球球员未来潜力的概率统计法，获得意外成功，随后辞掉工作，有几年主要靠网上玩牌赌钱维持生计。2007年起，他开始用类似的方法对美国选举中的各种民意调查数据进行统计分析，并建立了一个名为“538”的网站，公布自己的预测结果（网站名字源于美国大选中选举人团的总票数）。在2008年的美国总统大选中，西尔弗预测对了50个州中49个州的投票结果，一举成名。2010年，“538”被《纽约时报》网站收购，西尔弗成为《纽约时报》的政治事务统计师和评论员。在2012年大选期间，“538”提供了《纽约时报》三分之一的访问流量，他的50州投票结果的预测最后是完胜。2014年起，“538”入盟美国最大的体育网站ESPN，西尔弗把自己的预测方法进一步推广到了政治、体育以及娱乐领域（比如奥斯卡得奖预测）。

借“十五分钟名气”的东风，西尔弗写成了《信号与噪音》一书，把自己成功的预测经验和理念介绍给大众。但这本书不是成功励志之作；作者试图从统计学的角度分析为什么大多数预测都归于失败；预测的基本规律是什么，我们该如何把握。

此书的时效性不言而喻。我们生活在所谓的“大数据”时代，信息量爆炸。但如何把信息转化成知识，如何利用知识改善社会和人类自身，却似乎变得越来越不确定。作者推测，一个主要原因在于，进化的结果，人类特别善于从有限的信息中最快地找到规律，并根据这样的规律指导行为。所谓从有限信息中找规律，借一个朋友常用的简单寓言就是，公鸡每天日出而起，发现地上出现米粒，吃饱后开始一天的悠闲生活。日复一日，它就会把日出与早餐挂钩，直到某一天，日出刀落，成为主人的盘中餐。显然不管过去的经历多么精确完美，能够预测的，只是将来的一种可能性，而非必然。西尔弗在书里举了些类似的例子，表明这是人类预测本能的一个必然局限。如今信息量爆炸，找到完美精确的“规律”的机会不是减少，而是极大地增加了，人们自然更容易把假象当真理。所以大数据时代，变成了更无据可依的动荡时代。

作者以实例为证。第一到三章，介绍了美国2008年的房贷危机、棒球选秀及美国政选。这些章节主要关注三个问题：主观偏见，即人常常会去寻找自己愿意相信的“信号”；过去经历的局限性；市场竞争对预测准确性的正负影响。第四到七章介绍所谓的动态系统，天气预报、地震预测、自由市场以及传染病的传播。这些章节强调，因为系统本身的复杂多变，我们对其机理认识有限所造成的预测困难。其中天气预报作为比较成功的例子，说明气象知识的积累加上计算机处理数据能力的提高，极大地提高预测能力是可能的。第八到十章介绍了如何预测球类比赛结果、如何赌扑克牌及国际象棋。这些活动因为规则固定规模有限，相对于前面章节的问题而言比较简单，作者借机介绍了他所推崇的贝叶斯统计学方法，及如何依据这个方法提高预测能力。有了这个基本武器，作者接下来引导大家尝试解决动态复杂的现实问题，那就是本书的最后三章：全球变暖、恐怖主义及泡沫市场。结语是对贝叶斯原理的理念性总结。

每个章节是相对独立的小故事，文字简单流畅，可读性极强。即使看似无趣的话题，也很容易读进去，并获得一个大致的理解。西尔弗当然不是所叙述的绝大多数问题的专家，人也年轻，算不上资深学者；他是通过大量的阅读思考，以及在四年中采访各路专家，博采众议而写成此书的。虽然浅尝辄止，但他有自己的切入点；这本书总的说来信息广、脉路清楚、表达准确。读者可以再根据自己的兴趣，更深入地追踪不同的话题。由于该书这个外行看内行的特点，阅读时我偶尔会联想到幽默游记作家比尔·布莱森（bill bryson）写的《万物简史》（A Very Brief History of Everything），虽然表面上看来，这是两本完全不同的书。同理，这些问题的真正专家对此书会不以为然。

说到博采众议，书中反复引用的“刺猬与狐狸”的说法，源自英国哲学家以赛亚·伯林（Isaiah Berlin）对古希腊残诗里的“狐狸知道很多事，但刺猬只知道一件大事”的著名发挥。这个说法意味深长，而且很容易领悟，读者会不由自主地自我审视、自我定位。西尔弗显然对“狐狸”情有独钟，“538”网站的徽标就是狐狸。

狐狸怎样看世界呢？西尔弗的狐狸用的是贝叶斯定理（Bayes' theorem）。十八世纪英国数学家托马斯·贝叶斯（Thomas Bayes）提出来的这个定理，是一种基于概率的思考方式。它的前提是人接受自己对未来的预测不可能完全准确，带有一定程度的主观性和错误，然后用新的事实证据不断地去测试并调整自己的判断，如此一点点地接近事实。去年九月《纽约时报》科技专栏作家费伊·弗洛姆著文，以蒙提霍尔问题（Monty Hall problem）为例深入浅出地介绍了贝叶斯法的原理：

