Neil Fein's Blog

Polaris
Jack McDevitt


The third book in a loose series featuring Mr. McDevitt's character Alex Benedict, Polaris is told from the viewpoint of Chase Kolpath, Alex's pilot and assistant. Chase doesn't quite Rainbow, Alex's two-person operation that sells archaeological finds, but she is certainly a well-known face to their wealthy clients, and very skilled at cutting through bureaucracy.

The setup behind this vaguely noir/mystery book involves the mysterious ship Polaris whose passengers and crew vanished mysteriously 60 years ago. The ship has captivated the public for years. While the Polaris was hardly the only ship to disappear, the way it's crew of celebrity scientists-- and young, pretty captain Madeline English-- vanished in impossible circumstances is an inexplicable, glittering mystery for the ages.

When Chase cuts a deal for Rainbow with Survey (a government exploration and artifact recovery agency) to have first crack at buying Polaris artifacts, the building is bombed by parties unknown, taking out most of the artifacts. The mystery behind the bombing-- and what did happen on the Polaris all those years ago, by the way-- is delightful reading, and difficult to put down. (I read most of the book on a plane, and managed to stay focused despite the bad movie and noisy passengers.)

The books seems to be headed towards a pretty pork-barreled nine-eleven analogy for the first few chapters, but it thankfully drops that quickly. The sense of a complete world is not as great as it could be, but the author does a very good job of painting a universe where human colonies are all-- almost all-- united. (The history of this world is much richer in A Talent for War, the first of the Alex Benedict books. yes, I'm reading them out of order.)

A fun book, with an unexpected ending. This is the first of Jack McDevitt's books that I've read, and I intend to keep reading them as long as they stay good.

Labels: books

A Crack in the Edge of the World
America and the Great California Earthquake of 1906
by Simon Winchester

The story of the earthquake that devastated the then-young city of San Francisco is particularly well-suited to the Simon Winchester "grand event" treatment. The earthquake -- and the vast fire that followed -- is an event of such scale, that a writer known to convey bewildering arrays of facts well is needed to merely outline it.

The haphazard rebuilding of the city is a story that directly follows not only the quake and fire, but the needs of businesses in the city and, in particular, the fear that the young city might not bounce back. In typical style, Mr. Winchester dissects not only the disaster, but the social atmosphere it took place in.

The author has demonstrated a passion for language, and this book is no exception. The passages on writing of the time are well-written, and particularly entertaining when discussing sub-par poetry of the time.

Aside from the geology that surrounds the story, one of the most captivating accounts is that of how insurance companies reacted. Some defaulted amid squabbling over whether damage was fire or quake related, and these companies reputations suffered (if they even survived). (Lloyd's of London enhanced its reputation considerably by instructing its agents to pay all claims.)

I need not detail the glittering explanations of plate tectonics and earthquake science, of seismic instrument technology. bringing out details inevitably lessens the sense of grandeur and sheer interconnectedness that Mr. Winchester's best sagas convey. A Crack in the Edge of the World is a typical Simon Winchester book - which is to say, fascinating, lots of digressions that turn out to be relevant, and very well written indeed. While not his absolute best work, this book sits closely behind Krakatoa and The Meaning of Everything.

Labels: books

The Colorado River, as seen from the top of the Hoover Dam. More photos to come of our vacation.

Click on the pictures for a larger version and more information.

This was a weekend to remember. I had planned to be doing a weekend of riding in Lamncaster, a metric century and a Bike Forums forst-timme-mmeeting internet folks social ride the day before. A memorable weekend, for certain crappy values of memorable...

On Friday, I left the house to pick up Brian and his bike, at his work north of Philadelphia. There was traffic on route 27 as soon as I turned off my block. After spending a half hour travelling 30 miles, I looked up and say that 287 was barely moving; I called Brian and set up for me to meet him the next morning. I called Neil to let him know (Brian and I were meant to meet him at his house) and headed back home.

The next morning, drove to meet Brian, a trip that went without incident. Brian is pretty cool; turns out we have venn-diagram-like semi-overlapping tastes in music. I had a lot of fun driving with him to Neil's.

On Saturday afternoon, we all got in the car and drove west to Lancaster. We met up with about a dozed or so Bike Forum folks. For me, this was the first time meeting most of these people. Since we were still waiting for more people, I started to dismount my bike, in the process catching my right foot on the top tube and falling on my ass, in the process twisting my left knee pretty badly.

Of course, I missed the social ride, but I insisted Neil and Brian go ahead and ride. I spent the time sitting in the hotel lobby holding ice on my knee.

When the ride was finished, we went to meet the rest of the Bike Forum people in a Ruby Tuesdays. To make a long story short, we were in the wrong Ruby Tuesdays. Silly me, I assumed the one closest to the hotel was where they would meet.

I also missed the Lancaster ride the next day, hanging out in Neil's house for the day. Around noon, Neil called me that Brian had hurt his foot and was out of the race. He mentioned that Brian had been picked up by the SAG wagon (SAG wagons are support crew for organized rides like these) and was with the ambulance. He called me back later and told me Brian was okay.

Reading through the forums now, I'm pretty depressed about the weekend. Brian is incredibly cool, and it's always good to see Neil, but I missed out on a weekend I've been looking forward to for months. My usual cure for the blahs is to go ride my bike, but that's not an option until my knee heals.

A great start to my week of vacation.

Labels: bike, whining

Neil B. talked me into doing a 50 mile club ride this weekend, the Brandywine Dog Daze in Westchester County, PA.

We were originally meaning to do local riding by his house, to train for next week's Lancaster Century, which is also very hilly. But Neil wanted to show oif his new hybrid bike, and he is faster; he dropped me twice, and finished the course a few minutes ahead of me.

I made decent time on the new tires, but I ended up walking my bike up the steeper hills. I like the speed I'm getting out of them, although I miss the control of knobby "mountain" tires.

Here's a map of the course. (I forgot my camera, and have no pictures.)

Labels: bike, neilsonwheels

Over the Hills, by David Lamb

Wanting to travel across America on a bicycle could strike many as an incomprehensible desire. Over the Hills is a memoir of a middle-aged journalist's 3000-mile afternoon ride. The book is well-written, fun to read, and strikes an excellent balance between travelogue, personal memoir, and barely disguised worship of middle America's relaxed way of life.

The author is decidedly not part of bicycling culture. He wore ordinary-looking clothing on his trip, ate in ordinary diners and truck stops, and stayed in ordinary hotel rooms, with his bike standing by the side of the bed. Mr. Lamb is very much a character in his own story.

I'm not sure whether it's that the writing got better after the first few slower chapters, or that I grew to appreciate the style as I read. The latter slow acclimation would be particularly appropriate. Highly recommended to cyclists and considerate cagers alike.

Labels: america, bike, books, journalism, notbike