Geometry for Ocelots

Product Information

Urinating one morning he became transfixed with an intricate pattern on the plaster of the toilet and mangled the tip of his penis in his trouser zip. Is there a more opulent society imaginable than one that builds spaceships while its population starves?” the undulating crowds of folk walking about beneath an unsacred sky, breathing, reproducing, expiring; and the shouting, and the never-verbalised shouting, Why me? or, Why not me? or, My God, there’s nothing but this. is honest enough to admit that. I’m sorry if ignorance scares you. I’m sorry if you can’t stand the thought of dying before you’ve found the meta-yes. But that’s how this works, for now. And in the meantime, bookended by birth and death, riding about in bodies of carbon, loving, suffering, striving, for a short, short time, we get to be. If we’re forced to be in a mysterious universe, and that universe is mute on the subject of its own motivations for existing, I’ll still take living in honest ignorance over your metaphysical posturing any day. That’s real bravery. Not concocting blatantly contradictory stories to comfort oneself, not appealing to the vague transcendent every time you get your worldview in a twist. Ignorance. Brave, honest admission of one’s ignorance, and living with that ignorance in a kind, compassionate manner, treating each other well even if we know we eventually all go to dust and never happen again. We must try to be wise, to be good women, to be good men. The rite of adulthood is the admission”

Really really enjoyed it. Surprises and twists and turns and some solid commentary on civilizations and progress with some war and love thrown in. Reading ‘Geometry for ocelots’ is like drinking a weird mixture of champagne, rakia (a strong Bulgarian fruit-based spirit) sweetened with honey, herbs and spices, with a splash of tomato juice for good measure. Weird, right? I love weird. Unlike my experience with Neal Stephenson's works, I found the world-building here thorough but easy to comprehend. Each chapter is short and approachable, leaving me excited to find out what's next for the characters and the world. The story spans across several generations of characters. I loved the premise, the worlds, the visits to 4 and 5 dimensional realms beyond human comprehension but most of all, the meditative quality to the writing, the underlying existential anxiety.And you open that bottle with such glee, your fingers shaking so violently in anticipation you can hardly pull the paper from the bottle—knowing that the broken and lonely days are over, the promise that all this torment and wandering was but the prelude to real existence, to your real life of goodness and belonging and certainty in all things. Many memorable stories have sparked my imagination over the last few years. They include The Martian (Weir), The Florentine Deception (Nachenberg), A Deepness in the Sky (Vinge), The Diamond Age (Stephenson), The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect , as well as works by Isaac Asimov, Liu Cixin, Ken Liu, Ted Chiang, Greg Egan, etc. Im going to re read this book on my Kindle so I can highlight and share my notes on here since this book was recommended to me by another mom. (Brittnae btw thanks a MILLION) The space opera is a familiar recipe that I have not read very much. Not sure how more prolific readers would think, but this book was incredibly refreshing and potent for me. It reminds me somewhat of psychedelics and beams of light.

Biological evolution wasn’t a pleasant prospect for the ancients to come around to. Many did everything they could to deny the evidence at first, but there it was—we came from dirt. In time, we incorporated those new and difficult findings into our worldviews, tempered our egos. Later we were better for it, much like a child eventually accepting the hard edges of the world so as not to injure herself so badly on the next occasion.” Mriga said, “Very noble, madam. Spoken like a true champion of reason. The only problem, of course, is that no one would choose to live under such a dark, abyssal narrative as yours. You have no answers, only vapid questions. What is the point of life? How best to live? Where do we go when we die? You only inject doubt where Bodhi has certainty. Tell me, where do you think the night sky came from, Dr Tereshkova? You have no explanation for why there’s anything here at all.” Marta groaned, “And neither do you in the slightest, the only difference being that Gearheart” I've heard of exurb1a oft described as "a drunk British version of Kurzgesagt". In contrast to Kurzgesagt's take of "optimistic nihilism", exurb1a's videos are darker and more nihilistic, sparkled with expletives and hard-hitting in a way that reminds me of Mark Manson's works.The first 20% alone would have been a beautifully written book about corruption on a smaller scope. The over control of religion that covers its ears to facts it cannot swallow or comprehend while also committing heinous crimes. I really liked the dynamic and conflict yet the coordinated needed between science and theology. The tight tie between the narrative and character arcs. I got ‘Geometry for ocelots’ in a kindle sale because I liked the cover. I had no idea what it was about, and absolutely no expectations. It was what I saw in another review that sold me on reading it immediately, something along the lines of ‘You’ll love this book if you’re insane.’ It's so well written that it's incredibly relatable to the real world, the over consumerism of the state we're in. There are so many times I looked to my partner and shared another philosophical abstract question of how the world is seen, what the world is, what it does where it comes from. (Ugh! Science fiction man just making you think and reflect.)