Nairb Sivad's Summer Reading

I've been reading a few books this summer that some of you might enjoy. Here's a short list:

1. World On Fire, Amy Chua

I wrote about this book in my first blog entry, titled "No More Hurt Humans". It's an incredible, eye-opening book on current affairs that reveals a lot about how the United States is perceived by non-American world citizens. Yale professor Chua, an American whose family is ethnic Chinese from the Philippines, draws you in from the start with a story of her aunt's murder at the hands of her servants that serves as a base example of the main theme of the book--backlash against market-dominant minorities.

2. How the Scots Invented the Modern World, Arthur Herman

For years I've been focusing my studies on the origins of other people in the communities where I live, to gain greater understanding of their language and culture. Now I'm ready for a little me time. Half of my maternal ancestors are from Scotland. My grandmother lived in Edinburgh, and I've grown up hearing about Leith and the Firth of Forth. This book is a long overdue venture into my own roots. And it's an excellent read whether your Scottish or not as it reveals much about the origins of things we take for granted in our daily lives.

3. Language and Politics, Noam Chomsky

I'm just starting to read this book, which was first published in 1973. Chomsky is considered the father of modern linguistics and his theory of Universal Grammar--that all humans are born with a common grammar inside their brain, the language organ--is still highly debated today. This book is a compilation of interviews dating back to the Vietnam War era with updates of interviews through 2002. He uses bulletproof logic to argue against war and reveals the truth that is so skillfully blocked by rhetoric-spewing politicians and propagandists.

4. Travels in a Thin Country, Sarah Wheeler

This is a light, well-written travelogue that follows this young woman's lone trek from the desert north of Chile to its cold, harsh tip at Patagonia, including its claimed territory in Antarctica. For those who know nothing about Chile you will be amazed to learn about its history through characters she meets along the way. For those who have experienced the wonder of this thin country, tightly bound by mountains and sea, you will read this book with knowing joy.

The Road Best Traveled

I can't understand why so many people spend half their lives bitching and moaning about having a terrible commute. We all have choices in life. We can choose where to work, where to live, and if our commute just doesn't work out the way we like it we can always alter one or both of the choices we have made. And if changing a job or moving is simply not an option, we can choose sometimes to change our route, change the times we travel, or maybe just change our attitudes. There is no reason to just bore everyone else around you by complaining how bad your commute is every morning when you arrive at work and every afternoon you're heading home.

My current commute is an easy one, relatively hassle free. But then again, I planned it perfectly this time around after having a few real attitude killers. When I got a new job recently at a local college, I moved to an area I knew would have a pleasant commute. From my apartment I can just hop onto Alton Road where it catches Indian Creek around 65th, and follow its winding, palm-lined four lanes through a beautiful residential neighborhood until I get to Mount Sinai Hospital, around 45th Street. Then I take the Julia Tuttle Causeway, a.k.a. I-195, west across a flat stretch of pavement that seems to skim the surface of Biscayne Bay to the city of Miami. Bridges to allow boat traffic rise high above the water on either end of the Tuttle, revealing spectacular views of Miami's downtown, South Beach's east and west skylines and even Bal harbor to the north. Beyond the second lift, I hook a left on I-95, scoot quickly into the right lanes and catch the Dolphin Expressway, a.k.a the 836, west to the 27th Avenue south exit. From there it's just about 16 blocks to the corner of SW 7th Street where the college sits at the entrance to Little Havana.

The entire ride takes about 15 minutes, maybe 25 in rush hour, so on days when I'm not in a hurry I take alternate routes. If I just have a little extra time I like to exit the Dolphin on 17th Street, and maybe stop for a coffee somewhere on Flagler. I turn right, to go west on Flagler, and ramble past the old mom-and-pop shops that line this otherwise unknown local part of the city. Then I take a soft left around 22nd Avenue, on Beacom Boulevard, a rare diagonal route that leads directly to the college.

To be honest, this is one of my easiest commutes, and probably the most beautiful and picturesque. I especially like taking the Tuttle. After a morning rain, there is always a rainbow stretching high into the sky somewhere out west, above the Everglades, and the sky reflects off the bay's glossy smooth patina. It's one of my favorite stretches of urban highway in the country. My favorite, I think, is the Pulaski Skyway, which flies above two rivers, the wetlands and industrial port facilities in Kearny to link downtown Newark with the entrance of the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City. While it seems the Pulaski in Metro Jersey and the Tuttle in Miami couldn't be more different, they are actually quite similar. The eastbound Pulaski provides incredible views of Manhattan, and on clear days you can see bridges and rooftops in all directions. The Watchung Mountains can be traced along the horizon when heading west, and Newark's downtown and the Passaic River sparkle in the sunset. The Pulaski has charm on overcast and drizzly days, too, as the sight of several skylines transform into paintings as if brought forth from the imagination by an impressionist's brush.

