A book about Zen does not need to say much in order to say more than a person can handle. A book about physics often must say much more, although the essence of the equations and ideas once firmly grasped, should not take long to explain. The Dancing Wu Li Masters tries to do both and ultimately fails at doing each task in certain respects.
In fairness, this book is now old. The first printing was back in 1979. The explanations are repeated in more modern books, so this tells the reader that this one was instrumental in informing future authors on the topic of how best to approach the subject. Zukav does, at times, have a gift for explaining complicated topics with ease. At others, he belabors the narrative and drops in how similar certain facets of Quantum Mechanics are to an acid trip. To be sure, Quantum Mechanics is strange. However, it may be that everyone who studies the field finds themselves on a kind of intellectual acid trip. This is because Quantum Mechanics from a mystical standpoint, has the curious sensation of having your own perceptions stare back at you in a jumbled way. Not too surprisingly, this lends itself to a kind of nihilism that Zukav attempts to marry off to Eastern Taoism through the means of a Tai Chi master who is called Al Huang.
The problem with Al Huang’s Tai Chi way is that it all seems relative to man as opposed to being relative to the way itself. Indeed, one of the steps in the indicated mystical system is a way called “My Way”, which, a cursory reading in any Buddhist text will tell you should not last much beyond the first hour of day one in any serious Buddhist pursuit of enlightenment. There is only “The Way” which is a critical difference that this text equivocates. This, as will be seen, proves dangerous.
The cover art is reminiscent of the Isle of Man’s many-footed flag emblem called the “Triskeles”. After reading through the entirety of the book, one wonders if the objective was not simply to devise a way to worship man and his cleverness. Indeed, there is a lot of cleverness in the book. The central favored explanation, for instance, Quantum Mechanics centers on the Copenhagen interpretation which suggests one must be preset if a tree should fall in the woods or else nothing at all might happen. This is the purely statistical understanding of QM, however. Bohm and others put forth theories that do not make guest appearances here. One of these is called the “Pilot Wave” theory. These are not widely adopted, but they can explain many facets of Quantum theory just as well if not better than the Copenhagen one. Now, there are even some physical models in a Bohm-style that show how the double slit experiment might work without having to rely on many assumptions the Copenhagen interpretation requires.
The Buddhism/Taoism/Tai Chi failure is in the idea that all matter is ultimately empty and is simply dancing. Standard Buddhism suggests one should empty one’s mind of all forms–and this part is the critical part–of all things OTHER THAN those things which exist in the Buddha mind. This is a key distinction and many Buddhist texts discuss aspects of various wrathful and peaceful deities and a kind of Buddhist apocalypse to come. Far from suggesting these are “empty dances” one rather instead gets the impression that if one does not have the Buddha-mind at this point, one will burn up with the rest of creation. There is a definitive aim that this book misunderstands or misapplies. Yes, physical things change their form, but the forms they assume, as Plato indicated, mean something, somewhere. Enlightenment is the road to understanding, hopefully, what that means. It is not, “Oh well, things come and go, kids!”
By the time the reader gets to the part of imaginary particles the entire work starts to feel like an imaginary intellectual ivory tower. While it is true virtual particles exist in theory, there is something distinctly cynical about assuming they exist for the purpose of theory while suggesting everything is an illusion. By the time one is done reading the book, one feels as though one would have done better to have read nothing at all. It is only salvageable as an experience by disagreeing with the core tenets the book presents that anything of value can be derived. This might be called “The Way of Annihilation of Falsehoods”. It is peculiar since this is the only book that this strategy must be employed without a doubt to derive the benefit of meaning.
It could be that Zukav did not understand the Tai Chi fellow. It could be the Tai Chi fellow did not understand Zukav. It might even possibly be that the understanding of the field was, at the point this book was made, immature. However, one feels even with all that Zukav would still have tried to place man squarely in the middle of the universe like some kind of God regardless. While the entirety of QM screams “Get over yourselves, there’s too much going on here” Zukav seems to yell back, “I know better because it’s all an illusion because of this Tai Chi guy over here!” Never mind that it is misapplied. Never mind the entire discussions on symbols and mathematics not necessarily corresponding to models. (What are models if they cannot be discussed?) Never mind other overlapping Eastern philosophy that suggests that these theories are only being half-applied. The point to be made–the book is bad. It is bad the same way a lot of old kung fu movies are bad. One cannot exactly follow the plot, but one feels like one should finish the movie since they are “this far in”. It is bad because it fails to yoke together its intended subject domains. It is bad because it picks and chooses the points that prove its case, but ignores things that flatly contradict it. It is ultimately bad because it offers a teaching that is patently false as far as the mysticism it claims to represent goes.
