Having a great belly-laugh over the book "Secret Days: Code-breaking in Bletchley Park", about top-secret intelligence work in Britain during World War II.
And the bit I find so hilarious is an account of a huge fight among the bigwigs at Bletchley Park about who make the best problem-solvers, Physicists or Historians. The physicist and novelist C.P. Snow was adamant that every Historian he'd ever come across was a far better problem solver and recogniser of complex patterns than any Physicist, so, to test this theory, they brought a herd of Historians into the British Intelligence Service headquarters and gave them sets of complex problems to solve.
Guess who won?
Yup, hands down and without question, Historians were better problem-solvers and pattern-recognisers than Physicists ... so take that, Dr Sheldon Cooper!
And thus they had a great many Historians working on the code-breaking problem during WWII.
And speaking of code-breaking, I actually met one of the Enigma code-breakers. It was over a decade ago in Townsville one ANZAC Day on the afternoon after the ANZAC March when Keith's band was playing at an Irish bar full of veterans.
This was the first year that the ANZACs had instigated the policy of outing the frauds - those men who buy medals to wear on such occasions - so as Keith's band played I was having the best chat with a lot of lovely old veterans about how to spot frauds. They were telling me that the medals a fellow sported should always tell a coherent story and since this was a mind-blowing thought for me - that a person's medals tell a story. Wow! - I was pointing out different ex-soldiers and getting my sweet veterans to tell me all they could about each of them. And, yes, they were right: you can indeed tell an ex-soldier's entire war-time history from the honours they wear. And, yes, we spotted four frauds among their number who the other veterans at the bar asked to leave. And yes, violence was threatened.
And that's when an old man came in who was literally covered in medals; practically more than his uniform could handle, and all the vets at the bar practically fell over themselves in the rush to buy him a drink. "Tell me about him." I said, very definitely intrigued.
"Polish Army, British Intelligence." they told me. "Very important." "Those are the most important honours from every one of the Allied Nations" "Did something seriously big deal and very important.", "Hazarding a guess, I'd say he's most probably one of the Polish fellows who broke the Enigma Code." said one.
Karen was there that afternoon so, because her husband was Polish and she spent a lot of time at the Polish Club, I immediately went to ask her. "Yes, that's XXXX (I'm sorry but I've forgotten his name.) He's one of the five fellows who broke the Enigma Code." she says and so I'm immediately clambering for an introduction.
But that afternoon we couldn't even get close because he was surrounded and swamped by ex-soldiers and when I told Karen I was after a historical subject for my PhD thesis and I'd love to talk with him sometime, she said she'd arrange a meeting between us at the Townsville Polish Club for the following week ... which we did ... a very pleasant dinner where we talked about Mick Jagger of all people, who, it seems, was in close personal contact with this lovely Polish fellow because he had the most intense interest in Everything Enigma. Who knew?
However the bad news was that he'd already got a historian getting down his story so I couldn't have him, dammit. And since I've never come across anyone else who I'd like to do a PhD on, I still haven't got around to it.
So, yes, I once met one of the five Polish men who broke the Enigma Code, but not on that ANZAC Day afternoon, because I then went back to snuggling in the corner with my lovely elderly veterans, confirming their guess and learning how to read medals and ousting frauds ... but now my memory has pulled up that entire afternoon, I can tell you that I did meet him that day because later, after many drinks, I taught Enigma-cracker and an elderly Hasidic Rabbi from Israel how to dance an Irish jig and learning how to dance "Hava Nagila" to Irish shanties in return; the most hilarious experience imaginable. Yup, that was a really, really lovely day.
But look at that. Once again wayyyy off topic. I was meant to be talking about we HISTORIANS!!!
And I meant to tell you that once, while doing my first Masters, I was asked to take part in a brain functions experiment. The theory being tested was that Science folks do their problem solving in the left half of the brain (or is it the right?) while Humanities folk do their problem solving in the right half of the brain (or is it the left?). Naturally I was thrilled to take part, and so I was rigged up to a great many machines for the afternoon and given various problems to solve ...
... and the results of the tests showed that while Science folk do indeed problem solve in one half of their brain, we Humanities sorts use ALL our brains. Yup, we light up all over the place in both brain hemispheres.
So I guess C.P. Snow really did nail it and we Historians do indeed have what it takes to make meaning out of complex patterns. So ... yeah ... GO US!!!!
Monday, March 12, 2012
Versions of Books!
