Wikipedia grumbling, Shirin Ebadi, Immolations, and other pleasantries

1. Robert McHenry at Tech Central Station complains about Wikipedia. He is, one should note, the editor of The Encyclopedia Britannica, so he is perhaps a little biased against this completely free institution which will certainly cut into EB's bottom line.


Most of the article is fluff. His point is, how can we trust random people to actually produce something of quality? When he finally gets serious, his only example is the Wikipedia post on Alexander Hamilton, which, he finds, has actually been edited into mediocrity.


It's true, nothing on Wikipedia can be considered definitive knowledge. Everything will have to be verified. Specialists (and any students of mine reading this) should know that whatever you find there should probably be double-checked. But it's quickly becoming an information phenomenon -- especially now that Google searches where a specific piece of information is required (say, the basic rules of golf, or a biography of T.S. Eliot) now produce mainly commercial websites like the useless About.com or cliff notes-type services where you have to pay $5 to get information that should really be free.


The Onion also lodges a complaint about a Wikipedia entry, though the topic is not Alexander Hamilton, but Weird Al Yankovic.


2. So much for freedom of speech. Nobel laureate Shirin Ebadi has filed suit against the U.S. treasury department because of restrictions on printed materials originating from embargoed countries like Iran and Cuba. Ebadi wants to write and publish a book explaining some of the positive things about the current theocracy in Iran -- directed specifically to American readers. But under current U.S. law, she can't do it.


She has an Op-Ed in the New York Times that explains it in a little more detail.


3. It turns out the guy who immolated himself in front of the White House wasn't protesting the war in Iraq after all. He was an informant working for the FBI, who says he was stiffed. They promised him a green card which he didn't get. He says he wanted to go back to Yemen to visit his sick wife, but wasn't able to do so.


4. U.S. Marine kills unarmed Iraqi prisoner in Fallujah mosque for no apparent reason. Reuters. Also, one can apparently see video footage via BoingBoing, though I haven't tried to download it yet.


5. The Hindi film Veer-Zaara earned nearly $1 million at the U.S. box office this weekend. Nice one. And that's just the money the film earned legally!


Other things that should be banned in Texas

Via Crooked Timber, I read this post on Pharyngula about what's happening on the Texas Board of Education. In addition to evolution, they are trying to ban references to overpopulation, global warming, pollution, and the phrase "marriage partners," because it might suggest gay marriage.

Forget Canada. At this rate, even Pakistan, with its ban on food on weddings, and its infamous Hudood Ordinance, is beginning to seem better.

But I still think the goals of the Terri Leo et al. are a little too small. They should also ban:

1. Reference to clouds or cloudiness, because they suggest that Jesus doesn't love us completely unambiguously.
2. The color red, except as a stamp to be sewn onto the garments of adulterers.
3. Any herbs that could potentially be used in support of witchcraft.
4. Helmets, because God made our heads unprotected, and that's how they should stay.
5. The future, because Armageddon is right around the corner.
6. The past, because there was a time when teachers in Texas actually said the word "pollution" in a science class, and this was a dark time that should be erased.
6. Any literature other than the King James Bible and Tim Lehaye's Left Behind series, which is just as good as the Bible.
7. Desperate Housewives, because, though they haven't watched it, the title of the show suggests that heterosexual marriages may not always be cauldrons of divine bliss. (Oh wait, Sinclair has already banned it.)
8. Human Nudity, even in private. Even the thought of it is just too dang tempting.
9. The Da Vinci Code, because a) Leonardo Da Vinci was a likely homosexual, and b) books written about paintings by people who were homosexuals shouldn't sell more copies than the Bible.

Feel free to add others. I will be sending a comprehensive list to Terri Leo of my demands shortly.

Happy Belated Diwali

Happy belated Diwali, folks.

I like this holiday mainly for the sweets. I'm also more or less happy that the God Rama managed to slay the demon Ravana, but the whole rescuing-of-Sita thing seems a little sexist, doesn't it? It's not my favorite Hindu myth. I prefer the Mahabharata, which is populated primarily by human beings fighting wars, over the Ramayana, which is full of Gods, and seems to be obsessed with female chastity.

I'm also not big on firecrackers everywhere; lots of kids get hurt every year because of them. The American model -- for July 4th -- is perhaps excessively puritanical (many states ban firecrackers entirely), but at least you don't hear stories about kids who lose an eye or a finger anymore.

Our celebration of Diwali entailed: 1) eating sweets, naturally (so far: jalebi, chocolate burfi, laddoos), 2) going dancing in New York on Friday night (nothing like Puerto Rican Reggaeton to start off the Indian New Year), and 3) a small party on Saturday in New Haven.

And did I mention sweets?

