Shelfari scores one for technology

Do you know about a thing called “Shelfari”? It’s this . . . what is it? I’m not sure what to call it, but my son’s girlfriend, Katie, sent me an invitation to join her group of Shelfari friends, so I did. Once in, I got to show what I am currently reading, and I also listed some of my all-time favorite books, such as Waiting for the Morning Train, by Bruce Catton. I get to see what others are reading, too. It’s fascinating. Have you ever heard of a book called, The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body, by Steven Mithen? Just read the description you get when you click on the image of the book cover:

“The propensity to make music is the most mysterious, wonderful, and neglected feature of humankind: this is where Steven Mithen began, drawing together strands from archaeology, anthropology, psychology, neuroscience--and, of course, musicology--to explain why we are so compelled to make and hear music. But music could not be explained without addressing language, and could not be accounted for without understanding the evolution of the human body and mind. Thus Mithen arrived at the wildly ambitious project that unfolds in this book: an exploration of music as a fundamental aspect of the human condition, encoded into the human genome during the evolutionary history of our species.

Music is the language of emotion, common wisdom tells us. In The Singing Neanderthals, Mithen introduces us to the science that might support such popular notions.”

I would LOVE to take a good look at this book. I dream of a time soon when I will be able to read for pleasure. No matter how ubiquitous technology becomes, a beautifully sung phrase and a well-written sentence will still be the stopper for humanity.

Be that as it may, I went snooping about Shelfari and noticed an offer to put my shelf on my blog. Hmm, I thought, that would be interesting; I wonder if I can do it - I’d like to share Shelfari. So I followed the directions, (which mentioned a widget), and, voila! It was easy. Three book images from my shelf in Shelfari transferred to the left-hand margin below my profile and blog archive, so people who read my blog can catch a glimpse of what I have been reading lately or what I cherish from past reading. I know that someone had to do a lot of coding to make that transfer happen. I can see Joe and Todd doing something like that. I appreciate it because Shelfari makes me want to read. That’s a good thing, because when I read or even, catch a whiff of a good read, I begin to envision life beyond the status quo.

Tonight as I relaxed with Shabbos candles, I let myself dream about the future. I saw myself with a good job and benefits in a pleasant living space with a baby grand in the living room. I saw myself playing Chopin and Scott Joplin. I saw myself with time to read. I saw other people living with me -- foreign exchange students or Iraqi refugees. The debacle in Iraq is such a disaster! George Bush reminds me of Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby. After he plays his power games, the rest of us will have to pick up the pieces and put the world together again. I know that I am only a tiny pebble in a mountain of pebbles, but I am ready to do what I can to fix the mess that has been created in Iraq by using force to resolve conflict.

I like tonight’s vision. I appreciate Shelfari triggering it. I resist, however, getting bogged down in internet reading. I must admit, though, that learning about Shelfari has been a literacy shot in the arm. Shelfari is another example of the power of the internet to connect people and thought. Social networking – that’s what it’s called. Even if I don’t read the books I see on others’ shelves, just salivating over them stimulates my mind and makes me wonder. This happened to me as I grew up in a house so full of books, you got educated just by looking at the titles and imagining what they meant and what the books contained -- e.g., The Greening of America, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Bell Jar, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Catcher in the Rye, Across Five Aprils, The Cruel Sea. The miraculous thing about a good read/good title is that it can elevate instantly, the way the hint of a good read caused me to glimpse myself in a place I long to secure.

I wonder if I will get there. And if I do, I wonder if contentment will translate into dullness and cause me to eat and sleep and get fatter, as Eugene O'Neill said: "One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers." Unless one gets lobotomized, though, sorrow and joy will always find their way into any contented state. Seeing as O’Neill drank himself to death rather than yield to or trust in the contentment of home, I think I’ll give contentment a chance. And I will give technology a chance – but in good measure.