This is in regard to a conversation I'm currently having with someone, so if you're not that someone you will probably not get it:
1) Back when I was teaching high school, I had to put together a unit on "Lord of the Flies" and used my own copy of the book to get together very interesting work tracing progressively through Ralph's dreams. Needless to say, the kids had no idea what it was about because the version they were given to read didn't have any reference to Ralph's dreams at all.
2) When I was teaching at university, we had teach a unit on "Pride and Prejudice", a book I thought I didn't have to re-read since I'd read so many times I thought I practically knew it off my heart. But then I couldn't understand the essay question - something about masks, cross-dressing and pretense - and thus realised I had to read the book again, and I couldn't believe it. There was so much stuff in the university version that wasn't in any copy I'd come across before: like Lieutenant Denny being both gay and a secret transvestite (I did wonder why none of the Bennet girls considered him husband material) who comes out of the closet at Lydia's behest and then Lydia adopts the male role and starts wearing men's clothes to compliment Denny's female clothes, scandalising everyone in town, and by the time Elizabeth returns from her holiday, things have gone so far the couple are planning a cross-gender faux marriage. Whoever knew - and I've read and heard many arguments about Jane Austen's character's conventional little worlds - that Jane Austen even knew about these sorts of things, let alone wrote about them.
3) Over the years I had a great many arguments about who Pip marries at the end of "Great Expectations". I KNEW he married that unnamed girl he met in India but all these very silly people kept insisting he married Estelle. I had read my childhood copy so many times, I knew that I knew what really happened but then, only a few years ago, after yet another argument, I reread the book just to reassure myself I was indeed right and everyone else was all wrong but to my horror I discovered that he did indeed marry Estelle. This remained a mystery for several years until I discovered that George Bernard Shaw was so outraged that Charles Dickens was forced to change the ending of "Great Expectations" - so that Pip marries Estelle - that he himself published the original Dickens version wherein Pip marries the girl he meets in India. And since he only published 1000 copies of this version, they are now worth a veritable fortune ... and, dammit, I have no idea what became of my childhood copy of this treasure.
4) There was a passage in Ernest Hemingway's "Snows of Kilimanjaro" about the jackals' footprints around a waterhole that I once used as my central thesis in a university essay. I was at that time into looking up imagery in my "Biblical Concordance" and it was there I discovered that the image of a jackal's footprints around a waterhole was in a reference to the punishment god metes out on those men who "put away a good wife in order to marry a rich woman", which is precisely what this mysterious novel is about: exactly tracing all the punishments each in turn. It was a clear as clear. However, when I submitted the essay, Nicholas said I had to rewrite it because there was absolutely no passage about jackal's footprints in the version I was MEANT to have read, which meant I was then as confused as to what the book was about as the rest of the world is.
So those are four examples of the great many I could tell you about how different versions of novels can really really screw you up.
1) Back when I was teaching high school, I had to put together a unit on "Lord of the Flies" and used my own copy of the book to get together very interesting work tracing progressively through Ralph's dreams. Needless to say, the kids had no idea what it was about because the version they were given to read didn't have any reference to Ralph's dreams at all.
2) When I was teaching at university, we had teach a unit on "Pride and Prejudice", a book I thought I didn't have to re-read since I'd read so many times I thought I practically knew it off my heart. But then I couldn't understand the essay question - something about masks, cross-dressing and pretense - and thus realised I had to read the book again, and I couldn't believe it. There was so much stuff in the university version that wasn't in any copy I'd come across before: like Lieutenant Denny being both gay and a secret transvestite (I did wonder why none of the Bennet girls considered him husband material) who comes out of the closet at Lydia's behest and then Lydia adopts the male role and starts wearing men's clothes to compliment Denny's female clothes, scandalising everyone in town, and by the time Elizabeth returns from her holiday, things have gone so far the couple are planning a cross-gender faux marriage. Whoever knew - and I've read and heard many arguments about Jane Austen's character's conventional little worlds - that Jane Austen even knew about these sorts of things, let alone wrote about them.
3) Over the years I had a great many arguments about who Pip marries at the end of "Great Expectations". I KNEW he married that unnamed girl he met in India but all these very silly people kept insisting he married Estelle. I had read my childhood copy so many times, I knew that I knew what really happened but then, only a few years ago, after yet another argument, I reread the book just to reassure myself I was indeed right and everyone else was all wrong but to my horror I discovered that he did indeed marry Estelle. This remained a mystery for several years until I discovered that George Bernard Shaw was so outraged that Charles Dickens was forced to change the ending of "Great Expectations" - so that Pip marries Estelle - that he himself published the original Dickens version wherein Pip marries the girl he meets in India. And since he only published 1000 copies of this version, they are now worth a veritable fortune ... and, dammit, I have no idea what became of my childhood copy of this treasure.
