A Lost Art (One More on Dictionaries)

In addition to the mighty Oxford English Dictionary, Excessively Large Edition, I have the comparably tiny, Pocket Oxford Dictionary, which was written by the incomparable Fowler brothers, authors of the still-selling-a-century-later Modern English Usage and The King's English. I can't tell you how many times I've looked up a word in this little book and been delighted by the the definition. Alright. Even I know how weird that sounds, but just listen to this nugget--the beginning of the definition of "Time":

Time, n:

The successive states of the universe regarded as a whole whose every part or moment is before or after every other & position in which is defined in answer to the question, 'when?' ....

That, apart from being very slightly convoluted while at the same time slightly compressed to fit in such a short dictionary, is delightful. (And, you might benefit, as I did, by mentally adding the word "whose" before the word "position" ....)

The Fowlers wrote this dictionary, and it feels written, not compiled. It is possibly one of the last dictionaries to have just a couple authors instead of an editor and a legion of writers. The old dictionaries that are still read today even though their definitions may be obsolete are the ones that have the quality of great (or at least entertaining) writing (you can still enjoy Samuel Johnson's 300 year-old dictionary for this reason). In the Pocket Oxford dictionary, the definitions feel human and very much like something spoken in English (albeit by very smart Englishmen) rather than dryly recorded in a textbook.

Get the Fowler's The King's English new on Amazonor choose from several used copies for a buck each at AbeBooks (an online marketplace for real-world used bookstores). Tough choice, huh?

Old Atlases, Printed Maps

There is another book that I like to put on my music stand (see my previous post on old dictionaries): my old Times Atlas of the World, found in a used bookstore 10 years ago. It's old enough to show a divided Germany, Leningrad-in-the-USSR instead of St. Petersburg-in-Russia, and countless other geo-anachronisms, but oh, is it beautiful to look at. And really, do we care what the politicians say about where the borders are, or whose ego is institutionalized on the city masthead? Yes, ok, sometimes we do need to know such facts. But that's what Internet maps are good at. I am well aware of the other ways that computerized maps and atlases are superior to the soon-to-be obsolete printed variety: they are up-to-date (i.e. -to-the-minute), truly comprehensive, and augmented in infinite ways with personalized layers of meaning (see the history of natural disasters for the city you're visiting, or see where the coffee shops are).

Claims of comprehensiveness and currency in a printed atlas always assume you will buy the latest version, which, if you are buying a nice atlas, may run you a few hundred dollars. And why would you not buy a nice atlas? You can get ugly atlases online. So, my recommendation for the killer combination? A nice old Atlas (cheaper, probably prettier, and still 90% accurate) and the Internet to supplement your old beauty with the latest facts. The picture above, of Oban, in Scotland, is from my old Times atlas (be sure to click on the image to see a bigger version).

I love maps, and love studying maps of a place before, and after, visiting it for real. My introduction to maps was via the topographic maps produced by the United States Geological Survey, used by everyone from soldiers to miners to hikers for navigating in the wilderness. There was a USGS office in Menlo Park, a few miles from where I grew up, so we got to browse the beautiful, poster-sized, four-color maps whenever we wanted. On a trip to my wife's family home in Greece, I visited that country's equivalent of the USGS, the Greek Army Mapping Office. My brother-in-law and I were planning to climb Mt. Olympus, and I also had plans to camp out in the Peloponnese. When I asked for the maps that covered the westernmost finger of that peninsula, the army officer looked at me suspiciously. He fetched his commanding officer and they grilled me: "Why do you want to go there? There is no camping there! What is your business?" I tried to assure them (with the help of my Greek brother-in-law) that I was just going to find a place to put down my bag on the coast and enjoy the sea and stars. They never did give me that map. I forgot about the incident until I was awakened on my hillside perch near Koroni, overlooking the Mediterranean, by what sounded like bombs going off. What had sounded like bombs going off was in fact bombs going off .... Turns out the Greek Air Force likes to practice their aim on the little island of Skhiza, which was just about a mile south of my sleeping bag. I watched jets looping and dropping bombs for an hour. No wonder the army guy was suspicious.

