I use the phrase ["modern liberalism"] merely to mean the latest stage of the liberalism that has been growing in the West for at least two and a half centuries, and probably longer. Nor does this suggest that I think liberalism was always a bad idea. So long as it was tempered by opposing authorities and traditions, it was a splendid idea. It is the collapse of those tempering forces that has brought us to a triumphant modern liberalism with all the cultural and social degradation that follows in its wake. If you do not think "modern liberalism" an appropriate name, substitute "radical liberalism" or "sentimental liberalism" or even, save us, "post-modern liberalism." Whatever name is used, most readers will recognize the species.

The difference between the music produced by Tin Pan Alley and rap is so stark that it is misleading to call them both music. Rock and rap are utterly impoverished by comparison with swing or jazz or any pre-World War II music, impoverished emotionally, aesthetically, and intellectually. Rap is simply unable to express tenderness, gentleness, or love. Neither rock nor rap can begin to approach the complicated melodies of George Gershwin, Irving Berlin, or Cole Porter. Nor do their lyrics display any of the wit of Ira Gershwin, Porter, Fats Waller, or Johnny Mercer. The bands that play this music lack even a trace of the musicianship of the bands led by Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, and many others of that era.

This kind of language coming from a shock-jock or person paid to to incite people and provoke false controversy would not be surprising. But I am extremely happy that his nomination to the Supreme Court of the United States was rejected. If he had written this book before then, perhaps the debate about his nomination would have been more honest and productive.

Six Degrees: The Science of a Connected Age, Duncan J. Watts
A good introduction to network science, with the chatty (and incongruously hunky—the cover photo does not look like a scientist) narrator giving glimpses along the way into how and why research happens. Covers basic taxonomies of networks (e.g., small world networks, scale-free networks) and then moves into dynamics (propagation, cascades, etc). The most important insight, for me, was a mathematical argument that successful cascades (when a thing, such as a disease or new song or the desire to purchase a product, suddenly and unpredictably moves from one small corner of a network to take over the whole thing) have more to do with the network than with the thing itself. It's not exactly a refutation of the "great men" theory of history, in which the characteristics of individuals are taken to have necessarily shaped the course of history. A direct refutation, I think, would say that, for instance, the end of slavery in the US was inevitable around the 1860s, and if Lincoln hadn't been the specific person to lead the change, someone else would have popped up. Cascade theory doesn't say that. It says that there are a number of different systemic changes that could have happened, and the characteristics that made Lincoln great were necessary but not sufficient for Lincoln to be a towering historical figure. But his career, and the end of slavery, appear inevitable in hindsight but were probably nothing but—other outcomes were equally or more possible.

Or, more mundanely, there are dozens of new consumer products hitting the market every year and while some can be accurately judged failures ahead of time because of their faults, many products are candidates for breakout success but random chance will determine that, say, the iPod will be the one. Anyway, it was a good book.

Stealing the Elf-King's Roses, Diane Duane
Starts out as an intriguing genre-bender: sci-fi/fantasy/detective story. But as it progresses it turns into a generic Diane Duane novel with familiar characters and a huge, cosmological, touchy-feely ending that feels stamped from the same template as, say, any of her early Star Trek novels. Much as I like elements of her writing, she seems to produce much stronger novels when co-writing. Even as escapist pulp, this was a bit disappointing.

Doomfarers of Coramonde, Brian Daley
The first novel of a very talented hack (and I mean that as a compliment here), it shows many rough edges in pacing, artlessly shifting points of view, and a desperately deus ex machina ending. Most of the elements of solid genre fiction are already in place, however, and it's not out of place in Daley's bibliography of entertaining, well-written, human stories.

Brian Daley is probably most famous for writing the Star Wars Trilogy radio adaptations, or for being half of the Jack McKinney pseudonym which wrote the Robotech novels. He died of cancer in the mid-nineties. Anthony Daniels' tribute, including the script of a tape the radio drama cast recorded for him but which was completed days or hours too late for Daley to hear, is certainly enough to water the eyes.