A hundred years ago last week, God tried to take San Francisco. The city was leveled by a shattering earthquake, then burned for three days. But she wouldn’t go.

City Hall after the earthquake and fire

Oh, how I was tempted to write that God tried to take “my city.” San Francisco is the city I love above all others. More than others I have visited and love deeply – Chicago, London, Denver. And surely more than those I have yet to see – New York, Rome. Words cannot express how I love San Francisco, how strong the feeling of desperation can be, wanting to be there. I don’t know if I will ever live there. I know I will always want to.

A hundred years ago last Tuesday (April 18), in the early morning when the sun was just starting to light the day, the earth split open a few miles west of the city, somewhere under the ocean. Modern estimates suggest the magnitude of the quake was 8.25. (Compare that with the earthquake we can probably all remember from 1989 – the one that knocked out whole sections of bridges – that measured a mere 6.7.) Then, of course, the fire came.

Some photos of the city were taken just as the fires were staring to burn.

Like so many cities of the time, San Francisco was a hastily constructed city, which is to say it was wooden. The quake both started fires and cracked what few water supply pipe there were that might have helped firefighters. No one ever actually stopped the fires, after three days they had simply burned everything there was to burn. 25,000 buildings were destroyed. As many as 700 died. And 250,000 people were left homeless.


The city, five weeks after the fires burned themselves out.

What is it about great American cities and perilous locations? Rome was famously built among seven hills for protection and as a reward has endured for millennia. Here in America we eschew such logic. Everyone likes to joke about how the Dutch bought Manhattan from the natives for $24 (though the story about it being $24 worth of beads is untrue), but frankly $24 for a swamp isn’t a bad deal. New York, the very capital of the world, is built on a piece of “land” that’s little more than a sandbar between rivers. Chicago burned down in 1871. Then there are Los Angeles and San Francisco, built along beautiful coastlines where mountains meet the sea. Pity that all that beauty is largely the result of one of the world’s more active faults. Consider where I live: Phoenix, the country’s fifth-largest city, built in a place with no water. And must I even mention New Orleans?

Thing is, and I don’t say this to in any way minimize the horror of what has become of New Orleans, some day – probably within our lifetime – something will happen to San Francisco much worse than what happened in the Gulf last September. A 2003 study found a 62% probability that a 6.7 or greater magnitude quake will hit in San Francisco between now and 2032. That is, there’s a better chance than not that within the next 25 years, San Francisco will be hit by an earthquake worse than the 1989 event. Have I mentioned that the neighborhoods hardest hit by the 1989 quake even still aren’t completely repaired?

Simon Winchester recently wrote a book about the 1906 earthquake and devoted the better part of a chapter to warning how easily it could happen again. It’s a terrifying book. Scary enough most Californians don’t even want to hear about it, as he notes in this article.

“Fragile” he calls San Francisco. If you’ve ever been there, can you possibly disagree?


But – and this I know is completely crazy – it doesn’t make me want to live there any less.

I went to New Orleans once and I’m glad I did because I’ll never get to go back. Even if I again make it to a city by that name I know the place will not be the same.

And I still want to live in San Francisco. Because – look at the place – how can you not? Because, if the worst one day happens, at least I would be able to say: I lived there once, before God finally had his way, and took it.


Why wouldn't you want to live in this place?

Stuff

This is why I should have been a judge.

Dan Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code, was recently sued in British court by authors of 1982 book called Holy Blood, Holy Grail. They claimed violation of copyright based on supposed similarities between the books. They lost. Not just that, the judge all but mocked the claimants in his ruling. But that's not all. Apparently, he also put a code in his decision.

I for one hope that the judge's code points out that if Dan Brown is guilty from stealing from anyone it's from himself - he's now written pretty much the same damn book four times over.

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Elsewhere in the seemy world of literary scandal, we have proof that just because you go to Harvard doesn't mean you have a brain in your head.