Since I can't show the map with Skhiza on it (ahem) ... here is my Greek Army Map of Cape Tenaron, about 40 miles southwest of my camping spot near Koroni. Maybe nothing is as interesting as being woken up by jets dropping bombs at the foot of your sleeping bag, but the topo map below shows the tip of the Mani Peninsula, itself a very interesting place: in the cove near the southern end, surrounded by wind-torn, razor-sharp white rock and ancient ruins, is the cave of Tenaron, the mythical entrance to Hades.



Strangely, USGS topo maps were the thing that reignited my interest in computers, after many years of abstinence: in the mid-nineties, a San Francisco company, Wildflower Productions (now owned by National Geographic), was scanning all the topographic maps for the United States, in various scales, digitally stitching them together, and adding tools for searching and customizing. When I first got a look at their product on the shelves at REI where I worked, I called the company and asked them what I needed in my new computer (the one I didn't have yet) to run their product. At the time, I didn't care what else the computer could do.

I still have a soft spot for this product because it's based on pictures of real maps, made to be held in your hand. The computerized version allows me to look at topo maps for anywhere in the country, and of course you can't own that many printed maps. I understand how computers add value here. But I still say printed maps and atlases are so much more beautiful and satisfying to hold. And they provide much the same opportunity for serendipitous discovery that a printed dictionary does, as I detailed in my previous post. The maps in my world atlas are produced by the famous John Bartholomew & Son cartographers in the UK. Their maps, especially the old, hand-lettered ones, are so pretty to look at, and so clear. Am I repeating myself?



If you can afford the already-obsolete current edition of the Times World Atlas (obsolete, because world atlases go out-of-date about as fast as newspapers these days), here is a link to the Twelfth Edition of the Times Comprehensive Atlas of the World. But my strong recommendation is to search your local used bookstore for an older version, if only for the joy of the maps.

Old Dictionaries, Old Meanings

I use the dictionary on my laptop daily, usually to check whether I am using a word correctly. But I'm missing out when I don't use my bookshelf dictionaries. My favorites are the old Oxford dictionaries: I have several in various sizes. In 1990, I joined the Book of the Month Club for the sole purpose of getting a free copy of the two volume Compact Oxford English Dictionary, that miracle of mid 20th century publishing that shrunk 13 volumes containing all the words of the English language (at the time of the original publication, circa 1930)) down to two massive volumes. It had four of the original pages printed on each page, and it came with a magnifying glass. I often have one of these volumes on a music stand by my desk, where I can refer to it easily. The music stand is very strong.

I know that my OED is outdated. The latest version, the Second Edition of the OED, is twenty volumes and may be the last version to be printed: the English language is growing too fast, and somehow it's easier to admit such additions to the language as, "aerobicized", "celebutante", and "blog", if they will never be bound in a book. Yes, I will always use computers for research: there is just no way for any library to replicate what a computer can do, let alone a personal library. And yet, there is no way for any computer to fully replicate the experience of looking at a page in a book.

Some years ago, I was invited to co-teach a class on "Passion" in my church. I knew the reason my pastor had chosen the topic: to inspire excitement and commitment for the faith. One of the first things I did, even before looking at scripture, was to open my OED and look the word up. I was surprised (as was the group of people gathered for the class) to learn that the principal definition of the word, as listed in the OED, was "to suffer", and that the principal historical usage was specifically in reference to the suffering of Christ on the cross (Mel Gibson's movie had not yet come along to restore the context for the word). Suffering is an aspect of passion entirely lost in modernity.

Here is the first definition offered up when I type "passion" into my computer's dictionary:

passion |ˈpa sh ən|
noun
1 strong and barely controllable emotion : a man of impetuous passion. See note at emotion .
• a state or outburst of such emotion : oratory in which he gradually works himself up into a passion.
• intense sexual love : their all-consuming passion for each other | she nurses a passion for Thomas.
• an intense desire or enthusiasm for something : the English have a passion for gardens.
• a thing arousing enthusiasm : modern furniture is a particular passion of Bill's.

Barely controllable emotion? An outburst? Sex? Are the English really only passionate about gardens? These are the things that pass for passion in our anemic society. When we hear the word passion today, we mainly imagine the strong desires that precede and accompany sex. What a rip off. Not sex, mind you, just that the feelings associated with sex have become the marker for love between two people when in fact (and in history) the thing that really inspires love is when a person is willing to suffer (even die) for another. Am I worth suffering for? Can I inspire such abandon? Sex is not passion. Real passion, if you ever see it today, is a thing that can bring two people together and keep them together for a lifetime. Sex may result.