A.S. Byatt's The Game

One of my students is writing an honors' thesis on the novels of A.S. Byatt. It's been a good opportunity for me to catch up on some of the Byatt novels I hadn't read (though I still have a couple of major ones left to attempt). This weekend I read an early (1967) novel of hers called The Game.

For those who haven't read any Byatt, you should probably start with Possession. It's entertaining and exceptionally well-imagined fiction, though far from easy. All of Byatt's novels require a certain amount of persistence -- a curiosity about the imaginative worlds occupied by writers and artists from earlier historical eras, and a tolerance for the lives and loves of the academics who study them from the mid/late 20th century. It's unfortunate that fans of candy-coated fare like The Da Vinci Code might not recognize it's kinship (as historical fiction) to Byatt's 500-page novels about English professors who have somewhat icy romances while researching the secret passions of fictional Victorians. The worried might, then, do better with Byatt's short stories and fairy tales; I would recommend The Matisse Stories or The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye as places to start.

The Game is the most psychologically complex Byatt novel I've read. It is about two sisters who as children have a kind of medieval fantasy game they play with one another -- a private imaginative universe not so different from the girls in the film Heavenly Creatures, minus the racy references to lesbianism and homicide. The sisters have a falling out over a man named Simon, whom they construct as a kind of mythological hero. One sister, Julia, 'wins' him, but the other, Cassandra, loves him. They grow up disparately: Julia becomes a mother and a successful 'mid-list' writer of modern domestic dramas. Cassandra becomes bitter, a medievalist at Oxford, withdrawn into a rarefied existence.

They are estranged, but remain deeply imaginatively dependent upon each other (and Simon, who becomes a world-traveling herpetologist). The intellectual sisters are mirror reflections of each other's creativity; each performs an essential -- but slightly different -- role in the constitution of the other's existence and survival. I won't say much about what happens as the novel progresses, except this philosophical statement: imaginative intimacy always requires vulnerability, and permanent damage is possible when it's betrayed.

The fantastic world of the sisters in many ways resembles that of the Bronte sisters in the 19th century, Charlotte and Emily. Byatt suggests this with her epigram from an 1835 poem by Charlotte Bronte ("We wove a web in childhood/ A web of sunny air; We dug a spring in infancy/ Of water pure and fair"). But it also resembles (I don't know how much) the real-life rivalry between Byatt and her half-sister, the writer Margaret Drabble. Interestingly, Drabble published a novel about a relationship between two sisters (A Summer Birdcage) just three years before The Game was published. A set-piece? Perhaps, for the adventurous reader.

The Seven Basic Plots ...?

In the Telegraph

I have three objections to even this rather modest review. One is the invocation of God as a reference point in secular storytelling; I don't think religion has anything to do with most stories, including medieval folk tales and fairy tales. Another "danger" flag for me is the reference to Carl Jung, whose wild speculations always revive in me the desire for concrete, provable assertions. And finally, any theory of narrative that stops before the 19th century is bound to be painfully limited. Maybe it's too much to ask for any straightforward explanation of Thackeray's ironies or George Eliot's philosophizing. But what about Dickens?

Still, the title (The Seven Basic Plots) and the dream behind this book is attractive to me. One wants there to be a simple explanation for narrative structure, a general Key to All Storytelling. Unfortunately, there isn't one, and attempts to prove there is usually end up being a bit Quixotic (and I use that word advisedly).

Suketu Mehta on Bollywood tedium

It's a pretty entertaining article. The only notable scandal is Mehta's claim that most Bollywood movies are originally written in English before they are translated into Hindustani (Hindi + Urdu).

Otherwise, it's not too too exciting. He's most convincing -- and, I think, correct -- when he talks about the deep passion for the music that many Indians have. But you don't need to go to Bombay to find that out.

Kerim, who knows Suketu Mehta, has some good comments on it. Thanks also to Sachin for the tip.

Incidentally, Mehta's book on Bombay, Maximum City, has been discussed at Another Subcontinent on occasion.

A bad law spreads to Bavaria

BBC: Hijab bans now in several German states. Not terribly excited about this from a secularism point of view (excessive restriction of the right to religious expression goes against my concept of secularism).

One interesting facet here is that the law passed in Bavaian Parliament on pressure from the Culture Minister, Monika Hohlmeier. To what extent have German women's rights groups been involved in the production of these bans in Germany? In France, women's rights were cited, but far and away, the legislators responsible for implementing the ban were men not particularly known for an investment in feminism.

It's also worth considering that Germany's federal Constitutional Court has ruled the Hijab legal nationally, but given states the right to ban it anyway. I wonder if that split will open the door to further legal challenges from the Muslim community?

Punjab Police to Pay Families of the Disappeared

BBC: Punjab police are going to be paying Rs. 250,000 ($5500 USD) to 109 families of people who were killed in police custody during the 1980s and early 1990s. The payments are being ordered by the National Human Rights Commission.

