The memories of friends and loved ones who die become unchained and malleable with their absence. At least this was the case prior to photographs, film, then video, then digital video. You may have thousands of hours of audio-visual material of a person after they have gone. These significant and even interactive touchstones keep our memories peculiarly fresh. Watching videos of someone close after their death is truly discombobulating.

I suspect that in the years to come, there may well develop a new psychological condition around this strange and haunting place. To some extent we’ve been experiencing this mental place with celebrity deaths for years. People we’ve become so familiar with over the years, that they ’seem’ to be friends - yet the TV series rolls on, the books are reprinted and the interviews are replayed.

We, Kirsty and I, never knew Christopher Hitchens the man, and we haven’t even read all of his work - just three books between us, a dozen or so essays and of course we’ve seen numerous videos of him online. So whilst we can’t say that we loved him like a close friend or relative, losing him still feels akin to that type of loss. His presence in our lives to some extent won’t change, due to the thousands of hours of video and twice as many lines of his writing but his commentary on what is happening here and now will be missing; his crucial absence in debate will be the mammoth in the room; and there will be no new book to shake the editors of news headlines out of their complacency.

He made you think. Really think. In a world experiencing as rapid change as ours, this really could not be more important. He, and others like him: Carl Sagan, Bertrand Russell, David Attenborough, AC Grayling, were the intellectual motivation behind our setting up Embiggen Books in the first place, which has been the biggest commitment and most positive thing we, as a couple or as individuals, after having our baby, have ever done. A business set up to celebrate and promote big ideas and critical thinking, something that Hitch himself embodied.

Now, we were going to have a little gathering with others who enjoyed his work at The Moat, but unfortunately the timing, like death often is, is bad for this fledgling small business. So we are left only with these brief words of respect.
Links to 3 others who wrote about him who did know him.
http://bnreview.barnesandnoble.com/t5/In-the-Margin/A-C-Grayling-on-Christopher-Hitchens/ba-p/6487
http://www.samharris.org/blog/item/hitch/
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/dec/16/christopher-hitchens-appreciation-by-ian-mcewan

And of course a video of the man himself:

Alom Shaha

Growing up in a strict Muslim community, Alom Shaha  learnt that religion was not to be questioned. Reciting  the Qur’an without understanding it was simply a  part of life; so, too, was obeying the imam, praying  to a god he wasn’t sure existed, and enduring beatings  when he failed to attend the local mosque. Yet Shaha  was drawn to science and its power to illuminate.  As a teen, he lived between two worlds: the home  controlled by his authoritarian father, and a school  alive with books and ideas.

In a charming blend of memoir, philosophy, and  science, Shaha explores questions about faith and the  afterlife that we all ponder. This is a book for anyone  who thinks about what they should believe and how  they should live; for those who may need the facts,  as well as the courage, to break free from inherited  beliefs. In this powerful narrative, Shaha shows that  it is possible to live a compassionate, fulfilling, and  meaningful life without God.

As a little taster as to what you might expect from his coming talk at The Wheeler Centre and in the book itself, we’ve reprinted with permission an article by Alom that appeared in The Guardian Online in the UK.

No, I don’t believe in God

Alom Shaha, The Guardian, Comment is Free, Saturday 5 June 2010

I am an atheist. I imagine that the typical Cif belief reader may not think this is a particularly big deal, but it is for me, because I’m not just an atheist – I’m an apostate from Islam. Apparently there are people who would happily kill me for making such a statement. But I’m not expecting to be killed, or even threatened; despite what the BNP and certain elements of the press might want you to think, the overwhelming majority of Muslims are not rabid fundamentalists who respond with violence to every perceived slight.

It’s not easy “coming out” like this. Yes, this is a term that is usually applied to people declaring their homosexuality, but there are parallels which justify its use in this context – especially if you come from the kind of background I have.

Open displays of racism were acceptable

I grew up on a council housing estate in the Elephant and Castle, an area of London notorious for crime and poverty. My family was one of a large wave of Bangladeshi families who emigrated to the UK in the early 1970s. It was a horrid time to be a young Bangladeshi in Britain – a time when pubs displayed signs saying “no Blacks, no Irish, no dogs”, and violent racism was rife. We got used to the shouts of “go back home you dirty pakis”, and lived in fear of physical abuse ranging from being spat at to being beaten up on the street. In these circumstances, it’s not surprising that the Bangladeshi community was a close-knit and insular one.