For all that, there are some diamonds in here, but the reader’s hands have to get far too bloody in the digging for them. It is better to pass on this one and find something else from an actual wisdom teacher.
William Boyd read all of the former James Bond narratives chronologically, reportedly, to write Solo–his own James Bond novel set in the year of 1969. A cursory perusal of the sales of the book seems to suggest that though the publicity and hype were high around it, the sales did not meet the expectation. It is difficult to know precisely why this is as the book is a solid entry into the Bond universe. Perhaps the readership of Bond is now sophisticated enough within the spy universe to want a kind of Jason-Bourne-superhuman-version instead of a novel that plausibly is more akin to being the genuine article. You are not going to find Bond leaping tall buildings here or surviving incredible wounds and somehow climbing a moving train while expertly jumping up an excavator bucket to the next car. No, this book is more ‘back to the roots’ of being a spy.
As the title implies, Bond is called into a kerfuffle in a tiny region of Africa that concerns the discovery and potential of crude oil reserves. Unfortunately, this discovery has set long-simmering power differentials into motion and the region where the oil field is reputed to be is right in the middle of the conflict. Through the auspices of M, Bond is dispatched to stop this conflict before it escalates further. He does this in the guise of a journalist even though once he arrives almost everyone who is anyone suspects him to be a spy. He arrives with a partner who is a type of CEO of a major company, who has several secrets of her own.
After understanding the political dynamic, Bond makes his move and discovers a way to upset the balance of the political and military forces involved. The fallout does not go as expected, and further complications arise that put Bond on a course back toward England and ultimately toward the status the book title indicates–that is going Solo. Eponymously, going solo means breaking off from the auspices of the agencies of M and Q Branch, and going on one’s own mission by one’s own impetus. The difficulties Bond faces concern, in no small way, a lack of resources that those connections typically supply. Bond will simply have to work around these problems, and it does create an interesting twist to the typical Bond methodology of having gadgets and everything one needs supplied by the British government.
By the end of the novel, we discover, not surprisingly that not everything is as it seems, and the greed that runs the world plays one hand off of another in myriad ways all aimed ultimately and who will, or in some cases who will not, control the freshly found crude in Africa. A weaker character does appear within this narrative who has a ‘weeping eye’ which is reminiscent of Casino Royale. This was easily the most aggravating part of the novel if only because one finds this literary touch as unoriginal and therefore recycled. Everything else, however, is quite good in terms of plot development and believability and we can forgive Boyd for indulgences such as having Bond make his own salad dressing. (Hey, it’s his chance to add something to the mythology of the Bond universe!)
It is possible this book simply came out at the ‘wrong time’ when the palates of Bond fans wanted something else other than a hearkening back to believable spy narratives. Boyd says that he thought Bond should be an excessive alcoholic, and while he certainly drinks often in this book, he certainly is not approaching the levels of alcohol imbibed by the likes of Jackson Lamb in the series Slow Horses. Evidently, these and other issues were enough to make the estate of Ian Fleming take notice and cause a dispute to arise about how Boyd went about the portrayal. Too many cooks in the proverbial spy novel kitchen might make for some sour salad. Just so you are not left wanting, though, here is Bond’s salad vinegarette, which, in all fairness, he also took pains to make during Moonraker:
James Bond’s Salad Dressing in the book Solo: Mix five parts of red-wine vinegar with one part extra-virgin olive oil. The vinegar overload is essential. Add a halved clove of garlic, half a teaspoon of Dijon mustard, a good grind of black pepper and a teaspoon of white granulated sugar. Mix well, remove the garlic and dress the salad.
Perhaps future novels will feature James Bond becoming a genuine ‘foodie’.!
Editor’s Note: The editors of The Book Light were made aware of the publishing of this book via press surrounding its release. Subsequently, Schiffer Publishing–the publisher of the book–was contacted to inquire about a Reviewer’s Copy. Schiffer Publishing sent a copy of the book promptly and we want to be sure to thank them for doing so. You may check out their other titles at their site located here: https://schifferbooks.com/
Bazooka Charlie tells a story that one does not often hear concerning World War II. If one wants to read about fighter pilots, there are stacks of books about Lightenings and Mustangs. If one wants to read about bomber pilots, one will find many references to Mitchells, Liberators, and so on. Even the villain, the Luftwaffe, is replete with Messerschmitts and their ilk. What one hears hardly a peep about are the Liason Pilots flying Piper Cubs which had the primary job of targeting ground forces from the air and radioing the appropriate information. One surely hears nothing at all about anyone placing bazookas on these planes and using them aggressively in order to remove Panzer tanks. As soon as one learns that this book does all of that, it has to go on any serious historian’s “must-read” stack.
