In Search of Memory by Eric R. kandel

Just to show you I am not a complete idiot, I read this book for you. The idea is take a bunch of genetically engineered lab mice, splice them together with poignant memories of Nazi Vienna and then come up with the answer to where memory resides.

Nobel Laureate Kandel, intertwines the intellectual history of the powerful new science of the mind--a combination of cognitive psychology, neuroscience and molecular biology--with his own personal quest to understand memory.

From Vienna to Laboratory, Kandel searches for the biological basis of memory.

I wish I could remember what his conclusions are. Take my day, move it from my hippocampus to my pre-frontal cortex and what do you get? Some weird-ass dreams.

Memory in my opinion, and I think I speak for Roger Penrose, who is known for his periodic tiling of the plane (he did my bathrooms) and his friendships and falling-outs with Steven Hawking, resides in quantum effect. We can't find the basis for it because we are looking for it. And what are we looking for it with? Our memory in good measure. Look-break a vase and then try to fix it with the broken vase (poor analogy). Can't be done. We look inside of our consciousness to see what is there, but we are stymied by the fact that the tool we use is the tool we are looking for.

Anyway, he seems like a nice guy, and he DID win the Nobel Prize and his quest, as all noble quests, is remarkable and courageous. Maybe he's right after all. I just can't remember. (OK. Enough of that!)

You Don't Love me Yet by Johnathan Lethem

Drugs, sex Rock'n Roll, and even a masturbation boutique (called No Shame). What's not to love? Lethem, author of Fortress of Solitude and The Wall of the Eye, The Wall of the Sky lampoons the alternative band scene in L.A.

With an emaciated lead singer who looks like the guy in The Dandy Warhols, an introspective geek of a lead guitarist who can only play sitting down, a bassist who falls in maniacal love with an overweight, shaggy haired diabolical genius (kinda like me) and a drummer who stiffens the band's resolve, this quintet of enigmatic folks, shoots to sudden almost-stardom and then falls precipitously into a pit that doesn't even exist. By the way, a good portion of the story is devoted to Matthew's (the singer) day job at the zoo, where he rescues a kangaroo from ennui and installs him in his bathtub where he (the kangaroo) defecates four times a day, each scatological batch the size and shape of a catcher's mitt.

Interested yet? I was. And I wasn't disappointed. Graphic sex is always fun, even without a Nona around and there are tons of cigarettes, loads of weed and an amazing amount of alcohol. So as I said earlier, what's not to like? Read it if you are not a Republican.

Minions of the Moon by William Gray Beyer

Published in 1950, the same year that Robert Heinlein wrote Sixth Column, which sold for $2.50, this early science fiction/fantasy tale, although 190 pages, can be read in about 20 minutes. Here's what it's about:

When Mark awoke after the experiment, he hardly expected his astounding discovery--he had been catapulted thousands of years into the future, where, incidentally he meets this incredible babe in hardly any clothes at all!!

This future world was like nothing one had ever predicted. Far from scientifically advanced, it was a semi-barbarous state in which the facts of science lay hidden in the cunning minds of a few. To meet the challenge of his new existence, Mark became a swashbuckling leader among the Neo-Vikings. And inspiring him in his valorous deeds was the beautiful, romantic Nona. (Did I mention that she was a semi-clothed Babe? And perhaps a nymphomaniac. She bedding Mark in just a few hours.)

Fortunately Mark had an important ally-- Omega, a Walter Brennan type, who used a lot of "you rascal" and "you young pup!" and whose home was the moon. Omega was a disembodied intellect, pure thought, he roamed the universe at will, as old and as wise as humanity itself. Kinda like me.

It was Omega who first revealed the presence of "the dangerous brains", the terrible force for evil which lurked in the world and threatened mankind with enslavement. And it was Mark who led the battle against them. They weren't that smart really but a lot smarter than George Bush.

This science fiction novel is a thrilling and swift adventure of the rebirth of civilization.

For enjoyable reading it is exceptional. And it has a semi-clothed babe named Nona who likes to have lots of sex with Mark. She is really spunky and feisty and probably a real pistol in bed. Probably real flexible as well. But I digress.

So if you are interested in 59 year old science fiction Neo-Viking books, this is for you, especially because of the extremely semi-unclothed Nona. Ah Nona.

Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen

Ok. This one is really really strange. First Rivka is writing this novel about her father Tzvi Gal-Chen, at least in part. He flits in and out of the book like a firefly and it is clear that Rivka loves and admires him, although he is fictionalized quite convincingly.

So any way, Dr. Leo Liebenstein arrives home one day to find that his wife has disappeared, leaving behind a woman who looks, talks and behaves exactly like her. Certain that Rema is still alive he commences a quixotic quest for her leading him to Patagonia among other venues. His Sancho Panza is one of his psychiatric patients, Harvey.

In any event, we all fail to see clearly the world around us, or in this case, the woman we love, but the journey to discover, or re-discover true meaning, qualitative or quantitative is always the most important thing.

This comic and picaresque novel is well worth reading and has chapter titles such as: 1. A method for Calculating Temperature, Pressure and Vertical Velocities from Doppler Radar Observations.

Just so you know, Rivka Galchen received her MD from Mount Sinai School of Medicine, having spent a year in South America working on public health issues, She recently completed her MFA at Columbia University, where she was a Robert Bingham Fellow. The recipient of a 2006 Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers Award, Galchen lives in New York City.

All of this is depressing to me since she is 25 years younger than me!!

Apropos of nothing: As Yeats says in his Song of Wandering Aengus:

I WENT out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,	5
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,	10
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran	15
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;	20
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

The Puttermesser Papers by Cynthia Ozick

The Puttermesser Papers is really strange. Not the strangest book I have ever read, don't get me wrong. It just comes at you all at once, and all at once means a tyrannical Golem, a tyrannical Russia emigre, a flaccid lover, an idyllic Paradisaical New York City, hoisted on its own petard or its catenary, which is a more painful thing to be hoisted upon, I would suspect. Then while catching, or trying to, my breath, the flighty, tragic, amazing and completely unhealthy life of Puttermesser comes to a ...., but dear reader, I have told too much, or too little. This book won the National Book Award (actually it was just a finalist). Read it if you like being stung by a small bee, while reading your own obituary.