Squeezing the Clockwork Orange
Technopoly, by Neil Postman
Reviewed by R.C. Sproul Jr.

One of the mega-trends of the end of the twentieth century (and which will, I'm sure, continue in the new century) has been a spate of works in which the author is trying to figure out who we in the west are. Some of these cultural snapshots come from the bulls, with people like George Gilder promising a gigabyte in every pot, and Alvin Toffler rejoicing that we'll surf the third wave all the way to the bank. Others have been less sanguine. Jaques Ellul took an early bear position when he wrote The Technological Society back in the 1970's. Wendell Berry was a cranky bear in the woods, doing what bears do best, all over the happy promises of the technophiles in Another Turn of the Crank. And then the postman rang a third time, with Neil Postman's Technopoly.

Postman's Amusing Ourselves to Death is on my top ten list of the books which have most influenced me. It highlights how our media affect our message, arguing that a culture moving from a word based form of communication to an image based form is waltzing toward the gallows. He argues that we soon will no longer be able to argue, but will instead only be able to emote, to make faces at each other. In Technopoly, the lens backs up a bit as he looks at how the whole technological complex, not just our media, has come to shape the western mind.

As with your happy editors, Postman is not writing a jeremiad against the combustion engine, nor would he call the police if he caught you with a Palm Pilot. His approach is a little more sophisticated than the Luddites, who destroyed machines, instead of domesticating them. Instead he helps the reader to see many of the insidious assumptions that undergird our relationship with our machines, and in turn, how those assumptions influence how we see our relationships with each other. He gives us one page after page, picture after picture of how technology has been the engine that drives the habits of our hearts.

It is through our minds and hearts that our machines, our slaves, have revolted and turned on us. Even the notion that, "resistance is futile," that we will finally be absorbed, that progress is inevitable (and never asking us what we mean by "progress") is a function of how machines affect our thinking. Because we have been programmed by machines, we think we have been programmed by machines. The good news, however, is that we are free, whether we know it or not. We do not need to think the thoughts of technology, sometimes called, "the god who limps' after it." We can think the thoughts of the one, true God.

Postman is not a Christian. But like so many of the unbelieving writers who challenge my thinking, he is a man who not only bears God's image, but sees the image of God in all men. God has been gracious to Postman in giving him insight, and gracious to us in giving us Postman. As with most of the books we review here, this one comes with a strong commendation. And while you're at it, go ahead and read some Ellul and some Berry. Go ahead and use a lamp. We won't tell anyone.

Other Worlds, Cyber and Domestic
The Edges of the Earth, by Richard Leo
Reviewed by Laurence Windham

I think I bought this book for $2 off a discount table in one of those mega-bookstores that serve espresso. Edges of the Earth is Richard Leo's account of his Alaskan homesteading experience. Motivated by the desire to be freed from the superficial and find some meaning in life, Leo leaves the corporate environment of New York City with his fiancee, and attempts to construct a new life in the wilderness. As the reader, you embark with them in their quest for a life that is fulfilling, enduring with them the Herculean task of living independently from the umbilical cord of civilization. This is not easily done, as the author, as well as the reader finds out.

One of the best facets of the book is Leo's commentary on how fragile society is held together. Watching from a relative's balcony, he witnesses the constant arrival of semi-trucks bringing food, medicine, and, well, everything into the city. He muses about what might happen in the city if the freight stopped arriving. The conclusion frightens him. And this was written well before the Y2K anxiety. Toward the end of the book his fiance, Melissa, becomes a Christian and leaves the bohemian because of her new convictions. Surprisingly, the author relates this event evenhandedly. This isn't a "Christian" book, but the subject matter should be an encouragement for us all to not be so dependent on Wal-Mart.

mybrainhurts, a website by Russ Young
Reviewed by Laurence Windham

For all you websurfers out there who have gotten bored with the lack of originality in cyberspace, I suggest you take a look at Russ Young's web page (home.earthlink.net/~mybrainhurts). Russ has created a site that serves as his virtual soap box, journal, travel log, and creative outlet. You will find book and movie reviews, sharp-witted commentary on current issues, poetry, essays, and interesting stories. All of which springs from a Reformed perspective.

The manner in which Russ serves up the content posted on his site reminds me of the character, "Chris in the Morning" from the greatest of all television shows, Northern Exposure. Like listening to "Chris," you get the feeling that Russ would be the kind of guy you would like to hang out with. He appears to be part philosopher, part poet and a little bit, black lab. (By the way, for you available ladies out there, Russ is single.) His site is skillfully constructed with hyper links that wisk you away to other arenas of thought and ideas which makes pursuing mybrainhurts fun as well as provoking. Yeah, it's a great site, but not one that I personally would want. No, not me. I'm not jealous. Nope. Not at all. Really!