Book 18: Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, by Mary Roach
A funny book about dead bodies and the different uses they are put to. Cool stuff. Only slightly gross at times. It’s a fun read. Check it out.
I think I’ll donate my body to science. I like the idea of being useful after I’m dead. Even if I end up a practice dummy for cosmetic surgeons.
CM passed me the “Books I’m embarrassed not to have read” meme. It’s harder than I expected. Last year, I would’ve been able to rattle off ten titles in as many seconds. I had been keeping a list of books I felt I should read, but one of my major goals for my pre-law-school break has been to cross off as much of that list as possible, and I’ve been making pretty good progress (see Moby-Dick, Catcher in the Rye, Farewell to Arms, One Hundred Years of Solitude, etc.).
So my list is pretty small at the moment. And CM took the general category of “philosophy” away from me. So here’s what I got:
The Origin of the Species, by Charles Darwin - Yeah, never read it. Feel like I should. ‘Nuff said.
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter Thompson - Again, just seems like something I should have read. Never saw the movie, either. I know, I suck.
Gravity’s Rainbow, by Thomas Pynchon - I started it about a month ago, but I’ve given up. It’s too dense and challenging for me to get into right now, and I hate having to stop and look up a word’s definition every couple pages. I can see why it’s supposedly a classic; it’s got style like crazy, and it’s pretentious enough to make you feel smart as hell when you work your way through a section. I absolutely hate leaving books unfinished, and so this is probably the most embarrassing one on my list. I’ll finish it sometime, just not right now. Maybe I’ll buy the companion, but maybe that’s cheating. I haven’t decided yet.
The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien - People have recommended this to me since high school and I still haven’t read it. Oops.
The Joy of Cooking - I am not a good cook. I tried for a while, but it didn’t work out so well (and got expensive–well, more expensive than macaroni & cheese and rice, at least). It’s sad, really. Okay, I’m over it.
And I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I hate David Sedaris. Everyone else seems to think he’s the greatest humor writer ever, but I don’t care for him. Actually, screw that, I’m not embarrassed. He’s not funny. Everyone else is dumb. So there.
I make it a point to never pass on chain e-mails and the like, and I’m not about to make an exception here. This strand of the meme dies with me. I won’t pass the meme.
But if I were to pass it on, I would pass it to Narkoleptik, Janine, and foxes. One person without a working internet connection, one who hasn’t posted for a couple weeks, and one who might actually follow through. That is, if I were passing it on, which I’m not.
Thing the first: today I got an email from Columbia asking me to fill out an admissions survey. I’ve looked at it, but I haven’t yet decided if I’m going to do it or not. I guess I feel somewhat obligated to, since they let me in and sent me all that stuff and gave me beer when I visited. It’s not a long survey, but I feel uncomfortable giving them the details of my other financial aid awards. It just seems weird.
Thing the second: a few days ago, I got some information from the University of Virginia’s Student Financial Services. They make tuition management easy and fun. I guess they didn’t get the letter saying I wasn’t going to attend their school. Oops.
Thing the third: I’ll get to the unread books meme tomorrow, hopefully. It’s harder than I expected. Probably because people like Noam Chomsky don’t come up in conversations with my friends. Hmm, that might be a good idea for a post. “Stuff my friends will never talk about.” Note to self.
I try to keep this blog from getting political too often, but what’s up with the filibuster deal? If I understand it correctly, a group of centrists from both sides decided that if the Democrats promise not to filibuster, the Republicans won’t take away their right to filibuster. Put another way, the Republicans get to avoid pissing off the moderates in the party, get to avoid weakening minority rights (just in case they ever leave power), and the Democrats get to lose almost all of the confirmation battles they’ve been fighting and get to look weak in the process.
Splendid deal, fellas.
I suppose everyone’s looking toward the potential Supreme Court nominations, making a few circuit judges seem much less important, but still. It’s not like Frist & co. aren’t gonna bring the nuclear option up again the minute people start thinking about fighting Bush’s pick of Skeletor for Chief Justice.
And as an Ohioan, I just wanna say that Mike DeWine and George Voinovich are frustrating to no end. They waver just enough to make me think there’s a chance, and then they kill my hopes and dreams (like this).
Update: Ezra Klein is smarter than I am. Apparently this deal guarantees no nuclear option through the 2006 elections. That’ll give us a chance for any Supreme Court nominations that happen before then, which is pretty decent. I guess.