以“让我们来做一笔交易！”的节目主持人蒙提·霍尔（Monty Hall）命名的三门问题是这样的：参赛者看见三扇关闭的门，其中一扇的后面是一辆汽车，如果选中那扇门就可赢得汽车，另外两扇门后面则各藏有一只山羊。参赛者选定了一扇门后，霍尔开启剩下两扇门的其中一扇，露出一只山羊，然后会问参赛者要不要换选另一扇仍然关着的门？

这里，“起始的主观判断”是猜对有车那扇门的概率：三分之一；“新的事实”是主持人打开了第二扇门。应用贝叶斯法，就能够算出换一扇门是否能够增加赢车的概率（答案是应该换）。

贝叶斯定理的理论构架符合人类循序渐进的认知规律；具体到实践中，则有一个直观的量化公式用以计算。贝叶斯统计法为人诟病之处在于它要求一个起始的“主观判断”，显得不够客观中立，因此现代科研中使用的标准统计学原理是所谓的频率法，即完全通过随机频率来计算概率。近年来，由于发现绝大多数的科学结论无法重复，实质上是把噪音误作了信号，人们开始质疑频率法的有效性或客观性，最近甚至有期刊禁止其使用。西尔弗认定产生这么多假信号（false positives）的原因就是因为科学家不按照贝叶斯法分析问题。实际情况当然没有这么简单，毕竟统计分析只是任何科研课题的一个方面，沿袭既定理论进行推导也是非常标准的实践；但了解贝叶斯法的原理并有意识地加以应用，应该对科研工作有所帮助。

另一方面，虽然贝叶斯法有起始的主观判断，但并不执着于它的正确性，而是通过新的事实或数据不断地修正它；修正后的判断又成为新的“起始判断”，如此周而复之。换句话说，使用贝叶斯法的人不会守护一个坚定不移的“信仰”。这就是为什么西尔弗自我定位是“知道很多事的狐狸”。在跟朋友讨论时，我意识到“刺猬型”的读者本能地会对此书嗤之以鼻。表面上作者仅仅是在介绍一种简单直观的统计学方法或思考方式，但这个方法的实质，是一种基于现实的理性思考与取舍，而这似乎涉及到人生哲理中一些更高深的东西。

这就回到本文开头的数独解题方式。“猜测法”运用的其实就是一种类似的简单原理，即用数据去测试自己的预测，然后不断修改预测而找出正确答案。这种办法所向无敌，可以解答所有的数独，而且不费心力。但如前所述，它缺乏挑战性，也不具美感，真正热爱数独的人会尽量避免应用。从这个微不足道的领悟推而广之，就能猜出“刺猬哲学”的吸引力。刺猬们的内心有自上而下的主导，生命有意义有目标；眼里的世界井然有序，而不是一团乱麻、骰子乱飞。因此，从最高层面上看，“狐狸哲学”是空洞的、功利性的；即使如西尔弗所言，他的囊中绝技能够更好地解答日常生活中大大小小的问题，却更凸显其琐碎小气的特征，而刺猬们是不看重这些的。

狐狸怎么回答呢？它会说，这样的人生哲学自有其壮美之处。面对强大无情的自然，无助的人类，就是借助这一丁点认知能力，从一个卑微的开始，试验纠错，纠错试验，创造出了一片属于自己的天地（人类文明）。事实上，这个哲学太成功了，人类面临的挑战已经变成了如何约束自身，如何善待自然。

这似乎有点离题万里，但贝叶斯当初发展他的理论时，恰恰就是为了解答哲学问题。所以，这本书至少可以从两个层面读，学习各个章节的大大小小问题，增长知识，把握预测的基本原理，并期望在实际生活中运用之；在这些实际问题的尘嚣之中，发现哲理，做一些自省和思考。

1. F. Flam: Odds, Continually Updated. http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/30/science/the-odds-continually-updated.html?_r=2

A world view according to a fox

The Signal and the Noise: Why Many Forecasts Fail - and Some Don't

by Nate Silver

it's actually a pretty entertaining book despite an apparently technical topic. some scientific training might be required to appreciate it however.


i was more taken by the philosophical views the author endorsed, like Berlin's hedgehog vs. fox and the Bayes' theorem. The book brought out a heightened understanding of things I had known all along, but only vaguely. it's like learning of a foxy fellowship for the first time while being a fox all life long.