I realize others who travel these paths on a daily basis might not agree with my optimistic, almost romantic estimation of these two commutes. Sure, there's traffic. Sure, I get cut off by idiots using their cell phones and hyper-passed by crazed sports-car driving maniacs every day. But the makings of a good commute, any commute, depends heavily on how you view your world. Are you just driving through, trying to force your way through the traffice? Or are you going to be a part of the bigger picture, and take part in the world around you? As for me, I plan ahead, take my time and always choose the road best traveled.

Grit Makes Cities Great

For the past year, since my return to Miami after a two-year stint in Newark, I've been looking for signs of a mature city, something that would draw memories of the Northeast. I came south to escape the snow, but I'm really missing the grit of a city with some miles on her. In Miami, so much of history lies in the last 50 years, and the focus is more directed to one glaring aspect--its chance relationship with the cold war and growth as a transnational suburb in exile of Havana--while tourism has flourished to disguise this fact to the rest of the country. There is also a visible history here, from 20th Century architecture to a unique blending of Latin American nationalities. But Newark, which has lived a sort of transnational existence itself, hosting wave after wave of newly arrived immigrants throughout each of the American centuries, is somehow more deeply layered, more complex.

Newark, arguably the downtown of metro New Jersey, has a tight, defined city center, with brick buildings dating back to the 1600s, interspersed with structures of varying degrees of modernity and use, and roads leading out in all directions to cities of major importance to both the colonial and industrial eras. Major routes run in eight directions: north through Passaic, Paterson and Hackensack; northeast through Union City, West New York and the Bronx; east through Jersey City, Manhattan and Brooklyn; southeast through Bayonne and Staten Island, south through Elizabeth, New Brunswick and Perth Amboy; southwest through the Plainfields; west through Irvington, Summit and Morristown; and northwest through the Oranges, Bloomfield and Montclair.

Built up before cars and trucks came to clog northeast Jersey's network of roads, Newark, as a city in constant evolution and transition, has an urban landscape that came alive during industrialization and all but died in the wake of suburbanization. The highways here were built as afterthoughts, along rivers, through blighted neighborhoods and atop long bridges of rusting steel. Roads curve and dip, one below the other, emerging again out of cold, cracked cement marked sporadically with graffiti and stained with chemical runoff. In the midst of all this, a new urbanism is taking place that does little to sweep aside the scars characteristic of such a harsh history, so they remain visible, unique marks of progress for current generations to marvel, to learn from and to admire.

Miami, too, has its history, its unique built environment, its culture. But one must look harder to see it, study more deeply to understand it and ultimately be willing to go off the beaten path to discover what lies beneath its glossy skin. While geography won't permit such a radiant existence for Miami--the Everglades hem in the west, the Keys are the end of the road just a few hundred miles to the south, and in the east there is just blue ocean, with paths only known to ships and sailing vessels--the city radiates in other ways. Within these natural boundaries a city has formed with distinct design. Above the surface, it seems Miami is jailed within an inflexible grid, with Miami Avenue on the x axis and Flagler on the y. But on the ground there is variation as the Miami River, Biscayne Bay and an old network of canals, as well as the Interstate 95 and several freeways, cut off parts of each quadrant at irregular intervals that defy logic or reason. Through it all, neighborhoods survive in a sort of organized chaos among the constant beauty of sky, plants and water even as half-century old cement structures in some places beg for paint and a little more care.

For better or for worse, redevelopment is underway in select neighborhoods of both Newark and Miami. Their characters will evolve, as Miami sets to open its doors on a new cultural center and opera house and Newark works to expand its subway and light rail network. But what makes the future for each of these cities so interesting are the roots of their respective pasts. So I'll keep on searching for grit in Miami, because I know it's there. It's in Overtown and Liberty City, Opa Locka and Hialeah. I've seen it in Allapattah and Little Havana, too. Hell, it's even in Coral Gables, Coconut Grove and Miami Beach, if you know where to look. So Miami may never compare to the great cities of the northeast, just as U.S. cities could never compare to the great gritty cities of Europe. But in time Miami's own brand of grit will become fully known, and it will truly earn its position as one of the great cities of the Americas.