Charlie Carpenter is the man on whom this particular story centers. Mr. Carpenter starts off as an athlete first and foremost and then gradually shifts into becoming a teacher as he matures. He writes his own creed by which he intends to live, and seems to have a set of values that one might describe as being Spartan. As events would demonstrate, he would have that creed severely tested.
Mr. Carpenter first signs up in the army to be a glider pilot. It does not take long, however, for him to decide that the Piper Cub Liason Pilot position is the one for him. Before he signs up, he meets the woman he will marry, and indeed he writes to her throughout his time in the service providing a window into both the world at that time and his inner thoughts. When he joins the Air Force, one can clearly discern the desire for Mr. Carpenter to prove his toughness. By the time those tests come, however, Mr. Carpenter is in a different state of mind as the war begins to play havoc with his own psychology and convictions. Though the subtitle of this book is ‘The Unbelievable Story of Major Charles Carpenter and Rosie the Rocketer’ a better subtitle might be ‘A Battle Between Man and Beast in the Belly of Hell’.
One reason this might be a better title is because Mr. Carpenter of all things, does not want to be a hero. He does not want publicity. He does not want recognition. Most of what is driving him to do the things he does in the book is a sense of frustration and a desire for revenge. An additional motivation that the book makes clear is a kind of crisis of faith that Mr. Carpenter undergoes along with an insouciance toward whether he ultimately lives or not. These traits combine and the press calls them courage and daring. Really though, Mr. Carpenter is just pissed off in a myriad of ways. What he is doing is rendering payback and often refers to his time surviving the war as “luck”.
James P. Busha, the main author with input from Carol Apacki, Mr. Carpenter’s daughter, starts the book out with a future event during which Mr. Carpenter is under a kind of court martial that is being instead called ‘battle fatigue’ which is a way the armed forces could sideline anyone with whom they did not approve of some action. In Mr. Carpenter’s case, he uses a tank that is not his to encourage the taking of a village and does so nearly single-handedly. This rankles certain commanding officers although Mr. Carpenter has the protection of a high-ranking Major General John Woods. John Woods is well-loved in the Air Force, but eventually also gets sidelined for rubbing the brass’s fur backwards over the speed at which his men are taking a certain area. He also receives the ‘battle fatigue’ sidelining treatment. Quite a bit of Mr. Carpenter’s war career was in ferrying the Major General about in his Piper Cub.
We learn through the book that Elda, Mr. Carpenter’s wife, is pregnant with Mr. Carpenter’s daughter. While Mr. Carpenter is excited about the event, he is often forlorn since he cannot go home to be with his family. As the early letters begin, Mr. Carpenter is very much a family man. By the end, Mr. Carpenter is not the spitting image of a spotless hero by his own admission where his wife is concerned. There are other women and affairs, and Mr. Carpenter seems to suggest he can no longer live in the idealistic way he did previous to the war. While later commentary is rendered suggesting this is due to PTSD, a careful reading shows that Mr. Carpenter was having difficulty with God and was rather angry that this whole situation he found himself within seemed to do nothing other than indicate the absence of that divine personage. This anger is perhaps productive in the sense that one wonders whether he might have strapped six bazookas on his Piper Club and then dove down eye level with German Panzer tanks without it. Sometimes, one is reminded by the actions of the book, that God answers the prayer through us even despite ourselves.
The narrative does an excellent job at allowing Mr. Carpenter to tell his own story through his own letters sent to ‘Bunny’ otherwise known as ‘Elda Carpenter’–his wife. We even get backstage passes to his life after the war his battle with cancer and some perhaps more peaceful moments he finally finds with his daughter. We also learn that he goes back to teaching and has some things to say about his country and democracy as a result of the experiences he endures and he does not require a lot of notes to do it since he is a primary witness to the war. Much of what he has to say applies today, although it must be remembered that what is said is said from the vantage point of an idealist who has his ideals eroded by the horrors he endures. It is difficult, one finds, to have faith in one’s country or anything else when one undergoes severe trials. Yet, Mr. Carpenter fights his cancer in order to try to spend more time with his daughter and wife. He finds some measure of healing, it seems, and is able to at least put some of what happened behind him.
There are a lot of stories within this text that are too numerous for the number of words this article needs to stay under. Indeed, Mr. Carpenter is and was a hero, but not because of the bazookas or even the flying. No, if anything, it was being willing to undertake such a journey in the first place. On his deathbed, Mr. Carpenter makes the statement that he believes that through his sufferings he is purified. Indeed, suffering can act as a kind of purification although it usually is the case that such suffering is rather the “last stop” for such purification when it can not be handled any other way. One achieves catharsis, perhaps, in the manner they most accept. One likes to think then, that when Mr. Carpenter faced the Eternal Master the Master simply said, “Well, we had some disagreements you and I, but you lived well enough. Here is your reward.”