Quotes：

Human beings do not have very many natural defenses. We are not all that fast, and we are not all that strong. We do not have claws or fangs or body armor We cannot spit venom. We cannot camouflage ourselves. And we cannot fly. Instead, we survive by means of our wits. Our minds are quick. We are wired to detect patterns and respond to opportunities and threats without much hesitation. p12

The problem, Poggio says, is that these evolutionary instincts sometimes lead us to see patterns when there are none there. “People have been doing that all the time,” Poggio said. “Finding patterns in random noise." p12

But this book is emphatically against the nihilistic viewpoint that there is no objective truth. It asserts, rather, that a belief in the objective truth— and a commitment to pursuing it— is the first prerequisite of making better predictions. The forecaster’s next commitment is to realize that she perceives it imperfectly. p14

"Every hedgehog fantasizes that they will make a daring, audacious, outside- the- box prediction— one that differs radically from the consensus view on a subject." p66

the Laplace demon: We may regard the present state of the universe as the effect of its past and the cause of its future. An intellect which at a certain moment would know all forces that set nature in motion, and all positions of all items of which nature is composed, if this intellect were also vast enough to submit these data to analysis, it would embrace in a single formula the movements of the greatest bodies of the universe and those of the tiniest atom; for such an intellect nothing would be uncertain and the future just like the past would be present before its eyes. p112

Meanwhile, the same tectonic forces that carve fault lines beneath the earth’s surface also carve breathtaking mountains, fertile valleys, and handsome coastlines. What that means is that people will probably never stop living in them, despite the seismic danger. p173 

“You do not need to understand all the intricacies of the economy to accurately read those gauges.” This kind of statement is becoming more common in the age of Big Data. Who needs theory when you have so much information? p196

But as was the case in other fields, like earthquake forecasting during that time period, improved technology did not cover for the lack of theoretical understanding about the economy; it only gave economists faster and more elaborate ways to mistake noise for a signal. Promising- seeming models failed badly at some point or another and were consigned to the dustbin. p198

the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 was a major spark for the development of secular philosophy. p154

But the number of meaningful relationships in the data— those that speak to causality rather than correlation and testify to how the world really works— is orders of magnitude smaller. Nor is it likely to be increasing at nearly so fast a rate as the information itself; there isn’t any more truth in the world than there was before the Internet or the printing press. Most of the data is just noise, as most of the universe is filled with empty space. p249

that strong. We do not have claws or fangs or body armor. We cannot spit venom. We cannot camouflage ourselves. And we cannot fly. Instead, we survive by means of our wits. Our minds are quick. We are wired to detect patterns and respond to opportunities and threats without much hesitation. p12

The charm of pure curiosity: The Voyage of the Beagle

the Voyage of the Beagle
by Charles Darwin

I was hooked on the book before I could decide whether to read it or not. travelogue had never been my choice of genre; and two books by Darwin were plenty (the origin of species; the descend of man). but "the voyage" was no ordinary travelogue. it was written by a young Darwin unburdened by anything mundane and equipped with everything exquisite for an extraordinary, easily one of the most famous natural explorations. not yet the iconic sage, the twenty-one years old had keen eyes, high spirit, insatiable curiosity and already very broad knowledge in geology, biology, human cultures and history. externally, he was not in want of money, could have as many helping hands from Captain on down on Beagle and seemed to have carried recommendation letters wherever he went. so the only thing for him to do was to keep observing and learning - anything and everything - that caught his attention.

1. The wonder and joy of nature

"One day, at Bahia, my attention was drawn by observing many spiders, cockroaches, and other insects, rushing in the greatest agitation across a bare piece of ground. A little way behind, every stalk and leaf was blackened by a small ant. The swarm having crossed the bare space, divided itself, and descended an old way. By this means many insects were fairly enclosed; and the efforts which the poor creatures made to extricate themselves from such a death were wonderful." Loc716

"That they (guanacos) are curious is certain; for if a person lies on the ground, and plays strange antics, such as throwing up his feet in the air, they will almost always approach by degrees to reconnoiter him." - Loc 2957

on the incredibly obnoxious Zorillo (a kind of skunk):
"Certain it is, that every animal most willingly makes room for the Zorillo." Loc 1489

"It is a curious fact that the horses have never left the eastern end of the island, although there is no natural boundary to prevent them from roaming, and that part of the island is not more tempting than the rest." - Loc 3376

"the tortoises from James Island are rounder, blacker, and have a better taste when cooked." - Loc 6831

"The surface appears from a distance as if clothed with coarse pasture, but this in truth is nothing but fern." - Loc 7222

"a crab and a cocoa-nut tree." - Loc 8001

3. Darwin can be humorous;

I used to think that the carrion vultures, man's constant attendants on these dreary plains, while seated on the little neighboring cliffs, seemed by their very patience to say, "Ah! when the Indians come we shall have a feast." - Loc2037

"It really requires little imagination to believe that the bird (el Turco, Megapodius Pteroptochos) is ashamed of itself, an it aware of its most ridiculous figure." - Loc 4748 (picture on the right)

"The inhabitants all recommend onions for the puna; as this vegetable has sometimes been given in Europe for pectoral complaints, it may possibly be of real service: -- for my part I found nothing so good as the fossil shells!" - Loc 5618

"Look at those heretics, they do not even get out of their beds!" - Loc 5971

"These lizards, when cooked, yield a white meat, which is liked by those whose stomaches soar above all prejudices." - Loc 6749

something he couldn't care less:
"The next day I obtained lodgings within a stone's throw of Napoleon's tomb;" - Loc 8361