4) There was a passage in Ernest Hemingway's "Snows of Kilimanjaro" about the jackals' footprints around a waterhole that I once used as my central thesis in a university essay. I was at that time into looking up imagery in my "Biblical Concordance" and it was there I discovered that the image of a jackal's footprints around a waterhole was in a reference to the punishment god metes out on those men who "put away a good wife in order to marry a rich woman", which is precisely what this mysterious novel is about: exactly tracing all the punishments each in turn. It was a clear as clear. However, when I submitted the essay, Nicholas said I had to rewrite it because there was absolutely no passage about jackal's footprints in the version I was MEANT to have read, which meant I was then as confused as to what the book was about as the rest of the world is.
So those are four examples of the great many I could tell you about how different versions of novels can really really screw you up.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Figi Cannibals.
Lots of photos of Fijians bought by P.T. Barnum to display as freaks in his sideshow exhibits at his American circus have come to light. It's all news to us and causing a bit of outrage but I really don't want to go there.
Instead let me show you one of the photos that I find interesting on so many levels:
First off, "Ra Bian, the Dwarf". If you look closely, he isn't a dwarf; he's a perfectly formed man only with midget proportions. He makes me intensely curious because there's always been legends of a tribe of non-Fijian pygmies up in Vanua Levu, there before Fijians first arrived but so deadly Fijians quickly learned to be frightened of them and leave them alone.
When they first discovered Homo Flores in Indonesia, I started thinking about Fiji's pygmy legends because it's all very "Mmmmmm!" isn't it. However, they were so amazed at these little people reaching as far as Indonesia, I think it'll blow the tops of their heads off to consider they ever ended up as far away from Indonesia as Fiji. (Btw, did you know there are also pygmy tribes in North Queensland who were already there when the Murri Aboriginals arrived, purportedly between 40,000 and 60,000 years ago.)
So this image above of Ra Bian opens up so much speculation. Where did the Blackbirders who originally kidnapped him find him? Is he one of the mythical Veli Lekas of Natewa Bay? But much more importantly, what did P.T. Barnum do with his remains? It would be so interesting to examine them, wouldn't it?
And the second thing I find interesting about this photo is that they've all got names. Back in those days, photos of natives were usually just labeled "Natives of Wherever". When the Queen visited Fiji in 1953, she bought gifts of drawings and photos of "Natives of Fiji" that she'd had hunted up in all the museums, universities and ethography centres in England and Europe. These were given as gifts to the descendents of those "Natives" (a smart move considering those 19th century explorers and ethnographers usually took photos or sketches of only the highest ranking chiefs because their clothes were more strange and magnificent.) However the Queen's historians had a worst task beforehand identifying who the photos and drawings were of because ALL the records just said "Native of Fiji." No names anywhere in the records. But they did it - usually by working out where the sketches and/or photos were taken and who would be the most logical person to be in that shot - so great kudos to them.
But here, in this poster advertising P.T. Barnum's Circus, these "Natives of Fiji" all have names, almost unheard of back in those days.
So, OK, yeah, Fiji's damned annoyed that some of our own were kidnapped, sold off and put into a freak-show in America and I understand where that annoyance is coming from, but I think we should also acknowledge a certain level of enlightenment at work here. Sure, they may be freaks ... but they were freaks who were seen as individuals, so kudos of a kind to P.T. Barnum.
Instead let me show you one of the photos that I find interesting on so many levels:
Barnum's advertising poster.
First off, "Ra Bian, the Dwarf". If you look closely, he isn't a dwarf; he's a perfectly formed man only with midget proportions. He makes me intensely curious because there's always been legends of a tribe of non-Fijian pygmies up in Vanua Levu, there before Fijians first arrived but so deadly Fijians quickly learned to be frightened of them and leave them alone.
When they first discovered Homo Flores in Indonesia, I started thinking about Fiji's pygmy legends because it's all very "Mmmmmm!" isn't it. However, they were so amazed at these little people reaching as far as Indonesia, I think it'll blow the tops of their heads off to consider they ever ended up as far away from Indonesia as Fiji. (Btw, did you know there are also pygmy tribes in North Queensland who were already there when the Murri Aboriginals arrived, purportedly between 40,000 and 60,000 years ago.)
So this image above of Ra Bian opens up so much speculation. Where did the Blackbirders who originally kidnapped him find him? Is he one of the mythical Veli Lekas of Natewa Bay? But much more importantly, what did P.T. Barnum do with his remains? It would be so interesting to examine them, wouldn't it?