Kristine’s right–we’re not pre-law any more. I got my own reminder of this a few days ago, when a friend of a friend e-mailed me to ask about LSAT-taking tips. It made me realize that the next cycle is starting up now. A new set of kids are taking the LSAT, worrying about their personal statements, and checking the admissions calculator sites obsessively. We’re in, and that’s awesome.
I don’t feel like a student just yet, though. It’s more like I’m stuck in limbo. I’m just sitting here while everyone else goes on. My friends are all getting married, working, taking classes, buying houses, while I’m just… waiting. It just feels like things have stopped for me, and they won’t start up again until August.
Not that this is bad. I like having free time, even if I decide to spend all of it reading. I’m sure I’ll miss it once September rolls around.
I had an eye examination today. Nothing funny or interesting happened, but I did confirm that my eyes are slowly but surely getting worse. A few more years of hardcore reading and computer use should fix things up, right?
Oh, and those eye drops with the yellow dye in them? Awesome. They’re like liquid sunglasses. Oh yeah.
Book 17: Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, by Anthony Bourdain
Truthfully, I don’t know a single thing about capital-F Food. Y’know, French stuff, sushi… pretty much anything past the level of Applebee’s confuses and frightens me. So I think this book, the memoirs of a NYC chef, didn’t do as much for me as it would for someone who understands the terms Bourdain throws around.
Regardless, the book is an enjoyably obscene look inside the restaurant business. There’s a lot of drugs, a little sex, and a ridiculous amount of cussing, but what makes the book worthwhile is Bourdain’s obvious love of food and cooking. I’m a sucker for people that love what they do and want to share it with others.
Okay, so I finished Planet Law School II, and I see why people would dislike it. It is not a happy book, and it’s got a bit of a split personality.
First, PLS II aims to be a law school prep book. Mr. Falcon spends a lot of time recommending other books and materials for individual study, preferably before law school even begins. There is a large amount of recommended material here, but surprisingly little actual advice. What is there makes sense to me, however. For instance, he advises students to spend more time making up and thinking about hypotheticals than on the typical activities of briefing cases and preparing for class. When class participation is not graded and the final exam is an issue-spotter, this makes complete sense. Similarly, recommendations to keep main outlines concise and to make and memorize a one- or two-page summary outline seem reasonable.
But PLS is also–and mostly–a rant. Atticus Falcon is pissed. He’s pissed at law professors for hiding the ball, ignoring their teaching responsibilities, tricking students into thinking the wrong things are important, and not teaching them practical lawyering skills. He’s pissed at law schools for allowing the professors to get away with this sham, for raising tuitions to ridiculous levels, for not producing competent attorneys, and for funneling students into corporate law firms. He’s pissed at the ABA for preventing changes to be made to the system. He’s pissed at individual lawyers for being incompetent and immoral. He’s pissed at judges for not understanding the law, and he’s pissed at law students for not caring enough to demand a better education for their money.
The two faces of the book compliment each other, of course. The ranting shows us why Falcon feels such an intensive study regimen is required: in his mind, the system is set up to keep you in the dark, to trick you, along with 90% of your fellow law students into learning the wrong things and to keep you from becoming a competent lawyer. You don’t have any friends out there, so you have to learn it all on your own. In addition, the prep Falcon recommends (especially for legal writing skills and prep for the bar exam) aims to turn you into a good lawyer, hopefully one aware of the problems with the American legal system and maybe in a position to change things.
This isn’t a feel-good book. It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you feel bad about your choice of a career. Most of us are idealistic now. We don’t want to be told that this experience we’re looking forward to is meant to crush our spirits and turn us into immoral (or at least amoral) people. PLS II doesn’t prepare you for law school. It tells you that you will probably fail, and no one is going to care enough to help you. You start feeling like you need to set up a full-time study schedule right away. I picked up PLS to assuage my anxiety about law school. It certainly did not do that.
PLS tells you, emphatically and repeatedly, to buy a lot of other books ($574.50 worth for the first year, to be exact). It’s a hardcore system. Just look at the 12-month, 8-month, 3-month, and 6-week study schedules in Chapter 16 to see for yourself. As such, it seems more realistic than a rainbow highlighter system or other quick fixes touted by law school prep books. It seems right that law school success is complicated and difficult, not something achieved by a trick or method learned in a single book.