3. Darwin observes and thinks aloud;

"This close agreement in structure and habits, in representative species coming from opposite quarters of a great continent, always strikes one as interesting, though of common occurrence." - Loc1020

"As these circumstances, apparently so trifling, occur in two distant continents, we may feel sure that they are the necessary results of common causes. - Loc 1262


that large animals require a luxuriant vegetation, has been a general assumption which has passed from one work to another; but I do not hesitate to say that it is completely false, and that it has vitiated the reasoning of geologists on some points of great interest in the ancient history of the world." - Loc 1562

commenting on any kind of monument up high:
"The desire to signalize any event, on the highest point of the neighboring land, seems a universal passion with mankind." Loc 904



Scarcely anything which travelers have written about its extreme flatness can be considered as exaggeration. Yet I could never find a spot where, by slowly turning round, objects were not seen at greater distances in some directions than in others; and this manifestly proves inequality in the plain." Loc 2276 

"The evidence of rarity preceding extinction is more striking in the successive tertiary strata, as remarked by several able observers; it has often been found that a shell very common in a tertiary stratum is now most rare, and has even long been thought to be extinct" - Loc 3113

"No fallacy is more common with naturalists, than that the numbers of an individual species depdend on its powers of propagation." - Loc 3552

"Seeing this gradation and diversity of structure in one small, intimately related group of birds, one might really fancy that from an original paucity of birds in this archipelago, one species had been taken and modified for different ends - Loc 6584

“It was most striking to be surrounded by new birds, new reptiles, new shells, new insects, new plants, and yet by innumerable trifling details of structure, and even by the tones of voice and plumage of the birds, to have the temperate plains of Patagonia, or the hot dry deserts of Northern Chile, vividly brought before my eyes." - Loc 6812

"I formerly imagined that Australia would rise to be as grand and powerful a country as North America, but now it appears to me that such future grandeur is rather problematical." - Loc 7693

"Farewell, Australia! you are a rising child, and doubtless some day will reign a great princess in the South; but you are too great and ambitious for affection, yet not great enough for respect. I leave your shores without sorrow or regret." - Loc 7799

4. Darwin puts things into perspective;

"The day has past delightfully. Delight itself, however, is a weak term to express the feelings of a naturalist who, for the first time, has wandered by himself in a Brazilian forest." - Loc 329

The island would be generally considered as very uninteresting, but to any one accustomed only to an English landscape, the novel aspect of an utterly sterile land possesses a grandeur which more vegetation might spoil.- Loc 167


"It is easy to specific the individual objects of admiration in these grand scenes; but it is not possible to give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, astonishment, and devotion, which fill and elevate the mind." - Loc 563

"In England any person fond of natural history enjoys in his walks a great advantage, by always having something to attract his attention; but in these fertile climates, teeming with life, the attractions are so numerous, that he is scarcely able to walk at all. - Loc572

"Yet in passing over these scenes, without one bright object near, an ill-defined but strong sense of pleasure is vividly excited. One asked how many ages the plain had thus lasted, and how many more it was doomed thus to continue 
None can reply - all seems eternal now.
The wilderness has a mysterious tongue,
Which teaches awful doubt. - Loc2992"

"Certainly, no fact in the long history of the world is so startling as the wide and repeated exterminations of its inhabitants." - Loc 3097

"There is an inexpressible charm in thus living in the open air." - Loc 4517

"everyone must know the feeling of triumph and pride which a grand view from a height communicates to the mind." - Loc 4942

"The limit of man's knowledge in any subject possesses a high interest, which is perhaps increased by its close neighborhood to the realms of imagination." - Loc 4969

“It is a bitter and humiliating thing to see works, which have cost man so much time and labor, overthrown in one minute; yet compassion for the inhabitants was almost instantly banished, by the surprise in seeing a slate of things produced in a moment of time, which one was accustomed to attribute to a succession of ages. In my opinion, we have scarcely behold, since leaving England, any sight so deeply interesting." - Loc 5391

"Hence, both in space and time, we seem to be brought somewhat near to that great fact -- that mystery of mysteries -- the first appearance of new beings on this earth." - Loc 6555

"These low hollow corral islands bear no proportion to the vast ocean out of which they abruptly rise; and it seems wonderful that such weak invaders are not overwhelmed by the all-powerful and never-tiring waves of that great sea, miscalled the Pacific." - Loc 6976

"However seldom the usefulness of an object can account for the pleasure of beholding it, in the case of these beautiful woods, the knowledge of their high productiveness no doubt enters largely into the feeling of admiration." - Loc 6994

"but it is as difficult not to form some opinion, as it is to form a correct judgement." - Loc 7671


"It has been said that the love of the chase is an inherent delight in man -- a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, I am sure the pleasure of living in the open air, with the sky for a roof and the ground for a table, is part of the same feeling; it is the savage returning to his wild and native habits." - Loc 8674