My computer dictionary fails me here. But my computer dictionary doesn't only fail in the way it defines the word; it fails by only telling me what it thinks I want to know. My OED, on the other hand reveals many more layers of meaning than I can grasp, simply because it's all there for discovering on the printed page. For all the hype around computer hypertext, links only work when someone thinks to include them. My computer dictionary only displays the definition of the word I typed in, and nothing else. On the other hand, when I looked up the entry for "passion" in the OED, I could see a whole community of words related to my original search, just by letting my eye wander. What did I discover? That the word "passive", just down the page, comes from the same Latin root as "passion" and has the same root meaning: to suffer. This opened up a whole world of meaning to me, and to the students in that class. Two kinds of suffering: one active, chosen, intentional, and accepted; another experienced because of a choice not to act. Beautiful. This is precisely the kind of thing that makes me love language. My daughter is coming under the influence also.



When I worked as the senior writer for a tech company (our first product was a search engine, launched around the same time Google launched theirs ... look up "bad timing" in the dictionary of your choice), the first thing I asked for was a dictionary for my empty bookshelf. None of the young, Internet-savvy executives understood why I wanted a book. I think I told them I preferred the feel of real paper to using my computer as a reference tool. I might also have made some attempt to convince them that the printed dictionary was superior, or at least that it was more reliable (in 1999) than the on-line lexicons. They might have reconsidered whether I was suited to working at an Internet company, but they bought me the dictionary. Years later, I smiled when I read that one of Google's first writers had the identical interaction with his bosses when he came to work: his insistence on using a printed dictionary; their disbelief that anyone still did. This may be the only thing my old company (now defunct) had in common with Google.

These days, it might make sense to describe me as passionate about the OED, about printed books, about old stuff. But I don't know. Am I willing to suffer or die for these things I'm writing about? Maybe not. It's closer to the truth to say that I don't want to suffer the result of passively embracing so-called technological advances that slowly erode the meaning of things.

Cartier-Bresson Has My Back

When I wrote below about flash-lit photography being overwhelming and even aggressive, I felt a little out on a limb. I have no desire to take any of it back, but I wondered if, in quoting Henri Cartier-Bresson, I had been a bit aggressive with his ideas. Whatever my philosophy of flash light on cameras, it appears that I have no problem with overwhelming prose.

But then I read the following words, taken from the same book: "If, in making a portrait, you hope to grasp the interior silence of a willing victim, it's very difficult, but you must somehow position the camera between his shirt and skin." (Emphasis mine.)

Apart from the humorous and wonderful picture of the intimacy required to capture the "interior silence" of a person, I am struck by his reference to the "willing victim". There is something to think about! So many moderns continue to regard the camera as something that can capture their soul (you can tell because they shrink and shy and scurry away when you point it at them ... maybe such people are unsure of the state of their souls? What will the photograph reveal?), and some photographers still believe it too, fearing to take something that has not been offered willingly (maybe they are right to fear).

A photographer has to come to a peaceful agreement with their subjects. "They" have to become a willing victim, and you in turn have to promise not to abuse them (by shooting when their mouths are full, or whatever). But the camera still captures something and then "it" ceases to be free. My idea that a kind of violence may happen when a picture is taken is sustained, and I still believe that the flash on most cameras is the guilty of the biggest crimes.

More Homemade Stuff - Not Just For Hippies

If Panasonic were to make a lens hood for my LX3 digital camera, it would probably cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $50. All the accessories for this camera are ridiculously expensive.


I wanted a way to protect my little camera from the rain and ended up with a perfect lens hood in the bargain, for about 2 dollars and a half-hour of work. The project was featured on instructables.com (where you can read about the benefits of the hood, and the process of customizing a $2 piece of plumbing for my high-end digicam):

Digital Lens Hood / Rain Hood on instructables.com

One of a number of clearing houses for the DIY set, instructables.com is a great place to find elegant (or funky) ways to solve any problem you can think of, usually for cheap or free, from recycled or otherwise lowtech stuff. Make Magazine (and their Web space and blog) also features daily projects for solving problems in ways that will save you lots of money and give you lots of low-tech satisfaction: solve a problem by making something and you are beating a socioeconomic system that only knows how to offer prepackaged, mass-produced solutions for high prices.