It was not only our shared experiences as immigrants that unified us, but also our shared religion. Islam was the religion that defined many of my cultural experiences as I was growing up and it is the religion of all those “aunts” and “uncles” who will be so disappointed if they ever read this.

For many of the people I grew up with, being a Bangladeshi is inseparable from being a Muslim. The same is true of many of the Bangladeshi students I teach, as evidenced by a conversation I seem to have at least once a year with new students:

Bangladeshi Student (clearly excited and a little proud at encountering their first Bangladeshi teacher): “Are you from Bangladesh, sir?”

Me: “Yes.”

Student: “You must be a Muslim then.”

Me: “No, I’m an atheist.”

Student (now a little bewildered and visibly disappointed): “But you’re from Bangladesh, you must be a Muslim.”

I tell my students the truth, but I haven’t been so straight with the other Muslims in my life. This is an attempt to fix that. However, this is no dramatic renouncement of Islam, no attack on Islam of the sort the that some people seem to get such a hard-on for. I’m just someone whose education and life experiences have brought me to the conclusion that there probably isn’t a god and that I can live a perfectly happy, moral life without practicing any form of religion. Just as people who are gay don’t have a choice about it, I don’t think I have a choice about being an atheist – I suspect I am somehow predisposed to be a non-believer and am grateful that I’ve been fortunate enough to live in a country where I can openly express that non-belief.

Once these words are published, there’s no turning back for me, there’s no more pretending or avoiding the issue with friends and family – some of whom will be hurt and feel insulted by what I write here, some will be disappointed and genuinely concerned that I am sabotaging the future of my eternal soul, and a few will be outraged and disgusted at the thought of having anything to do with an infidel, a kafir. But my oldest, closest friends, the boys I went to primary school with, the boys I still hang out with pretty much every Friday night, the boys I consider brothers, already know I’m an atheist, just as they’d probably have known if I was gay.

It’s not for them I’ve written this piece, it’s not for my “uncles” or “aunts” either – in many ways I’d rather they didn’t read it. I’d like to say that I’ve written this as a call to action, to encourage others like me to come out as atheists. But that would be far too grand an ambition. No, the truth is that I’ve written this for the same reason so many of us tweet or blog these days: to confirm to myself, and to let others know, that we are not alone.

January’s science night is brought to us by marine scientist Matt McArthur. RSVP a must 9662 2062.

Diving with the Kiwis among the Penguins

I’d harboured amitions to work in Antarctica for as long as I’d understood that a frozen continent lay to our south. In 2004, through a combination of dumb luck and determination, I finally found myself with the skills and the contacts necessary to be granted a place in a University of Otago research programme examining the effects of UV light on marine invertebrate larvae under the sea-ice around Ross Island. Flown to McMurdo Sound by the USAF, housed in the Antartica New Zealand run Scott Base, and equipped with all the mod cons a cold water dive team could wish for, we had a pretty rosy time of it compared to the pioneering divers of the area in spite of our dive site being just shy of the furthest south ever used.

Photo: Mat McArthur ©

Machinery straight out of Thunderbirds, gin clear water with visibility in the hundreds of metres, Weddell seals visiting the dive hut, skuas circling to see if my afternoon nap was terminal, penguins nicking stones from one anothers’ nests our summer visits to the ice fulfilled my ambitions without requiring that I endure any of the sea-sickness, man-hauling or scurvy so prevalent in the area just a century before.

Photo: Matt McArthur©

The presentation takes in the history of human activity on Ross Island and its key role in many of the most exciting and most disastrous chapters of human endeavour in the Antarctic, the challenges of diving in - 2 deg C water, the marine life below the sea ice and the evolutionary outcomes of the area’s glacial history, and the methods and findings of the project in which we were engaged.

Bio: Matt McArthur

Matt turned a childhood interest in snorkeling into a way to pay the bills when his desired career in aviation was made impossible by colour vision issues.  Severe seasickness threatened to curtail the new endeavour, but bloody minded resentment of his own body had taken hold by this point and he refused to give in to its demands. His career in marine science has led him to travel and work in many exotic locations, to examine organisms rarely considered and never before seen, and to vomit copiously.
Matt met his wife Tarius, also a marine biologist, over a struggling octopus they were trying to get back into an aquarium.  Their two children are being encouraged to take up plumbing for the job security and the relative riches it offers.