On creation of coral islands:
"We feel surprise when travelers tell us of the vast dimensions of the Pyramids and other great ruins, but how utterly insignificant are the greatest of these, when compared to these mountains of stone accumulated by the agency of various minute and tender animals! This is a wonder which does not at first strike the eye of the body, but after reflection, the eye of reason." - Loc 8043

where on the face of the earth can we find a spot on which close investigation will not discover signs of that endless cycle of change, to which this earth has been, is and will be subjected?" - Loc 8509






5. Darwin holds very strong moral indignation against slavery;

As long as the idea of slavery could be banished, there was something exceedingly fascinating in this simple and patriarchal style of living: it was such a perfect retirement and independent from the rest of world. - Loc 524

Darwin recounted his encounter with a slave, who mistook his excited gesture in conversation as an attempt to hit him and submitted immediately with fear:
"This man had been trained to a degradation lower than the slavery of the most helpless animal." Loc 550

"I did not anywhere meet a more civil and obliging man than this negro; it was therefore the more painful to see that he would not sit down and eat with us." - Loc 1411

"the brightest tints on the surrounding woods could not make me forget that forty hardened, profligate men were ceasing from their daily labors, like the slaves from Africa, yet without their holy claim for compassion." - Loc 7621

"I thank God, I shall never again visit a slave-country." - Loc 8579

"It makes one's blood boil, yet heart tremble, to think that we Englishmen and our American descendants, with their boastful cry of liberty, have been and are so guilty; but t is a consolation to reflect, that we at least have made a greater sacrifice than ever made by any nation, to expiate our sin." - Loc 8605

5. Darwin has many curious and often contradicting comments on "salvage people and cultures"


It was without exception the most curious and interesting spectacle I ever beheld: I could not have believed how wide was the difference between savage and civilized man: it is greater than between a wild and domesticated animal, inasmuch as in man there is a greater power of improvement." - Loc 9806

Fuegians all had far greater eyesight, thus Jemmy Button would taunt the officer who displeased him with:
"Me see ship, me no tell." - Loc 9806

"Nature by making habit omnipotent, and its effects hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian to the climate and the productions of his miserable country." - Loc 3803

"and they are half civilized, and proportionally demoralized." - Loc 4068

"And it is only because we are poor Indians, and know nothing; but it was not so when we had king." - Loc 5173

"There is also something very attractive in the simplicity and humble politeness of the poor inhabitants." - Loc 5200

"This independence of manners is probably a consequence of their long wars, and the repeated victories which they alone, of all the tribes in America have gained over the Spaniards." - Loc 5247

"I was pleased with nothing so much as with the inhabitants (Tahitians)." - Loc 6996

"It has been remarked that it requires little habit to make a dark skin more pleasing and natural to the eye of a European than his own color. A white man bathing by the side of a Tahitian was like a plant bleached by the gardener's art compared with a fine dark green one growing vigorously in the open fields." - Loc 6999

"We had a farewell view of the mountains of Tahiti -- the island to which every voyager has offered up his tribute of admiration." - Loc 7211

"The thoughtless aboriginal, blinded by these trifling advantages, is delighted at the approach of the white man, who seems predestined to inherit the country of his children." - Loc 7629

6. Darwin is critical of human ignorance and self deceit.


Commenting on a slave owner, who was otherwise a very kind man, he said
"It may be said there exists no limit to the blindness of interest and selfish habit." - Loc 545

"Every one here is fully convinced that this is the most just war, because it is against barvarians. Who would believe in this age that such atrocities could be committed in a Christian civiized country" - Loc 1874

"It struck me as rather characteristic, that this man should prefer his countrymen being thought the worst of traitors, rather than unskillful or cowardly." - Loc 2495

"Animals are so abundant in these countries, that humanity and self-interest are not closely united; therefore I fear it is that the former is here scarcely known." - Loc 2711


7. Darwin firmly on the other side;

"...one old woman, who, sooner than again be led into slavery, dashed herself to pieces from the summit of the mountain. In a Roman matron this would have been called the noble love of freedom; in a poor negress it is mere brutal obstinacy." Loc 459

"The old indian father and his son escapted, and were free. What a fine picture one can form in one' mind, -- the naed, bronze-like figure of the old man with his little boy, riding like a Mazeppa on the white horse, thus leaving far behind hi the host of his pursuers!" - Loc 1911

"The Sierra Ventana was formerly a great place of resort; and three or four years ago there was much fighting there. My guide had been present when many Indians were killed: the women escaped to the op of the ridge, and fought most desperately with great stones; many thus saving themselves." - Loc 1993


"We saw in the shops many articles, such as horsecloths, belts, and garters, woven by the Indian women. The patterns were very pretty, and the colors brilliant: the workmanship of the garters was so good that an English merchant at Buenos Ayres maintained they must have been maufactured in England, till he found the tassels had been fastened by split sinew." - Loc 2128

"Wherever the Europeans has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal." - Loc 7512

"The varieties of man seem to act on each other in the same way as different species of animals -- the stronger always extirpating the weaker." - Loc 7515


10. His British pride;

How different would have been the aspect of this river if English colonists had by good fortune first sailed up the Plata! What noble towns would now have occupied its shores!" - Loc 2501