And the second thing I find interesting about this photo is that they've all got names. Back in those days, photos of natives were usually just labeled "Natives of Wherever". When the Queen visited Fiji in 1953, she bought gifts of drawings and photos of "Natives of Fiji" that she'd had hunted up in all the museums, universities and ethography centres in England and Europe. These were given as gifts to the descendents of those "Natives" (a smart move considering those 19th century explorers and ethnographers usually took photos or sketches of only the highest ranking chiefs because their clothes were more strange and magnificent.) However the Queen's historians had a worst task beforehand identifying who the photos and drawings were of because ALL the records just said "Native of Fiji." No names anywhere in the records. But they did it - usually by working out where the sketches and/or photos were taken and who would be the most logical person to be in that shot - so great kudos to them.
But here, in this poster advertising P.T. Barnum's Circus, these "Natives of Fiji" all have names, almost unheard of back in those days.
So, OK, yeah, Fiji's damned annoyed that some of our own were kidnapped, sold off and put into a freak-show in America and I understand where that annoyance is coming from, but I think we should also acknowledge a certain level of enlightenment at work here. Sure, they may be freaks ... but they were freaks who were seen as individuals, so kudos of a kind to P.T. Barnum.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Kiwi Oscar.
I've only just found out and I must say I am thrilled that New Zealand won the "Best Song" Oscar in 2012.
BUT just listen to the song that won:
When I first heard it my immediate reaction was "Oh Lordy, they MUST be joking. It sounds like something that Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" would write."
And guess what? When I said this to Keith two days ago, he gave me a strange look and said "Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" did write it!"
Immediately the song was forgiven and I was doing "Go New Zealand" air punches and happy dances.
But sanity has returned and again I'm thinking "Oh Lordy, what is WRONG with the judges?"
It's a bad song. In fact, it's a Bret-Song and they are all, by definition, truly dreadful. I totally adore Bret and Jermaine but in the name of calling a spade a spade Bret-Songs are always undeniably and completely CRAP!
Do you know HBO's "Flight of the Conchords"? It's a comedy series of outstanding excellence about two Kiwi singer-songwriters, Bret and Jermaine, trying to break into the music scene in America. It shows here in Hong Kong and Keith and I never miss it and not just because Keith is a loyal and patriotic Kiwi but mostly because it's so very funny:
But the central joke is that Bret is an atrocious songwriter and the music they make together as "Flight of the Conchords" can only be described as unbelievably and irretrievably BAD. Let me find one for you:
Absolutely and undeniably BAD, right? In fact, it's so very bad you simply can't stop laughing.
Another one?
Three years ago, when I sent these links to Lady R. she wrote back saying "I really don't like this sort of crap. Please don't send me any more."
And now "this sort of crap" has won a Best Song Oscar. Naturally I'm thrilled for Bret and for New Zealand but ...
... Bret-Songs really must be the WORST songs ever written.
I think once again America has shown that it really doesn't understand irony.
So nice when that pays off.
BUT just listen to the song that won:
When I first heard it my immediate reaction was "Oh Lordy, they MUST be joking. It sounds like something that Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" would write."
And guess what? When I said this to Keith two days ago, he gave me a strange look and said "Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" did write it!"
Immediately the song was forgiven and I was doing "Go New Zealand" air punches and happy dances.
But sanity has returned and again I'm thinking "Oh Lordy, what is WRONG with the judges?"
It's a bad song. In fact, it's a Bret-Song and they are all, by definition, truly dreadful. I totally adore Bret and Jermaine but in the name of calling a spade a spade Bret-Songs are always undeniably and completely CRAP!
Do you know HBO's "Flight of the Conchords"? It's a comedy series of outstanding excellence about two Kiwi singer-songwriters, Bret and Jermaine, trying to break into the music scene in America. It shows here in Hong Kong and Keith and I never miss it and not just because Keith is a loyal and patriotic Kiwi but mostly because it's so very funny:
But the central joke is that Bret is an atrocious songwriter and the music they make together as "Flight of the Conchords" can only be described as unbelievably and irretrievably BAD. Let me find one for you:
Absolutely and undeniably BAD, right? In fact, it's so very bad you simply can't stop laughing.
Another one?
Three years ago, when I sent these links to Lady R. she wrote back saying "I really don't like this sort of crap. Please don't send me any more."
And now "this sort of crap" has won a Best Song Oscar. Naturally I'm thrilled for Bret and for New Zealand but ...
... Bret-Songs really must be the WORST songs ever written.
I think once again America has shown that it really doesn't understand irony.
So nice when that pays off.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Shanghai Tang Competition
Shanghai Tang ...