Falcon is overly cynical through most of his book. It seems over-the-top. Not all professors are trying to hinder your learning and turn you into a crappy lawyer. (I just can’t see professors moving from neutral, lazy indifference to active sabotage. Does that make me more or less cynical?) Law schools aren’t raising tuitions to force graduates into firm jobs (and there’s also no mention of loan repayment programs, which help counteract the huge debt loads for public interest peoples). I don’t know. Maybe Falcon is trying to convince us it’s better to be unnecessarily wary than to risk being stabbed in the back. I think the hyperbole detracts from the legitimate criticisms, though.
Aside from the (aforementioned) numerous errors and typos in the book, it’s too long and it lacks a coherent flow. Falcon jumps around from subject to subject, and there is no intelligible scheme to indicate main headings, sub-heading, and the like. In short, PLS needs a good editor. Of course, an editor would probably split the ranting off from the prep advice, if not remove it altogether (the chapter on Critical Race/Gender Theory seems to be an especially good candidate for this). I believe part of PLS’s purpose is to incorporate the two. In the guise of an advice book, PLS is an appeal to tomorrow’s lawyers, professors, and judges to think critically about the system they are part of and to maybe change it for the better. The thought is nice, but the execution isn’t quite there.
All in all, if you’re hardcore about preparing for law school, PLS will be useful for its reviews and recommendations of study material. Otherwise, you’ll get much less out of the book, as the cynicism hits ridiculous levels fairly often and there are better-written criticisms of the legal system out there.
I really have to stop subscribing to the Dealnews RSS feed. For a poor, gadget-loving geek like me, reading that feed is torture.
19″ LCD screens, cell phones, digital cameras…
Sigh.
It was a little weird when my friends started getting married, but I’m handling it well, I think. But my younger cousin? I can’t handle that.
Off to break the engagement. Back tomorrow.
I’m in the process of confirming what everyone told me: Planet Law School II is not really that good. Some parts are completely ridiculous. So I’m gonna mock it a little.
I’ll eventually get a post up about the good advice in the book (there is some) and probably a serious one about my complaints with it.
Begin the mockage:
There sure is a lot of italicization in this book. Lots of scare quotes, too. Seriously, man, we got into law school. We’re not idiots. We “get” your “sarcasm”, “homeslice”.
And there’s a lot of scare talk about how law professors try to make their classes confusing and the law difficult to learn. They don’t want students to become competent attorneys! They tell you to read things you don’t need! Sometimes, they’ll give your final on a completely different subject, just to mess with you! And they kick puppies! And they hope your first-born child turns out to be ugly! And dumb! Like you! In fact, the only way you’ll be able to keep up in law school is if you ignore everything law professors say and instead buy the PLS-recommended primers (pricing information included in later chapters). The only way. You don’t want ugly kids, do you? Do you?
In addition to italicizing every other word of his own writing, the author likes to emphasize things in his block quotes, too. Italics get boring, though, so let’s throw some bold in, too! Sometimes he’ll want to really emphasize something. Screw it, let’s give it the boldtalic treatment!
Some of the quotes have underlining by the original author. I’m hoping to run across a little underboldtaliclining, but I haven’t seen any yet. It’s a long book; I’m optimistic.
Maybe he should stick to quoting large chunks of someone else’s material when it is important as a whole, rather than quoting a block and then emphasizing the important parts.
Also, there have been a ridiculous number of typos and spelling errors in my book. Come on, at least run a spell checker over your writing before you send it to the printer!
At one point, Falcon mocks a law professor for misspelling “impostor” as “imposter”, even though dictionary.com says either one works. Considering the above-mentioned point, you might just wanna let that one go, man.
And I hate his font, especially the italics. The italicized capitals and lowercase letters run at different angles. Seriously, it Looks Like This.
Okay, that’s enough for now.
A few days ago, I caved. In a weak moment, I bought Planet Law School II. I was in a brand-new, semi-local, independent bookstore, and I saw PLS II on the shelf. As I usually do when I run across this type of book, I picked it up. Wow, it’s big. Over 800 pages. And it isn’t half-filled with advice on the admissions process like some other books I’ve seen… nice.
I started flipping through it, and some parts looked pretty interesting. And it was big. There’s gotta be good stuff in something that heavy, right? But I don’t wanna blow my money on a “preparing for law school” book. In fact, I shouldn’t be blowing that money at all. So I set PLS II back on the shelf and walked over to the fiction section. But I couldn’t find anything there. I can never remember the books I want to buy when I’m actually in the store or library.