Russell Blackford

In his new book, Freedom of Religion and the Secular State, Russell Blackford argues that religious freedom is more than a crude quid pro quo arrangement – “We won’t persecute you if you don’t persecute us.” Instead, it goes to the heart of what we think state power is really for. Do we think it’s to give citizens spiritual guidance, or is the state an essentially secular institution? That question lies at the heart of many intransigent hot-button issues that cause so much angst in current societies. What, if anything, should we do about the burqa? Should anti-religious satire be allowed? Should our laws enforce religious notions of morality – as with abortion restrictions, attacks on gay rights, and opposition to stem-cell research? Dr. Blackford proposes a way ahead that should be acceptable to most religious people, as well as to non-believers.

Embiggen Books is proud to be launching this important new book by one of Australia’s most important philosophers and commentators. Please RSVP to events (at) embiggenbooks (dot) com or call 9662 2062 or even drop in to the shop in person.

Machine Man by Max Barry

I don’t write many reviews. I read 1-2 books a week and run a bookshop 6-7 days a week, so my time is somewhat limited. However, I’m hoping to write a lot more reviews as our business settles into Melbourne. Normally I read nonfiction, but recently three novels found their way into my list: The Book of Rachel by Leslie Cannold, Glissando by David Musgrave and Machine Man by Max Barry. They were all excellent and I feel compelled to write about each of them, but I’m starting with Machine Man because the main character and I share significant notions about our bodies.

Machine Man by Max Barry

Twenty years ago I had an accident. I was in the gym. I went to the gym almost every day. I was strong and fit. I used to squat with hundreds of pounds on the bar resting on my shoulders. That day I was doing just that when a fellow gym user squeezed past me in the cramped London gym and clipped the bar with his arm as he went past. The heavy bar started to rotate as I lifted up from the squat position and my spine unzipped itself. I heard an explosion, though no one else did. Others saw me lower the bar slowly and quietly to the safety cage. The pain filled my skin and it mostly didn’t leave for many months. I didn’t walk properly for quite some time and couldn’t do things like: sleep properly, hold a coffee cup or wash myself. Any movement I made turned ‘me’ into pain. Several years later I stopped seeing osteopaths and physios and was mostly back to normal as long as I didn’t get so strong that the muscular spasms caused me problems.

My plastic brain (on which there’s great info to be had in Ramachandran’s Phantoms in the Brain) had taught my muscles to spasm for a whole host of reasons that I’m still learning about even now. Every day since this life changing moment, one thing has echoed like a klaxon in my mind: Why in the name of all that is sane and rational can’t I have a new back? This ‘intelligently designed’ meat-version is so very, very stupid. So you could say I ‘understand’ Charlie Neumann, the person through whom the story of Machine Man unfolds. Charlie is a man who finds the limitations of modern medical responses to physical recovery too primitive and even inhumane. Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for the reader of Barry’s book, Dr Neumann is far more brilliant than I.

The first thing to say about Machine Man is that it is laugh-out-loud funny. It is, in the words of my partner who hasn’t yet read it: “Shut up will you? I’m trying to read my book too.”  The humour describes the ground between Neumann (the engineer/scientist with more than a touch of asperger’s about him) and the rest of the world. And by ‘the rest of the world’ I mean everything outside of his brain. The classic philosophical mind-body split is given a 21st century makeover here and describes how we may end up if Kurzweil’s singularity theory proves to be as prescient as many hope.
From the moment we meet Neumann, we know that his relationship with technology is a little more intense than for most of us. It’s clear, that for him, his biology is an impediment to being better — at everything that matters. Of course, living in the world and being human, for him, is not much more than being functional and efficient in tasks. There are people in his world however who drag him him into the messy, uncomfortable and highly stimulating world of human social interaction. These come in the form of some of his lab assistants, his bosses, and the perfectly named Lola Shanks, the person assigned to fit and train him in the use of his hospital prosthesis. These two aspects of Neumann’s life are further embedded in that of big business, adding another layer of complexity to the mechanized perfection he seeks. Did I say big business? Make that huge business. Huge, though not faceless business, in a company part of town.

As Machine Man unfolds, Neumann, like any good engineer, wants to upgrade his initial prosthetic improvements. As anybody who has upgraded the software on their computer knows, upgrades come with quirks, bugs and learning curves. When the upgrades are connected to flesh, bone and nerve and have the ability to hurl you hundreds of feet into the air or kick through concrete walls, these become a little more … interesting. Especially when one such quirk appears to be the ‘wilfulness’ of the new component. The question mark that hangs over this possibility, as Neumann tries to work out whether or not he’s worried about it, creates a beautifully dark tension in a story filled with them.

