Well, the Gregory Brothers inevitably beat me to the first musical response to the election results, but I’m not far behind. Speed-written in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, here’s a coy rebuke of the policies that lost the Republicans this election. The world’s most advanced political analysis, distilled down to two minutes. Enjoy!
Well, this seems to be the fall of hexagons. First Super Hexagon, and now…hexaflexagons!
I’m linking you to the most delightful thing I’ve seen all month: this series of absolutely charming videos about, well, hexaflexagons, these remarkable geometric shapes that pop up when you fold strips of paper in interesting ways. Huge kudos to Vi Hart, the hexaflexobsessive creator of these vids. Make sure you also watch Part 2 and the hilarious “Safety Guide”.
This is a great example of the possibilities YouTube has opened up for education. Characters, personalities, shapes, and properties all come across wonderfully, in beautiful color and at breakneck speed. It’s an extremely compelling introduction to a subject that could have been totally forbidding, and it’s especially well-suited to students with internet sensibilities. Teachers, take note. THIS is what visual aids can do — MUCH more effective than e.g. Powerpoint.
It doesn’t surprise me to learn Vi works for Khan Academy. This is my first personal experience with KA; I’m very curious now to look deeper at their offerings. What with this, Crash Course, and god knows what else — this whole web education thing has been moving FAST. This is exciting
This is the second installment in a series comparing BBC’s Sherlock to Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories. The previous article is about about S1:E1 “A Study in Pink”.
Hi again, Sherlock fans! I had a lot of fun with the close-analysis of A Study in Pink, and I hope you did too. This time around, I’m going to do things a little bit differently. You see, that first episode, which had to introduce the characters, drew closely on the scenes in Conan Doyle’s stories that first brought us Watson and Holmes. Moffat and Co. lifted a lot of dialogue pretty much straight from those few scenes, and I had fun running that dialogue side-by-side.
This second episode, however, plunges us into the world of Sherlock-in-action: introductions are in the past, and it’s time for a story! Story elements are what Steve Thompson, this episode’s author, lifted from the originals, and so story elements are what I’ll focus on. First I’ll look at the sources of the plot writ large, and then the roots of that graffiti-code at the heart of the episode. Continue reading
I’m interrupting my anticipated schedule of posts to rant a moment about this beautiful, amazing game. Super Hexagon is by indie developer Terry Cavanagh. It’s…well, the conceit is very simple but makes very little sense on paper. In Edge Magazine‘s words:
You control a tiny arrow, sliding it along a fixed circular arc while varying arrays of lines glide – or, in the harder stages, careen – toward the hexagonal vortex at the centre of the screen. The aim is to slip through any available gaps to avoid collision. Your arrow rotates clockwise or anti-clockwise depending on which side of the touch-screen you press.
It looks like this, or this. That’s you in the middle, orbiting the central hexagon, dodging the light-coloured bars as they rush you.
I love this game because it is first and foremost a game, and it succeeds utterly as a game. Continue reading
Every two to four weeks, I’ll share my thoughts on that day’s iTunes Top 10. This is the first installment! Welcome.
Song titles link to the associated (usually) official music videos.
Songs marked “this one!” are songs I really liked.
#1 Whistle (Flo Rida) –
Seems cute at first, with its whistling hook, but it turns out the ‘whistling’ going on here is, um…well, hear for yourself:
“Can you blow my whistle, baby, whistle, baby? Let me know;
Girl, I’m gonna show you how to do it, and we start real slow:
You just put your lips together, and you come real close,
Can you blow my whistle, baby, whistle, baby? — Here we go”
One verse begins, “It’s like, everywhere I go, my whistle’s ready to blow”. Right. Continue reading
Being arty is terrifying. Although, inside myself, I’m proud of my creativity and happy with my thoughts, I crumble at the thought of sharing them with others. A switch flips. Pride evaporates. I think:
I’m not really that interesting. I don’t have much to add. The world will get on fine without me. Why clutter people’s lives with my ‘insights’? Great. Another mediocre blogger. Another clever kid who thinks he’s got something to say.
And so I don’t post my posts; I don’t sing my songs (“Great. Another clever softie with a guitar.”); I don’t write my writings (“Ooh, another college kid thinks he can write?”). Sometimes I don’t do much of anything (“Another kid trying to self-actualize. Thank god.”).