What's more offensive here? How completely blatant the plagiarism was or that she chose to plagiarize a book by Megan McCafferty. I mean, really, if you absolutely have to steal to finish your book, steal something better.

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Finally, it's no Sopranos, but Big Love on HBO is certainly an intriguing show.

Is the show for or against the practic of polygamy?

It's hard to say. The objectivist argument that the show makes (if only implicitly) is essentially: Assuming you, like a majority of Americans now, support gay or non-traditional marriage on the grounds that consenting adults should be able to enter into arrangements of their choosing and not ultimately be dictated morality by the state, then why can't more than two consenting adults enter into a similar arrangement?

It is a tempting and probably convincing argument that the show seems to be promoting: Bill Hendrickson and his three wives fiercely insist that they are happy and living the life they chose.

The show also (creepily) portrays the most logical and common argument against polygamy: That, in reality, most plural marriages are not the result of choice but are the prodcut of cult-like indoctrination. To that end, the show gives us the Juniper Creek "compiund," which is for all intents and purposes Colorado City, the now relatively famous polygamist society in Arizona near the Utah border. Here one man (a self-proclaimed "prophet") essentially runs everything and has many wives, some of them distressingly young teenagers. The whole thing is both convincing and beyond unsettling.

But where the show is really succeeding is in showing the great extent to which even the Hendrickson's willing, big-city four-way marriage isn't really working. The problem, of course, is jealousy. (An excellent article on the ways jealousy is tearing the group apart is here at Slate.)

It's sad to watch the Juniper Creek scenes, but the scenes at the Hendrickson's are frustrating to watch in their own way. It all seems like it should work out -- one can even imagine how it might be fun to be one of the wives (the fun part of being the husband is, I should think, obvious). Except despite all the potential upside their home life is filled with problem after problem after problem. And realistic issues, too, it's not all completely manufactured TV "problems."

More and more, it seems, the real question the show is asking isn't whether or not we should allow polygamy but why anyone would want to be a polygamist in the first place.

Oh, and also, how often can we show Bill paxton's ass before everyone stops watching altogether?

And you thought Voldemort was evil

The Harry Potter-bashing fun in Georgia continues.

After my last post, Diana commented on an equally (if not moreso) absurd situation in which a certain school administrator disbanded a Harry Potter club when he was aghast to find students "practicing spells" during club time.

Little do those students know how lucky they are that their aspirations to witchcraft were nipped in the bud:

"At Thursday’s hearing, Mallory spoke against the books along with four other parents and students. One of them was Stacy Thomas, a mother of five, who said reading the 'Harry Potter' series made her daughter turn to witchcraft, ultimately causing their Christian family to lose friends, finances and their reputation.

Her daughter, Jordan Fusch, 15, testified that she began experimenting with tarot cards, curses and seances after reading the books.

'As a former witch, I can tell you that witchcraft is not fantasy. ... I felt I could not escape the clutches of witchcraft,' Fusch said. 'It has taken several years of counseling to get to where I was before witchcraft and reading "Harry Potter" books.'"

Fortunately for Jordan she turned away from the dark arts before being led to an even more aboniable fate that is, as Willow Rosenberg would tell us, the inevitable next step after witchcraft.

Every Country Has Problems With Education

The prime minister of Australia is so upset about schools teaching the postmodern approach to literature that he's considering tying funding to the elimnation of such practices.

I can barely even wrap my head around this. I don't actually have anything against postmodern discussion of literature, but I guess I would generally say it's a bit much for high school. There are so many things about this story that just don't make sense to me as an American. For instance, in most American high schools we're lucky if all the classes can even read Shakespeare. Bonus points if they understand it, and nevermind interpretation postmodern or otherwise.

So, there's some dissonance to realize that in Australia the prime minister can get worked up over how literature is being taught, while here we're more concerned with if it is at all. But the most dissonant thing about this story is to try to imagine the President of the United States even trying to pronounce "postmodern."

I haven't actually read the Bible because the type is too small

... maybe I should just let other people tell me what to think. That's the ticket!