That country will have to learn, like every other South American state, that a republic cannot succeed till it contains a certain body of men imbued with the principles of justice and honor." - Loc 2503

"The meridian of the Antipodes has likewise been passed; and now every league, it made us happy to think, was one league nearer to England. These Antipodes call to one's mind old recollections of childish doubt and wonder Only the other day I looked forward to this airy barrier as a definite point in our voyage homewards; but now I find it ad all such resting-places for the imagination, are like shadows, which a man moving onwards cannot catch. A gale of wind lasting for some days has lately given us full leisure to measure the future stages in our homeward voyage, and to wish most earnestly for its termination." - Loc 7217

"My first feeling was to congratulate myself that I was born an Englishman." - Loc 7462

"To hoist the British flag seems to draw with it as a certain consequence wealth, prosperity, and civilization." - Loc 8690

时势造人：读《孤独的大众》（The lonely crowd)

The Lonely Crowd

by David Riesman
with Nathan Glazer
and Reuel Tenney

多年前访问丘吉尔故居时，第一次读到他的这句话：First we shape the buildings; afterwards the buildings shape us。咋一想，有道理啊，社会与人的互动关系，何尝不是如此？！社会是人建立起来的，反过来又规范限制人的行为。 但认真追究起来，从哇哇坠地到盖棺论定，人何曾有过独立于社会的存在？ 社会虽然是一群人的总和，并会随着时代和组成的个体的变化而变，但它也具有超越个体的力量和稳定性。 事实上，远距离观察人类社会的进化和变迁，个人的天性，努力和野心，实在是微不足道的。就是说，丘吉尔名言的后半句更反映人生的本质：个人总是被社会造型。

《孤独的大众》就是用这样的大手笔来描述社会与个人的关系的。 首版于1950年，该书是社会学家大卫理斯曼和同事合著的社会学专著。出乎作者预料的是，《孤独的大众》很快成为大众畅销书，对美国社会产生了长久而深远的影响。朋友最近推荐给我时，《孤独的大众》已经发行了六十多年，而其主要观点，在今天仍然没有过时。


影响深远的一大因素，是该书对不同社会中人的概括非常简单清晰。作者把一个特定社会的人的代表性特点称为社会性格 （social character），其含义对应于讨论个人时所用的个性（personality）一词。 在理斯曼眼里，人类漫长的历史中其实只存在过三种社会三种人。世界上绝大多数的国家在绝大多数的时代都由“传统导向”（tradition-directed）的人组成；西方从文艺复兴到工业革命这个历史大变换阶段，出现了所谓的“内心导向”（inner-directed）的人；而现代消费社会则以“他人导向”（other-directed）者为主。换个角度理解“社会性格”，作者是把三种社会的最基本特征拟人化了。

为什么一个社会与其组成的人之间似乎有一种相辅相成的关系？人的社会性格是怎样形成的？ 作者认为童年的成长环境和教育是关键：社会性格是父母，老师，玩伴或同学，以及“媒介”共同作用的产物。 

传统导向的形成。传统社会的生活相对简单，生活的主要目标即生存。社会的基本单元是大家庭，在一个屋檐下，长辈言传身教，兄弟姐妹大的带小的。孩子被作为劳力来生养，长大后继承父母的“职业”。 壁炉边上听老人“讲过去的故事”，听《小红帽和狼外婆》这样的，寓教于乐的童话，就完成了基本的伦理和文化教育。这样的社会里，人的自我意识不强，想像力和创造性有限。

内心导向的形成。到了西方扩张的时代，人们的活动不再局限于“一亩三分地”，社会分工也开始复杂化和专业化。 这种情形下，父母能教导孩子的，只局限于基本的信仰，伦理和原则。这些观念成为孩子将来出去闯荡的内在参照系。条件好一些的家庭把孩子送到学校，但那时的老师能力和视野都有限，不过授予学生一些基本的知识和教条。另一方面，书籍和报界的影响变得越来越大，孩子主要是从书里找到超出父母和近邻的新思想和行为榜样：鲁滨逊，华盛顿，爱迪生。。。内心导向的人有较大的自由空间，比较能够承受孤独。 他们为个人理想奋斗，有成名成家的强烈欲望。 如果从政的话，他们的政治观点往往与个人信仰一致，充满激情但缺乏个人魅力。

他人导向的形成。 到了物质丰富的消费时代，官僚机构开始成型并完善，人际关系变得比个人能力更重要。 竞争更多地表现在商品的性能和品牌的差异上：从前是有车和无车的鸿沟，现在却是美国车和外国车的区别，或宝马和丰田的区别。 父母跟不上这些日新月异和微妙的知识更新，对培养自己的子女缺乏信心，教育中心和权力转移到了学校和老师；孩子从小就被集中在一起，并按照年龄分级教育，从而成为彼此的参照物和榜样 （peer group)；孩子反过来为父母提供新知识和观念，进一步消蚀其权威。 新的大众媒介广播和电视走进了家庭，逐渐成为大众的道德，审美和品味的最高指导。他人导向的人知识丰富，视野宽阔，心态复杂宽容，观念入时多变。政治领袖是明星型，谈吐见识超人，但不执着于个人理念。 