I went back to PLS. I started flipping through it again. I thought about how I like to buy books from independent bookstores when I can, and how this was a brand-new store, and how I wouldn’t be back for a while because it’s a half-hour from my house, and how gosh-darn big this book is…
I set it down again.
And then I’m at home. And I have a bag from Independent Bookstore with Planet Law School II inside. And there’s a receipt with my signature.
And I’m sad inside.
Oh dear. I seem to have been put on the spot. Both foxes and CM have laid claim to the title of “Blawgosphere’s Cutest”, and I, being the sole link between the two, the only one who knows their true identities, have been assigned the role of judge. The importance of this task cannot be understated, nor the responsibility deflected. The fate of the blawgosphere–nay, the world–rests on the broad, rippling shoulders of this Atlas. But I cannot bear this burden eternally. I must cast it off soon, before I am crushed by the pressure.
First, we must determine the scope of the contest. So I ask: What is “cute”?
According to
Merriam-Webster Online:
1 a : clever or shrewd often in an underhanded manner b : IMPERTINENT, SMART-ALECKY (don ‘t get cute with me)
2 : attractive or pretty especially in a dainty or delicate way
3 : obviously straining for effect
It seems obvious that number 2 is the definition we’re looking for.
In The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, we find this word history:
Cute is a good example of how a shortened form of a word can take on a life of its own, developing a sense that dissociates it from the longer word from which it was derived. Cute was originally a shortened form of acute in the sense “keenly perceptive or discerning, shrewd.” In this sense cute is first recorded in a dictionary published in 1731. Probably cute came to be used as a term of approbation for things demonstrating acuteness, and so it went on to develop its own sense of “pretty, fetching,” first recorded with reference to “gals” in 1838.
This seems to hurt foxes’ case, as he is most certainly not a gal. But we’ve come a long way since 1838. Has our society progressed to a point where “lads”, “chaps”, or “fellas”, not just “gals”, can be considered “cute”? I believe so–not only socially, but legally. In Constitutional law, claims of gender discrimination are subject to a “heightened scrutiny” test. This means that the law in question must be “substantially related to a legitimate state interest.” Certainly, we are not examining a legal question here, but I see no reason to let that fact get in my way. As I can think of no “legitimate state interest” that would justify the withholding of the “cute” label from males, it seems there is no barrier to equal-opportunity cuteness.
But isn’t cuteness a subjective description? Can one man truly declare a person cuter than another? Is cuteness in the eye of the beholder, or have I been given license to create an objective reality for the rest of the world? We can begin to make sense of this riddle by invoking Oliver Wendell Holmes. In several sections of The Common Law, Holmes’s treatise on the development of the English and American legal tradition, the eminent jurist examines the elements of crimes and civil remedies and attempts to distill these elements, which often require difficult, if not impossible, assessments of the defendant’s mental state, down to an external standard that applies equally to all people. Adapting this manner of analysis (but not the wisdom behind it), we start by asserting that cuteness is an internal, subjective judgment. If a man calls a puppy cute while attempting to sell it, is this deceitful if the puppy is only cute to the seller? What if the puppy appears cute to everyone except the potential buyer? Does a merchant call something cute at his own peril? This is obviously problematic, not only because of the prohibitive effect on the puppy and kitten markets, but because such a lack of an objective standard casts doubt on the veracity of all speech. Out of fear of a subjective standard of cuteness, people will hesitate to disagree when one calls another person “cute”, “pretty”, or even “hot”. Without the right to differ, how will we know whether Paris Hilton is “sexy” or “a skanky ho-bag attention-whore”?
For the element of intent in criminal law, the objective standard is based on a “person of average prudence”. If such a person could forsee the harm caused by the defendant’s actions, the criminal act is said to be intended. This “average person” model, applied to cuteness, sets an external standard, applicable to all people, that a person may exceed only at her peril.
In this case, I take the position of the average man. Admittedly, a jury trial would be more in keeping with the legal system, but I assume the right has been waived by both parties for the sake of privacy. Secret identities must remain secret, or else our heroes will be captured and made to fight the Omnidroid.
So the time has come to answer the question put to me, to throw this monkey off my back, harpoon this white whale, glue the chip back onto my shoulder, turn this phrase, subtly split this infinitive, eat the bowl of ice cream that has been placed before me:
Who is the cutest blogger in the blawgosphere, foxes or chickenmagazine?