Thing is, I actually have read the Bible. I mean, I was doing some serious skimming through all of the "A begat B begat C begat ..." (I mean, I like sex in my literature as much as the next guy but it just got gratuitous.) Anyway, the point is I read the Bible before making up my mind about it: For the record I would say it's often boring, occasionally it's great literature, but I'm not buying the whole 'word of God' thing.

I guess I'm just not as trusting as some people. Which brings me to this lady ...

who wants to ban Harry Potter from the library of the public school her children attend.

The story I linked to is about how most people who heard about her cause decided to defend the Potter books, but I particularly liked these comments the paper noted from their message boards:

"I totally agree with this parent seeking to have Harry Potter books removed. If we suggested the Bible be on a list of mandatory books for students to read as a part of their novel requirement, there would be an immediate protest. Therefore, as a Christian, we must begin to take a stand and begin to show accountability for what our children are being taught and exposed to."

— Posted by Mendi on the message board

Because being in the library is exactly the same as being on a list of mandatory books for students to read.

"I am a Christian. I feel that Christian rights are being abolished in this country. Everyone talks about our views being pushed on them. But what about our beliefs? Don't we have any rights at all?"

— Posted by "red" on the message board

That one is so ridiculous that I'm very tempted to believe it's just sarcastic.

But the best of all is the reason given by the petitioning mother herself:

"On the forms, she wrote that she objected to the series’ 'evil themes, witchcraft, demonic activity, murder, evil blood sacrifice, spells and teaching children all of this.'

She wrote she had not read the series because it is long, and she is a working mother of four."

Where have all the books with good, wholesome blood sacrifice gone anyway? At least she's right about one thing: The books are long. Worse yet, I think once or twice, they may have even made me think.

Frankly I think she's just bitter that an online sorting hat put her in Slytherin.

United 93 follow-up and other stuff

Last week I went to a movie (Inside Man, if you care) for the first time in a while, and while there saw the trailer for United 93. And I have to say, whereas watching it on my home computer gave me a vaguely sick-to-my-stomach feeling and a case of the mopes, seeing it in the theatre elicited a quite different response: Total rage. Hatred. Seething animosity.

Well, you get the point.

My feelings about the film itself remain essentially the same (in a nutshell: I personally have no desire to see a film like that yet, even if it's very good which it may well be considering it's from the guy who made "Bloody Sunday." But much as I don't think it's apprpriate I also don't wish to tell peopl what they can and cannot make movies about. Moreover, Oliver Stone has a 9/11 movie coming out later this summer so don't just blame the makers of this film.)

But there's something about the trailer that makes it unforgivable to me. Something I noticed when I watched the thing online but wasn't as strongly affected by. The brief clip from CNN showing the second plane strike the South Tower.

The thing about that video footage is that no matter how many times I watched and rewatched it on that day and in the years since, it's more than just news footage and I've never been able to forget that. It is, quite literally, a video of a murder. I cannot imagine any other film using actual crime scene footage. Not in the movie and especially not in the trailer.

It's one thing if it's your choice, I think. D and I watched Amityville Horror yesterday and actually lamented that in their "documentary" about the real house that they used so few of the actual crime scene photos, instead relying on "re-created" photos. But that was by choice.

Wednesday night I went to the thatre looking for a simple popcorn bank robbery movie that wouldn't make me think too much. And before I got that I was subjected to a video of an attrocious crime.

I'm not one of those who believes that the families of 9/11 victims should have say over any discussion or representation of that day. Nonetheless, what must it be like to go to a movie expecting to see whatever innocuous movie and suddenly on the screen be watching a video clip of how your husband/father/mother/etc died?

I've said before that I don't want to tell any artist what they can or can't make a movie about. And that's fine. But this trailer isn't the movie. It's advertsing. And it's beyond fucked up to use that video in a an advertisement for the film. The trailer wouldn't be any less effective without the clip. Those who were interested in the movie would still be interested, those turned off by the idea would still be turned off. Either way, the film would have been advertised. In fact, the trailer would still be emotionally powerful. So why use that clip?