《孤独的大众》侧重于分析美国社会的变迁：内心导向如何逐渐地，不可避免地被他人导向所替代。作者并进而表达了对现代人可能因此慢慢地失去自主和自由的担忧。 这大概又是此书畅销的另一个原因：按理斯曼的观点，他人导向人群最大的心理困扰就是焦虑（anxiety），恰恰与该书本身的情绪合拍。（传统导向最大的心理困扰是羞辱（shame)，内心导向则是罪过（guilty）。） 

失去自主和自由是针对个人而言。 现代生活中，个人空间越来越小，工作变得太重要，工作与业余生活不能清楚地划分开。。。 从整体看，他人导向也导致权力旁落或没有着落。 一个官僚机构的领导既要讨好下属又要获得同僚的共识，还得与同行业的其它公司沟通，还要听取消费者团体的意见和抱怨，并受政府的制约，而政府的官员又被利益各异的游说群体左右。最终，似乎人人都被empowered，但谁也没有权力。


作者分析他人导向的形成，侧重于人际关系的互动，广告和媒介的引导，并没有提到科学的作用。 但科学的发展，直接导致人不得不放弃主观直觉的判断方式而接受“客观真理”，不管后者多么counter-intuitive。 再进一步，科学变得越来越高深复杂，非经过数十年正规训练的专家不能涉足或理解新的“科学事实”，到此，普通人其实没有选择，只能听从专家意见而成为名副其实的他人导向；这种情况下坚持内心导向只能显得无知和固执 -- 这些现象在关于进化论，转基因或全球变暖的争论中一览无余。

书中提到当年的英国从传统社会转型到扩张时代的困难和巨大代价。但对西方强国来说，这变化至少是主动的，渐行的，以他人的更大代价为基础的。 绝大多数国家，如中国和印度，经历的是“被现代化”的惨烈过程，它们的社会性格又发生了怎样的变化，谁能预测将来是什么？

《孤独的大众》最后一部分试图为现代人指点迷津，提到乌托邦，提出了“自主”（autonomy）的概念 - 一种综合内心导向的独立自主和他人导向的宽容合群的优点的新型人，但对这类人的描述和产生语焉不详。 书中仅以诗人William Carlos William等为例，提倡不把工作当成个人identity的重心 - 工作的目的是为了生计 - 而要把激情和时间花在自己的爱好上。 我因此联想到网络的出现，倒是为这样的生活这样的人的产生提供了真正的可能性。 人们不再局限于传统的生活圈子 （家庭，小学，中学，大学同学，同事），而可以根据自己的性格爱好信仰找到朋友，网友，合作者，读者，写手，like-minded。。。无形之中，注意力的重心已经转移，而且多多少少是根据自己的“导向”。 

或许，从此以往我们真能重新打造这个世界 - 至少在虚拟空间里。

lost once, gone forever

I read "the Adventures of Robinson Crusoe" to better appreciate Elizabeth Bishop's poem "Crusoe in England".

the original Crusoe was an optimistic depict of human growth, practically and spiritually, as Crusoe kept saying:

“I learned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed, rather than what I wanted : and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot express them ; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented people in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God has given them, because they see and covet something that he has not given them. All our discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.”

with that, the "real" Crusoe came back to his homeland a wiser and nicer man. the book doubled as a moral teaching in addition to a fantastic thrill.

Bishop wanted no such nonsense.  yes Crusoe came back but England was more alien than home. and the dreadful island of "one kind of everything" then became home now that he could not return. things he held dearly in one were worthless and meaningless in the other. what was once sensational turned bland. Friday? well, he just died.

don't know anyone who could make life bleaker.

Crusoe in England

A new volcano has erupted,
the papers say, and last week I was reading   
where some ship saw an island being born:   
at first a breath of steam, ten miles away;   
and then a black fleck—basalt, probably—
rose in the mate’s binoculars
and caught on the horizon like a fly.
They named it. But my poor old island’s still   
un-rediscovered, un-renamable.
None of the books has ever got it right.

Well, I had fifty-two
miserable, small volcanoes I could climb   
with a few slithery strides—
volcanoes dead as ash heaps.
I used to sit on the edge of the highest one   
and count the others standing up,
naked and leaden, with their heads blown off.   
I’d think that if they were the size   
I thought volcanoes should be, then I had   
become a giant;
and if I had become a giant,
I couldn’t bear to think what size   
the goats and turtles were,
or the gulls, or the overlapping rollers   
—a glittering hexagon of rollers   
closing and closing in, but never quite,   
glittering and glittering, though the sky   
was mostly overcast.

