Project Complete

Welcome to my blog: A Dry, Yeastless Factuality.

Consult "Using This Blog" (to the right) to get the most out of this tour of progress.

MULTIPLICITY: Trying to learn everything before going on Jeopardy

In “The Know-It-All,” writer A.J. Jacobs – like his book’s subtitle says – goes on a quest to become the smartest person in the world.

What’s interesting about the quest is that the solution, the book’s premise assumes, is to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. Calvino dissects the word “encyclopedia,” saying it is an inherent contradiction, since “cycl” implies a circle of information (necessary closed). Technically, of course, even the encyclopedia is limited, so it’s not so much the encyclopedia’s flaw, but a flaw in assuming that reading an entire “closed circle of knowledge” ultimately imparts much wisdom, or not.

The book is quite interesting, and is even more fascinating after reading Calvino’s memo on Multiplicity. Jacobs has written a book about reading this entire “circle of knowledge,” and the conclusions he ends up drawing, I think, are very similar to what Calvino might have predicted from such a quest. Jacobs realizes early that there is a difference between knowing factoids and having knowledge. It’s a futile attempt from the begininning.

Calvino speaks of two writers’ different views to describe how one might tackle multiplicity in writing. Carlo Emilio Gadda believed in tangling oneself in a network of relationships as a means to understanding. Robert Musil gives the impression of always understanding everything by observing the multiplicity of codes and different levels of thought, but believed in not becoming involved, learning only by observing.

Jacobs’ attempt is a fusion, in ways, of both approaches. Without a doubt, he has immersed himself, tangled himself, in a network of information. He becomes so tangled that he nearly goes crazy. Like Musil, though, his vantage point is also as an observer, and as a studier.

For all of these reasons – not to mention the visual meanings of the book’s cover – I believe The Know-It-All is an example worthy of Calvino’s ideas.

EXACTITUDE: look they have a sale on, um, what are those?

In this memo, Calvino fears that language is losing its exactitude. In fact, I’m not sure that any other memo features as much fear and pessimism from Calvino – and it’s not hard to see why. The way he describes the automation of so much communication (and this 1987 he’s thinking of; imagine how he’d feel today!) indeed shows a concerning trend. Despite what might appear to be benefits of the “unending rainfall of images” that surrounds us everywhere, these images are so pervasive and constant that, Calvino says, images are being stripped of their meaning.

Calvino toes a delicate line, though, between making his point and almost seeming to contradict himself. He cites Giacomo Leopardi’s claim that vagueness and imprecision is what makes poetry beautiful – the more vague, the more beautiful.

Throughout the whole book, Calvino’s not afraid to present the “opposite value” as the one he is discussing, as he asserts that the negative terms can be just as enlightening.

What would you think if you came across the following image in your grocery store?



We know bananas when we see them. Really, when you think about it, isn’t it strange that such a thing is labeled at all? “Bananas” Oh, that’s what I was going to guess, the yellow curved fruit. So does this image show the beauty of vagueness or the laziness and danger of automation and imprecision.

I would argue that it’s brilliant, actually. It’s only an imprecise sign for someone who needs be told the fruit’s exact name. Anyone else would say, “that’s the most precise banana sign I’ve ever seen.” Yellow curved fruit – that’s banana’s alright, the essence of its exactitude.

VISIBILITY: it's a dog, it's a whale, it's the Taj Mahal . . . err, now it's just a cloud

Visibility takes on the question of inspiration. Where do our ideas come from, and more specifically, what connection do images have to these ideas?

Dante thought his inspiration came from the “sky,” metaphorically raining down in him from heaven. Carl Jung thought we were all influenced by the same shared, internal “world soul.” Consider clouds to be a compromise of both ideas:



Surely one of the oldest conversation starters in human civilization is debating what images we see in the clouds. In the above photo, I see a terrier riding a manatee, but that’s not important. On any clear day, we can go outside, lay on the ground, and let inspiration come to us. Their abstractness allows near-limitless possibilities for where our mind might go, but they have just enough structure that ideas virtually form themselves in the back of our minds. Miles away, another person may be looking up at the same cloud – perhaps drawing the same conclusion, or perhaps a completely different one. Whether or not we are coming up with the same ideas doesn’t matter; what matters is that literally suspended above all of our heads is this blue canvas projecting images of inspiration to us every (cloudy) day.