Another Nice Steel Knife

It doesn't have any special technology for quick deployment of the blade when under attack from a mountain lion, nor does it have a fiberglass-reinforced nylon handle. It will never be featured on the late-night knife collectors show on the Home Shopping Channel (where Rambo meets samurai meets ninja).

This Opinel, which comes in many sizes (but few variations on the basic hardwood handle), has a beautiful, razor-sharp, carbon-steel blade, of the kind I have written about recently. It has an ingenious locking ring that twists to keep the blade open. It's light and gorgeous and I've never broken one, though I've owned several and used them for everything from picnics to backpacking. The #8 Opinel costs only $10 today. Amazing. When I was young, the Early Winters backpacking catalog gave these away with your order. Me and my buddy Randy used to laugh at the guys who brought "Rambo" knives up into the wilderness ... probably because we remembered doing it too when we were young. But you only make that mistake once: too heavy, too expensive, too much. Unless you hunt Elk, all you need is a sharp, short blade for cutting your salami, cleaning trout, and trimming rope.

I'll make an allowance for the Swiss Army knife or Leatherman, if you need extra tools (screwdrivers for campstoves, scissors for first aid, can openers for your peaches, corkscrew for ... well for untying wet knots of course), but I would always carry one of these no matter what because it's so light and elegant. When I read on the Opinel Website that shepherds decorated their Opinels by burning designs into the wood handles, I had try it. My wife was not impressed.

Henri Cartier-Bresson on Natural Light

On respecting the natural state of things, by legendary photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson: "It is essential, therefore, to approach the subject on tiptoe - even if the subject is a still-life. A velvet hand, a hawk's eye - these we should all have. ... And no photographs taken with the aid of flash-light either, if only out of respect of the natural light - even when there isn't any of it. Unless a photographer observes such conditions as these, he may become an intolerably aggressive character."*

To deny myself the convenience of flash lighting in a photograph, even when there is no light! Cartier-Bresson would rather that I lose the picture than use a technique that is so disrespectful to natural light. Using a flash in darkness, I may get the picture, but I've taken it by force, impatiently. And, perhaps I have violated a natural law, in the same way that artificial light has virtually eliminated the natural human rhythm of sleep-when-the-sun-goes-down and rise-when-the-sun-comes-up.

For the creative photographer who chooses with a purpose, flash-light now has the effect of invoking a photojournalistic quality (in which the flash is required to catch a fleeting, news-worthy moment). But it is not a natural quality; is not at all the way we see people. Natural light is three-dimensional and alive. It comes from multiple sources: the sunlight that shines on the left side of our subject also reflects off of other surfaces in the space, creating a complex interplay of light - a world of light. Flash-light principally shoots directly from the camera into the face of our subject like we are the source of illumination and they are the victim of a kind of egocentric, photographic super-nova. The flash forces the camera itself to become the source of light--an unnatural arrangement. Subjects become two-dimensional and evenly, eerily lit, without shadows to give depth ... only a sharp black line along one edge to indicate the offset of the flash from the lens.

It reminds me of one of the ways that fighter pilots gain the advantage in a dogfight, by getting between the sun and their adversary. The sunlight blinds the other pilot, who will not be able to see the aggressor in the glare. Flashes on cameras have a similar effect, that of disorienting a subject and putting them on the defensive - after the POP of the flash, the subject blinks and staggers, waiting to adjust to the dark again. If the photographer were a spy, taking a portrait of their enemy, now would be the moment to strike.

Where a photograph taken in natural light can be like a gift given by the subject with the help of the sun or lamp, and received by the camera on behalf of the photographer. Flash-light is something more like the artistic version of an act of overwhelming force.


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*p. 28, The Mind's Eye: Writings on Photography and Photographers. See picture books and others by and about Cartier-Bresson at Amazon.

I found my copy of The Mind's Eye in the photography section at one of my local used bookstores, Book Buyers, a clean, well-stocked shop in Mountain View, California. It's a good bookstore and would only be improved by a few places to sit. And maybe less fluorescent light.