My island seemed to be
a sort of cloud-dump. All the hemisphere’s   
left-over clouds arrived and hung
above the craters—their parched throats   
were hot to touch.
Was that why it rained so much?
And why sometimes the whole place hissed?   
The turtles lumbered by, high-domed,   
hissing like teakettles.
(And I’d have given years, or taken a few,   
for any sort of kettle, of course.)
The folds of lava, running out to sea,
would hiss. I’d turn. And then they’d prove   
to be more turtles.
The beaches were all lava, variegated,   
black, red, and white, and gray;
the marbled colors made a fine display.   
And I had waterspouts. Oh,
half a dozen at a time, far out,
they’d come and go, advancing and retreating,   
their heads in cloud, their feet in moving patches   
of scuffed-up white.
Glass chimneys, flexible, attenuated,   
sacerdotal beings of glass ... I watched   
the water spiral up in them like smoke.   
Beautiful, yes, but not much company.

I often gave way to self-pity.
“Do I deserve this? I suppose I must.
I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Was there   
a moment when I actually chose this?
I don’t remember, but there could have been.”   
What’s wrong about self-pity, anyway?
With my legs dangling down familiarly   
over a crater’s edge, I told myself
“Pity should begin at home.” So the more   
pity I felt, the more I felt at home.

The sun set in the sea; the same odd sun   
rose from the sea,
and there was one of it and one of me.   
The island had one kind of everything:   
one tree snail, a bright violet-blue
with a thin shell, crept over everything,   
over the one variety of tree,
a sooty, scrub affair.
Snail shells lay under these in drifts   
and, at a distance,
you’d swear that they were beds of irises.   
There was one kind of berry, a dark red.   
I tried it, one by one, and hours apart.   
Sub-acid, and not bad, no ill effects;   
and so I made home-brew. I’d drink   
the awful, fizzy, stinging stuff
that went straight to my head
and play my home-made flute
(I think it had the weirdest scale on earth)   
and, dizzy, whoop and dance among the goats.   
Home-made, home-made! But aren’t we all?   
I felt a deep affection for
the smallest of my island industries.   
No, not exactly, since the smallest was   
a miserable philosophy.

Because I didn’t know enough.
Why didn’t I know enough of something?   
Greek drama or astronomy? The books   
I’d read were full of blanks;
the poems—well, I tried
reciting to my iris-beds,
“They flash upon that inward eye,
which is the bliss ...” The bliss of what?   
One of the first things that I did
when I got back was look it up.

The island smelled of goat and guano.   
The goats were white, so were the gulls,   
and both too tame, or else they thought   
I was a goat, too, or a gull.
Baa, baa, baa and shriek, shriek, shriek,
baa ... shriek ... baa ... I still can’t shake   
them from my ears; they’re hurting now.
The questioning shrieks, the equivocal replies   
over a ground of hissing rain
and hissing, ambulating turtles
got on my nerves.
When all the gulls flew up at once, they sounded
like a big tree in a strong wind, its leaves.   
I’d shut my eyes and think about a tree,   
an oak, say, with real shade, somewhere.   
I’d heard of cattle getting island-sick.   
I thought the goats were.
One billy-goat would stand on the volcano
I’d christened Mont d’Espoir or Mount Despair
(I’d time enough to play with names),   
and bleat and bleat, and sniff the air.   
I’d grab his beard and look at him.   
His pupils, horizontal, narrowed up
and expressed nothing, or a little malice.   
I got so tired of the very colors!   
One day I dyed a baby goat bright red   
with my red berries, just to see   
something a little different.
And then his mother wouldn’t recognize him.

Dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of food
and love, but they were pleasant rather
than otherwise. But then I’d dream of things   
like slitting a baby’s throat, mistaking it   
for a baby goat. I’d have
nightmares of other islands
stretching away from mine, infinities   
of islands, islands spawning islands,   
like frogs’ eggs turning into polliwogs   
of islands, knowing that I had to live   
on each and every one, eventually,   
for ages, registering their flora,   
their fauna, their geography.

Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it   
another minute longer, Friday came.   
(Accounts of that have everything all wrong.)   
Friday was nice.
Friday was nice, and we were friends.   
If only he had been a woman!
I wanted to propagate my kind,   
and so did he, I think, poor boy.
He’d pet the baby goats sometimes,
and race with them, or carry one around.   
—Pretty to watch; he had a pretty body.

And then one day they came and took us off.

Now I live here, another island,
that doesn’t seem like one, but who decides?
My blood was full of them; my brain   
bred islands. But that archipelago
has petered out. I’m old.
I’m bored, too, drinking my real tea,   
surrounded by uninteresting lumber.
The knife there on the shelf—
it reeked of meaning, like a crucifix.
It lived. How many years did I   
beg it, implore it, not to break?
I knew each nick and scratch by heart,
the bluish blade, the broken tip,
the lines of wood-grain on the handle ...
Now it won’t look at me at all.   
The living soul has dribbled away.   
My eyes rest on it and pass on.

The local museum’s asked me to
leave everything to them:
the flute, the knife, the shrivelled shoes,
my shedding goatskin trousers
(moths have got in the fur),
the parasol that took me such a time   
remembering the way the ribs should go.
It still will work but, folded up,
looks like a plucked and skinny fowl.
How can anyone want such things?
—And Friday, my dear Friday, died of measles
seventeen years ago come March.