Neumann’s employers, Better Futures, very quickly realise the military potential of Neumann’s work, and this provides much of the pacing and action in the book. How he, and his various new parts, deal with the runaway freight train of the consequences of every choice he makes, provides the reader a strangely moving and very human story.

So other than those who have had a life changing accident,who is this book for? If you mix Kurt Vonnegut and Sirens of Titan with Neal Stephenson and Snow Crash with sprinkles of Gore Vidal and Live from Golgotha and a large spoonful of Ed Neumeier writer of Robocop you’ll get something approaching Machine Man. Except it’s funnier and smarter and darker and more moving than such a literary collage might suggest. Suffice to say, I highly recommend this work and all by Max Barry — a writer headed for very big things indeed.

Max Barry speaking at Embiggen Books a few weeks ago.

Max Barry - Machine Man from Embiggen Books on Vimeo.

Michael O’Connell: The Lost Modernist

Michael O'Connor

An invitation to the book launch of Michael O’Connell: The Lost Modernist by Harriet Endquist 6.00pm Tuesday November 29th 2011. RSVP to events at embiggenbooks dot com or call us on  03 9662 2062, or drop in and leave your name.

Michael O’Connell: The Lost Modernist is a beautifully produced book that documents the life and work of this major figure in Anglo- Australian design history.

Born in Cumbria in 1898 Michael O’Connell saw action on the Western Front in WWI before moving to Australia in 1920. Over the following 17 years he became a critical member of the burgeoning Modernist movement in Melbourne primarily through his innovative and dynamic textiles. First exhibited in 1930 his hand blockprinted fabrics revolutionised Australian textile design, which at the time was an entirely amateur affair, and laid the foundations of its future development. On his return to the UK in 1937, O’Connell became a key figure in contemporary textile design, producing fabrics for Edinburgh Weavers in 1938 and then for Heals during the 1940s and 1950s.

Great work well ahead of its time.

He was involved in a number of progressive government-initiated projects for schools and public institutions in the optimistic years of post-war Britain, including the celebrated wall hangings for the Country Pavilion at the Festival of Britain in 1951. During the 1960s until his death in 1976 O’Connell kept pace with contemporary art practice from his studio-home in Perry Green Hertfordshire, producing large-scale, innovative ‘textile murals’ in his unique combination of batik and resist dyeing. The Lost Modernist illustrates and discusses over 100 works from Australian and British public and private collections within the context of 20th century design history and the framework of O’Connell’s life.

The Author:
Harriet Edquist is professor of Architectural History at RMIT University. She has published extensively on Australian architecture, art and design. Her books include: The Culture of Landscape Architecture (1994); Frederick Romberg: The Architecture of migration 1938- 1975 (2000); Harold Desprowe-Annear: A Life in Architecture (2004); Pioneers of Modernism: The Arts and Crafts Movement in Australia (2008): George Baldessin; Paradox and Persuasion (2009) and Designing Place: An Archaeoligy of the Western District (2010). Harriet is also director of the RMIT Design Archives, a facility that is focused on preserving and researching the heritage of design practices in Melbourne and its region from the twentieth century to the present.

Looking for the Light on the Hill:
modern Labor’s challenges by Troy Bramston

Troy Bramston

6.30pm Wed, November 16 at Embiggen Books 197-203 Lt Lonsdale St, Melbourne 9662 2062 Please RSVP to events at embiggenbooks dot com or call 03 9662 2062.

Today, the Australian Labor Party is in crisis. Reduced to minority government after just one term, and at rock bottom in the opinion polls, the party seems to be at a defining moment in its history. The perception of the federal government is that it can’t deliver, can’t be trusted, can’t communicate what it stands for, and that it is beholden to independents and the Greens. How did it come to this so soon after Labor’s thumping election win in 2007?

Looking for the Light on the Hill argues that Labor is bedevilled by twin problems: the loss of its intrinsic culture of strong, bold, and innovative leadership; and an identity crisis that has emerged because Labor has failed to refresh its values, philosophy, and purpose for the modern era. Written by a party insider and former Rudd government adviser, the book draws on Labor’s history with fresh perspectives, and includes the secret components of the party’s recent internal review. It also includes new interviews with former party leaders, current and former ministers, and union leaders and party figures — and reveals astonishing opinion-poll results, commissioned exclusively for this book, that demonstrate the depth of the crisis.