And you know what? That sucks.
Unfortunately, it’s not even unusual (“Another depressed young artist!”, lol! ). I spoke today with one of my best friends — a brilliant musician and a sparkling soul (a champagne of a person!), who told me of her own struggles with these same fears. More than that — two web artists I admire very much, Ze Frank and Tycho Brahe, recently posted about their own self-doubts.
How do these great creators deal with these fears? These people who are so obviously talented, with so much to offer — how do they explain them? How do they resolve them? Continue reading
A Study In Sherlock
I’m a little late to the game in my enthusiasm for “Sherlock”, the BBC series transplanting the famous detective and his friend John Watson to contemporary London. Most of you have watched it longer, seen more of it, and maybe even enjoyed it more than I have! I certainly can’t pretend to introduce it to you. But I may able to deepen your appreciation of it.
It just so happens that I spent a lot of last summer working through the Complete Sherlock Holmes. It’s still fresh enough in my mind that, as I watched “A Study in Pink”, the first episode of the reboot, I recognized all sorts of wonderful details, names, places, and dialogue lifted word-for-word from Arthur Conan Doyle’s originals.
I thought that, since some of you may not be as familiar with the stories, it might be fun to share with you some of the parallels I found. The full list would be unreadably long — there are that many! — but you’ll get a sense of things from the scenes in which Sherlock “reads” Watson. They’re especially close, and lots of fun in themselves.
Here we go Old is bold; new’s askew.
[Note: I’ll be quoting from the first episode of the reboot, “A Study in Pink”, as well as from the beginnings of the first two Holmes novels, “A Study in Scarlet” and “The Sign of Four”. If you can’t stand reading bits of things you haven’t seen or read, turn back now!]
In both the novel “A Study in Scarlet” and the episode “A Study in Pink“, Watson is introduced to Holmes by a mutual friend who’s heard they’re both looking for apartment-mates. The friend brings Watson to “the chemical laboratory up at the hospital”/ditto, where Holmes is hard at work. Here is their first exchange:
“How are you?” he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.”
“How on earth did you know that?” I asked in astonishment.
“Never mind,” said he, chuckling to himself.
Sherlock: Afghanistan or Iraq?
Sherlock: Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?
John: (after a long pause) Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know—
Sherlock: (cutting him off) Ah, Molly, coffee, thank you.
The next time we meet our heroes, in chapter 2, “The Science of Deduction”/the next day, Watson’s had a chance to read some of Holmes’ writing. It’s a newspaper article called “The Book of Life”/his website called “The Science of Deduction” (sound familiar?), and Watson is skeptical of the powers Holmes claims he has. Watson challenges Holmes, who reminds Watson of his remarkable guess about Afghanistan:
“You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on our first meeting, that you had come from Afghanistan.”
“You were told, no doubt.”
“Nothing of the sort. I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, ‘Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.’ The whole train of thought did not occupy a second. I then remarked that you came from Afghanistan, and you were astonished.”
Sherlock: When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said “Afghanistan or Iraq?” You looked surprised.
John: Yes. How did you know?
Sherlock: I didn’t know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. The conversation as you entered the room — said trained at Bart’s, so army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists — you’ve been abroad but not sunbathing. The limp’s really bad when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That suggests the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic — wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan — Afghanistan or Iraq.
The science of deduction, at work! As it happens, the second Sherlock Holmes novel, “The Sign of Four”, opens with a chapter also called “The Science of Deduction”, and Moffat draws heavily on this as well.
This chapter is where Watson sees Holmes shooting up cocaine/wearing three nicotine patches, which Holmes claims is “transcendently stimulating and clarifying to the mind”/“helps [him] think”. In the original, Watson decides to put this claim to the test, and hands Holmes a pocket-watch, saying, “Now, I have here a watch which has recently come into my possession. Would you have the kindness to let me have an opinion upon the character or habits of the late owner?” In Moffat’s adaptation, Sherlock borrows John’s cellphone when they first meet in the lab.
Holmes examines the watch/phone and eventually declares,
I should judge that the watch belonged to your elder brother, who inherited it from your father. […] He was a man of untidy habits — very untidy and careless. He was left with good prospects, but he threw away his chances, lived for some time in poverty with occasional short intervals of prosperity, and finally, taking to drink, he died. That is all I can gather.”