... is having a competition with prizes for those folks who correctly guess where their new flagship store is to be.
I MUST take part. I don't know the answer but I'm about to make finding out my mission. Yes, I know it's all a publicity exercise but I simply cannot resist anything Shanghai Tang ... and to win anything beautiful and free is definitely my idea of bliss.
If you don't already know, Shanghai Tang's flagship in Pedder Building on Pedder Street is no more. What happened was that in the middle of 2011 the American company Abercrombie and Fitch offered the landlord 2 1/2 times the rent and the totally disloyal lessor jumped at it, throwing out the most beautiful shop you've ever seen. Ah, you should have seen the vicious HK blogs on the subject.
It made me very cross at the time because, well, David Tang - the lovely fellow who started Shanghai Tang - is a local Hong Konger who possibly created the current distinctive and beautiful HK aesthetic whereas the other company is American and sells an aesthetic that is entirely NOT Hong Kong. I shudder to think what HK kids will start to look like once A&F opens its doors. Downtown Harlem?
And it was also wrong because David Tang was the fellow who saved the beautiful Pedder Building from the wrecking ball. And now it's this wonderful distinctive old building in among the glass-plate high-rise and so DESIRABLE some random Yank comes along and usurps it from him.
It's all so sad. Oh lordy, you should have seen the interior of Shanghai Tang: all Shanghai 1930s opium den decor with wonderful mosaics and coloured glass and carved dark wood. It was all so to-die-for, I do hope they recycled.
Anyway, Shanghai Tang - making a sino-fashion-statement out of the ousting - is currently to be found trading out of yurts on the roof of a ferry pier in Central:
... but now they want folks to guess where they'll be moving to next. With prizes for folks who guess correctly.
Since I cannot resist taking part I've been trawling through cyberspace looking for hints and I think I've found enough to know where to start looking: it'll be somewhere in Central and I think I've got to keep my eye out for an old four-storey granite building that is currently under scaffolding.
And if I manage to locate it, I will most definitely be taking photos. However, I may not be showing them to you. Hey, it's Shanghai Tang. I'm after the prize for myself.
the most beautiful store on the planet
- only Harvey Nichols comes close-
... is having a competition with prizes for those folks who correctly guess where their new flagship store is to be.
I MUST take part. I don't know the answer but I'm about to make finding out my mission. Yes, I know it's all a publicity exercise but I simply cannot resist anything Shanghai Tang ... and to win anything beautiful and free is definitely my idea of bliss.
If you don't already know, Shanghai Tang's flagship in Pedder Building on Pedder Street is no more. What happened was that in the middle of 2011 the American company Abercrombie and Fitch offered the landlord 2 1/2 times the rent and the totally disloyal lessor jumped at it, throwing out the most beautiful shop you've ever seen. Ah, you should have seen the vicious HK blogs on the subject.
It made me very cross at the time because, well, David Tang - the lovely fellow who started Shanghai Tang - is a local Hong Konger who possibly created the current distinctive and beautiful HK aesthetic whereas the other company is American and sells an aesthetic that is entirely NOT Hong Kong. I shudder to think what HK kids will start to look like once A&F opens its doors. Downtown Harlem?
And it was also wrong because David Tang was the fellow who saved the beautiful Pedder Building from the wrecking ball. And now it's this wonderful distinctive old building in among the glass-plate high-rise and so DESIRABLE some random Yank comes along and usurps it from him.
And the usurpers aren't even using
HK's traditional bamboo scaffolding
during the renovation.
Talk about Neo-Colonialism in action!
It's all so sad. Oh lordy, you should have seen the interior of Shanghai Tang: all Shanghai 1930s opium den decor with wonderful mosaics and coloured glass and carved dark wood. It was all so to-die-for, I do hope they recycled.
Anyway, Shanghai Tang - making a sino-fashion-statement out of the ousting - is currently to be found trading out of yurts on the roof of a ferry pier in Central:
Shanghai Tang Mongolian Village
Rooftop,
Rooftop,
Lamma Island Ferry,
Pier 4 (walking distance from IFC Mall.)
Central, Hong Kong
Central, Hong Kong
... but now they want folks to guess where they'll be moving to next. With prizes for folks who guess correctly.
Since I cannot resist taking part I've been trawling through cyberspace looking for hints and I think I've found enough to know where to start looking: it'll be somewhere in Central and I think I've got to keep my eye out for an old four-storey granite building that is currently under scaffolding.
And if I manage to locate it, I will most definitely be taking photos. However, I may not be showing them to you. Hey, it's Shanghai Tang. I'm after the prize for myself.
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