Challenged by the Greens on the left and the Coalition on the right, Australia’s oldest political party is in real trouble. Looking for the Light on the Hill shows how Labor can get its mojo back with new policy ideas, a new political strategy, organisational reform, and a refreshing of the party’s values. This book couldn’t be more relevant, more timely — or more necessary.

Troy Bramston

Troy Bramston

Troy Bramston has worked as a policy and political adviser in government, opposition, and the private sector. He is a former principal speechwriter for Kevin Rudd and an adviser to the Rudd government.

Bramston now works as a columnist and leader writer with The Australian newspaper, and as a political commentator on Sky News.

Bramston is the editor of a forthcoming collection, For the True Believers: great Labor speeches, editor of The Wran Era (2006), and co-editor of The Hawke Government: a critical retrospective (2003). His feature articles, opinion pieces, and book reviews have been widely published in the nation’s leading newspapers, magazines, and academic journals.

He has been a member of the Labor Party for nearly 20 years, and is a former president of New South Wales Young Labor and a past secretary of the New South Wales branch of the Australian Fabian Society.

Bramston has an economics degree with honours from the University of Sydney, and a master’s degree in politics and international relations from the University of New South Wales.

In 2001, he was awarded the Centenary Medal by the governor-general for his services towards the Centenary of Federation commemorations.

He lives in Sydney and has two children, Madison and Angus.

Acclaimed science fiction author and First Tuesday Bookclub regular Max Barry will be reading from his book at Embiggen Books at 3.00pm Saturday October 29th. Please RSVP: (03) 9662 2062 or on events (at) embiggenbooks (dot) com or even better walk in to the store and let us know in person.

‘Max Barry writes satire so sharp and prescient that sometimes I fear that he is only giving the bad guys more ideas.’ Wil Anderson
‘Just read Machine Man. Too much awesome. Mind. Officially. Blown.’ John Birmingham
‘Max Barry is an outstanding satirical comedy writer, reliably smart and funny. That’s why I hate him.’ Julian Morrow

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Machine Man

When scientist Charles Neumann loses a leg in an industrial accident, it’s not a tragedy. It’s an opportunity.  Charlie always thought his body could be better. His employer, military contractor Better Future, has the resources he needs to explore a few ideas. So he begins to build parts. Better parts. Charlie’s prosthetist, Lola, is impressed by his artificial limbs. But some see him as a madman. Others, a product. Or even a weapon.  Existing at the intersection between mind and body, in the dawn of the age of pervasive technology, Machine Man is a gruesomely funny tale about one man’s quest for the ultimate in self-improvement.

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Max Barry began removing parts at an early age. In 1999, he successfully excised a steady job at tech giant HP in order to upgrade to the more compatible alternative of manufacturing fiction. While producing three novels, he developed the online nation simulation game NationStates, as well as contributing to various open source software projects and developing religious views on operating systems. He did not leave the house much. For Machine Man, Max wrote a website to deliver pages of fiction to readers via e-mail and RSS. He lives in Melbourne, Australia, with his wife and two daughters, and is thirty-eight years old. He uses vi.

www.maxbarry.com

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Contempt of Court

CONTEMPT OF COURT:
Unofficial Voices from the DOGS Australian High Court Case 1981
By Jean Ely

Thursday October 20 2011
6:00 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.
Embiggen Books
197-203 Little Lonsdale St,
Melbourne Phone: (03) 9662 2062

The subject of Contempt of Court is the 1981 challenge in the high court of Australia to the constitutional validity of Commonwealth aid to religious schools. In it Dr Jean Ely explores the documentation, memories and stories of participants in that challenge. Contempt of Court is timely in its release with the Full Bench of the High Court of Australia currently sitting in deliberation in consideration of the Federal funding for the National Chaplaincy Programme. Dr Jean Ely holds degrees from the Universities of Sydney and Queensland, a doctorate from the University of Tasmania and is a graduate in law from Monash University.

SPEAKERS ON THE NIGHT:

ROD QUANTOCK: stand-up comedian and writer.
JOAN COXSEDGE: artist, activist, and a former Victorian Labor politician
MAX WALLACE: author and Director of the Australia New Zealand National Secular Association.

RSVP events (at) embiggenbooks (dot) com

Contempt of Court Book Launch