Sherlock: I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help ’cause you don’t approve of him, possibly because he’s an alcoholic…more likely because he recently walked out on his wife […]
And here’s how Holmes explains his deductions in each version. I’m going to switch it up here and start with the Moffat conversation, showing the sources of each line. (Whee! It gets really fun here.)
Sherlock: Your phone — it’s expensive, email enabled, MP3 player. But you’re looking for a flat-share, you wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches — not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner.
“I began by stating that your brother was careless. When you observe the lower part of that watch-case you notice that it is not only dinted in two places but it is cut and marked all over from the habit of keeping other hard objects, such as coins or keys, in the same pocket. Surely it is no great feat to assume that a man who treats a fifty-guinea watch so cavalierly must be a careless man. Neither is it a very far-fetched inference that a man who inherits one article of such value is pretty well provided for in other respects.”
Sherlock: The next bit’s easy, you know it already. (video cuts to a close-up of the back of the phone, which has been engraved “Harry Watson — from Clara xxx”.)
John: The engraving?
Sherlock: Harry Watson — clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father — this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live. Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is.
“I should judge that the watch belonged to your elder brother, who inherited it from your father.”
“That you gather, no doubt, from the H. W. upon the back?”
“Quite so. The W. suggests your own name. The date of the watch is nearly fifty years back, and the initials are as old as the watch: so it was made for the last generation. Jewellery usually descends to the eldest son, and he is most likely to have the same name as the father. Your father has, if I remember right, been dead many years. It has, therefore, been in the hands of your eldest brother.”
Sherlock: Now, Clara — who’s Clara? Three kisses says romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must’ve given it to him recently — this model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then — six months on, and already he’s giving it away? If she’d left him, he would’ve kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it — he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation and you’re not going to your brother for help? That says you’ve got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don’t like his drinking.
“He was a man of untidy habits — very untidy and careless. He was left with good prospects, but he threw away his chances, lived for some time in poverty with occasional short intervals of prosperity, and finally, taking to drink, he died. That is all I can gather.” […]
Here Watson freaks out a bit; in the original, he leaps out of his chair and accuses Holmes of doing research on him. In the adaptation, he just exclaims, “How could you possibly know about the drinking?”
The detail Sherlock offers as explanation is, I think, my favourite parallel in the whole episode:
Sherlock: Power connection — tiny little scuff marks around the edge. Every night he goes to plug it in and charge but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone, never see a drunk’s without them.
“I ask you to look at the inner plate, which contains the keyhole. Look at the thousands of scratches all round the hole — marks where the key has slipped. What sober man’s key could have scored those grooves? But you will never see a drunkard’s watch without them. He winds it at night, and he leaves these traces of his unsteady hand.”
I almost jumped out of my chair. What a brilliant substitution — phone charger for pocket-watch key. I’m blown away.
And, delightfully, the whole episode’s like that. Believe me when I say that from the very beginning of the show —
(Stamford, the mutual friend:) “[Holmes] appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge.”
(Watson:) “Very right too.”
“Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape.”
“Beating the subjects!”
“Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw him at it with my own eyes.”
*WHAP!* *WHAP!* WHAP!*
— to smack in the middle —
(Holmes:) “I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world.”
“The only unofficial detective?” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“The only unofficial consulting detective,” he answered. “I am the last and highest court of appeal in detection. When Gregson, or Lestrade, or Athelney Jones are out of their depths — which, by the way, is their normal state — the matter is laid before me.”
Sherlock: I’m a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job.
John: What does that mean?
Sherlock: It means whenever the police are out of their depth — which is always — they consult me.
— to the very end —
Watson: “But it was not mere guesswork?”
Holmes: “No, no: I never guess. It is a shocking habit — destructive to the logical faculty.”
John: Lucky guess.
Sherlock: I never guess.
— it’s just packed with lines, scenes, and situations from the books.
It’s a wonderful feat on Moffat’s part to have created an adaptation both so believably contemporary and so faithful to the original text. Check the stories out if you love the show, or watch the show if you enjoy the stories; each will enrich your pleasure in the other.
Want more? Here’s the next episode — The Blind Banker.