I can't come up with a valid reason. But it was the wrong choice.

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Granted, this is a story about a simple little online poll. But still.

The thing is, on the face of it, I should applaud the result. U2's "One" is among my very favorite songs and the lyrics as a whole are stunning. Take the song as you will (an embittered love song, a confession from a gay son, an essay on AIDS have all been proposed and all seemingly make sense). The song challenges and gets racy and ... well, basically I just think it's a really good song.

The problem is, the lyrics from "One" that won this competetion were the worst part of the song: "One life with each other, sisters, brothers." I'm sorry but yawn. Why didn't everyone just vote for "We Are the World"?

Then I realized Robbie Williams also made the list and felt slightly better. Clearly, the contest was only open to pre-teen girls.

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Crazy.

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And I realize this is the height of ... being a hypocrite (hypocritciscm? hypocritcalness?) but I really appreciated this blog entry. I know I'm often snarky (again, see above), but it's good to remember you really need to be a fan first.

2 links; 2 divergent moods

I'm not totally sure I even understand what's going on in this story, but even though we can all agree he's probably right, it's pretty great to see a pastor actually quoted as saying:

"Jesus is not OK with it."

I had to read the article a couple times to realize the "it" Jesus isn't OK with is pornography, not the publisher's decision.

Still, Jesus is not OK with it. And Shakespeare still got to get paid, son.

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I feel like I should have a strong opinion about this movie ... the thing is I really don't.

I probably would if I saw it, but I've really no desire at all to see it. Just watching the preview made me unbearably sad and I'd rather not have two hours of that feeling. My lack of desire to see the movie is an opinion, I suppose, but it's not a strong one.

My feeling is that I would hate the movie, just despise it. Because, for me at least, it's too soon. It wasn't even five years ago that I (like the rest of you) actually lived through that day and even watching the trailer and remembering it as I write this now causes a sadness that is literally physical (tears, trembling, shortness of breath).

But who am I to tell people what art they can and cannot make? I refuse to do that, but I don't necessarily need to patronize the movie.

Some day, not yet for me and maybe not even within my lifetime, the time will be right for a movie like this. It was more than 50 years between D-Day and when Saving Private Ryan opened and I remember many people who had lived then were even still uncomfortable with it. But for people in my (even my parents') generation who knew the stories but hadn't lived through it, the movie was a powerful lesson - it made a heroic but flat incident on the page of a history book truly come alive. Someday my children may similarly find the events of that terrible day more of a curiosity than a horror. Maybe then a movie like this could help them to understand why those two numbers 9-11 are still so powerful in our culture. God willing it will remain an isolated and shocking event, not merely the first of many disastrous days.

But, frankly, I can see no real reason to make this movie now besides money. Of course, it's the motivating factor behind everything in Hollywood. Even the few people who are in it for the art only do so at the behest of those holding the pursestrings. But my God, who really thinks 9-11 is an appropriate thing to wring for profit?

For what it is, the movie doesn't look all that bad, judging by the previes. At least it doesnt seem to Wesley Snipes-ish.

It's not that I'm not interested in stories that are in some way "about" 9/11. I've read several books in the past years that use that day in one way or another to tell a larger story ("Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" comes to mind, as do "Saturday" and "Pattern Recognition". I also hear the new McInerny book is "about" 9/11 in a way, too.). But we're talking about larger stories, not just retellings of that day's events. (In fact I have read one book just about that day's events and so far as I'm concerned it's the only one worth reading: The 9/11 Comission Report.)

I say all of this with hesitation, though - my opinion is not strong. These are vague notions if anything at all.

Even if United 93 is good, moving but not sappy, dramatic but not heavy-handed, sensitive without being treacly ... even if it's everything it can be, how much can it really be? What is this movie aiming to contribute? We all know the story already.