I think Calvino would approve of this idea. While someone inspired by clouds would undoubtedly have been influenced by images, he or she might not be able to verbalize what is was about that cloud that prompted the creation of a novel, poem, or blog post. This, I think, is crucial to inspiration. It happens below our surface, like the iceberg metaphor. We can only be so aware of the concrete sources we have drawn from, which is why the wispy, airy clouds resonate so strongly with me.

QUICKNESS: Bookshelf in your mind

The aspect of Quickness that has stuck with me most is it’s relation to narrative time. Often Calvino’s concepts require a good deal of indirect logic and application to be able to see them in the context of day-to-day literature, but I found this concept to be as applicable as it was fascinating.

“Time takes no time in a story,” he says at one point. Indeed, the author of any piece (of fiction especially) has the power of controlling time. Granted, the author can actually control everything in his or her story, but is the control over time that is arguably the most important. It affects pacing, which affects mood and tone; it creates suspense; it allows the author to establish the world he or she wants the story to exist in.

There is another aspect of Quickness that Calvino speaks of, which is actually quite related to controlling time: controlling details. A story told with quickness does not feature details that don’t matter. It tells just enough, and nothing more. I’d say a bad book would be one that has no firm hold on time, letting days and years drag on, being weighted down by details that distract from the story. Thus, a good book is a “quick” book.

I would love to find a clipart to perfectly express what I mean, or be able to create the image myself, but neither of these have proved possible yet, so I’ll need to describe the imagery I see in this concept:

Your brain is a bookshelf. It’s filled with books, which are filled with the knowledge you’ve accumulated. Technically, space is not really limited, however careful organization and efficiency are valued. Therefore, when you add a new book, you want to make sure it’s worthy of the space it fills. If your bookshelf is full of books that are too big or contain unimportant information, it will take you longer to retrieve what you need.

So seek “quick” books to build your library. They take up less space without sacrificing their knowledge. They are orderly, without meandering paths of distraction.

LIGHTNESS: Now Batting, #5, the firstbasemen, a metaphor

“Lightness” featured a very good metaphorical image from Calvino – one of the easier ones to understand, while still being profound. From Ovid’s Metamorphoses, he de gave the example of Perseus who shows lightness in dealing with Medusa, the Gorgon. He can only gaze upon her indirectly, reflected off his shield. Later, he is able to cut off her head, but again must exercise caution. Calvino draws out the elements of both lightness and weight in this story: the idea of turning to stone is certainly a metaphor for becoming bogged down, especially due to carelessness, and Perseus is the hero because he is able to balance his immense strength with lightness, when necessary.

It is this balance between these two opposites of strength and lightness that is most vital to understanding the concept of this “memo.”

If one wished to make a baseball star into his or her hero, it wouldn’t entirely appropriate if that hero were Albert Pujols. He stands 6’3” and weighs over 230 pounds – both conservative estimates – yet is known for his agility as much as his strength. Year-in and year-out, he’s a good bet to lead the league in Home Runs, arguably the most strength-related achievement in all of sports.

In 2006, he won a Gold Glove – the honor for best fielding at each position. Every year he has played, though, he’s been considered one of the best, quickest, and most agile first-basemen. Typically, throughout baseball history, you’re either a slugger or you’re a fielder – to do both well wasn’t even expected. Perseus is the Hercules of his stories – the one everyone counts on for bravery and physical might. One might expect even his most ardent admirers to suggest that someone else be tasked with the delicate duty of transporting the Gorgon’s head, but clearly Perseus, Calvino’s emblem of lightness, is quite capable.

To extract a single image from the Albert-Pujols-as-Lightness idea, consider this enormous man, fully extending himself to corral a sharply hit ground ball. He has left his feet, his dive places him parallel to the ground. This exertion of physical strength and quickness is happening simultaneously with the fine motor (and reflexive) skill of positioning his glove in place to trap the ball. His next move is equally important: he needs to either personally get the ball to first base, or throw it to a teammate, otherwise the diving stop is meaningless. As easily as a man half his size, Pujols is able to make this play. It cannot be forgotten that these actions are being carried out by the physical frame of a Home Run slugger. Surely, this is an emblem of the perfect balance between strength and lightness.

http://mlb.mlb.com/media/video.jsp?content_id=7023297