I say, “Yes.”
Go and marinate on that for a minute.
Book 16: Gideon’s Trumpet, by Anthony Lewis
In spring of 1963, the Supreme Court decided the case of Gideon v. Wainwright, which established the right of poor people to be appointed counsel in state felony prosecutions. Gideon’s Trumpet, published the next year, tells the story of this famous case, from Gideon’s self-represented trial and state court appeals to his petition for a writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court, the briefing, oral arguments, and immediate aftermath of the decision.
Writing for laymen, Lewis takes care to explain the legal process and to define the legal terms he uses. His focus on the people behind the case keeps things interesting, but the precedent and arguments contained in the briefs are discussed as well, so it don’t feel like you’re missing out on the legal side of the case. Not a bad read, even though Lewis does fawn a little too much over Abe Fortas, Gideon’s assigned lawyer (and future Supreme Court Justice), and the legal system in general.
I hate to say it, people, but now that the admissions process is over, this blog is going to get really boring*, really fast.
* Read that as “boringer” if you’d like.
In case you couldn’t tell, my whiny post of a few days ago has been bothering me. I don’t think it came off right. Let me try to clarify.
I had four great choices for law school. It’s been a long time since I’ve had choices like this, and it felt good. I enjoyed feeling somewhat free for the first time in years (ever?), and so I felt a little disappointed that I had to give up that feeling, even though I am incredibly happy with my choice and haven’t had second thoughts about it at all. (I liked all the schools I visited, but Boston/Cambridge just did something for me that NYC, Ann Arbor, and Charlottesville didn’t do.)
I’m happy and excited and looking forward to starting law school in the fall. I dream of hearts and puppies and rainbows and pretty flowers and ice cream cones with candy eyes and sprinkles for hair. I love one of you romantically, the rest of you platonically, and wish nothing but the best for you and yours.
Best Friends Forever,
XOXOXOXO,
Josh
A few days ago, I proclaimed myself Supreme Dictator of Whinyland (heh, I said “tator”). Today, foxes attempts a coup.
Admittedly, he’s got more to complain about than I do. Waitlist purgatory (Chicago and Columbia) can’t be fun. With that in mind, I’ll retract my whining. I had four amazing choices and I picked the place I think will be the best for me. It’s nice to have that settled and know where I’m going in the fall. I’m excited about new experiences and meeting people and all that. I’m even looking forward to being sick of law school. I’m in an amazing situation here. I’m damned lucky, but sometimes I need reminders. A commenter here saying he could die happy with a 165 on the LSAT. A friend of mine not getting a single acceptance this year.
So no more whining. I’m done. Apologies and such.
Book 15: If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, by Italo Calvino
Written in the second-person, this book follows the path of the Reader as he attempts to read If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, the new novel by Italo Calvino. Unfortunately, there has been a problem during the book’s printing; the first chapter repeats over and over, so the Reader returns to the store to find an intact copy. This leads him to another book which is similarly interrupted, and off we go on a search for these novels that doubles as an extended meditation on the writing, publishing, and reading of books.
In other words, postmodern like crazy.
If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler explores, among (many) other things, the reasons people read, the expectations they have when doing so, the meanings readers extract from a book compared to a meaning the author may have intended, and the “reality” of a work of fiction. This may sound tedious, but really, it’s not. This is a fun book to read. Calvino is funny, the story line is entertaining, and, despite appearances, the plot is not terribly hard to follow. Some people might not be able to handle the lack of closure created by the ten openings that are never concluded, but for everyone else, I would definitely recommend it.
So I’m kinda bummed about being done with the law school application process. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my choice, though. It’s more that I liked having the options. I liked feeling that I could go to any of those four schools and have a great experience. It’s the first time I’ve had this many options since, well, ever, I think. I had the whole country open to me (well, really only everything east of Ohio, but it felt like the whole country). Now that my choice has been made and the other options have been closed off,
for the next few months I’m on a set path to Boston, which isn’t quite as exciting.
Again, don’t get me wrong. I am excited about Harvard and Boston, and I’m certainly glad the decision process is over. I just think about the places I could have gone and the people I could have met, and I’m a little sad that I won’t be able to have those experiences too. I’m greedy, I suppose.
That’s right, I can even whine about going to Harvard. Beat that, amateurs.