Last I heard, there were 2500 people who were cremated in this way. Are they all going to get paid?

Remembering Iris Chang

I know that today's big news is Arafat's death, but I wanted to take a quick moment to remember historian Iris Chang, who died yesterday. Chang is best-known for her 1997 book The Rape of Nanking which told the story of the 300,000 people who were tortured, raped, and murdered when the Japanese took Nanking (also spelled: Nanjing). A quick look around the web suggests that her claims about Japanese atrocities at Nanking are controversial, though many of the anti-Chang websites I visited were of questionable credibility. This site, in contrast, is more balanced, and has a useful bibliography, and external links.

Chang was young, and her writing was very promising. But she was also, the death-notices point out, deeply depressed.

n 1997, Chang published the bestselling "The Rape of Nan-king," which described the rape, torture and killing of hundreds of thousands of Chinese civilians by Japanese soldiers during the 1930s. "The Chinese in America," published last year, is a history of Chinese immigrants and their descendants in the United States.

Chang suffered a breakdown during researching for her fourth book about U.S. soldiers who fought the Japanese in the Philippines during World War II.

Chang continued to suffer from depression after she was released from the hospital. In a note to her family, she asked to be remembered as the person she was before she became ill - "engaged with life, committed to her causes, her writing and her family."

Another reason not to visit Belfast

Racist attacks against immigrants. The comments on Slugger O'Toole are worth checking out.

Are Academics Guilty of Groupthink?

Sometimes they are, but I think this was always the case in one way or another. Original thought has always been the province of a lonely few, irrespective of politics. "Groupthink" sounds like an evil, Orwellian hell, but actually it is the norm for many, many people in all kinds of professional pursuits.

It takes real intellectual discipline to avoid falling into the trap of familiar, generally accepted patterns of thought. One problem in today's humanities universe is undoubtedly comfortable multiculturalism; in an earlier era, problems were comfortable canon-worship, or comfortable scholasticism. I think there is more diversity of opinion (and specifically, more political and cultural conservatism) in academia than most people think. But I also think the overall intellectual climate -- the openness of thought, the willingness to engage with people who hold differing opinions -- could be a lot better than it is.

Still, Mark Bauerlein thinks it's a serious problem, and makes the case in an essay in The Chronicle. Erin O'Connor agrees with him.

I posted a comment on her site disagreeing on tone, not so much on substance.

The Rise of Juan Cole, and Other Stories, by Farrell and Drezner

Henry Farrell and Daniel Drezner have co-authored another essay on blogging, this one for Foreign Policy, on the role of blogging in shaping (surprise, surprise) foreign policy debates.

These guys are machines. Farrell's contributions to Crooked Timber are excellent, and Drezner's blog is always edifying. Both are, I understand untenured professors (at George Washington and Chicago, respectively), so their output (combined with their more serious, "scholarly" publication record) is definitely something for slackers like me to envy. I referred to their first co-authored essay on blogging a little while ago, with my response here. They make a couple of new points in the new essay that I think enrich the first.

The most compelling example of a blogger's success in influencing in foreign policy is probably Juan Cole, who went from an unknown middle east specialist in 2002 to one of the most widely respected (in the mass-media) critics/experts on Iraq pretty quickly -- all through his blog.

Fellow bloggers took an interest in his writings, especially because he expressed a skepticism about the U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq that stood apart from the often optimistic mainstream media coverage following the successful overthrow of the Baathist regime. Writing in the summer of 2003, Cole noted: “The Sunni Arabs north, east and west of Baghdad from all accounts hate the U.S. and hate U.S. troops being there. This hatred is the key recruiting tool for the resistance, and it is not lessened by U.S. troops storming towns. I wish [the counterinsurgency operation] well; maybe it will work, militarily. Politically, I don't think it addresses the real problems, of winning hearts and minds."

As a prominent expert on the modern history of Shiite Islam, Cole became widely read among bloggers—and ultimately journalists—following the outbreak of Iraqi Shiite unrest in early 2004. With his blog attracting 250,000 readers per month, Cole began appearing on media outlets such as National Public Radio (NPR) and CNN to provide expert commentary. He also testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. “As a result of my weblog, the Middle East Journal invited me to contribute for the Fall 2003 issue,” he recalls. “When the Senate staff of the Foreign Relations Committee did a literature search on Moktada al-Sadr and his movement, mine was the only article that came up. Senate staff and some of the senators themselves read it and were eager to have my views on the situation."

Good for Juan Cole. (Also: thank you, Juan Cole, for the tireless effort.) But is this essay really yet another compilation of 'blog success stories'? Didn't I just read about five such articles in the New York Times last week? Hello, blog triumphalism, my old friend... (D & F do try to inoculate themselves against vanity by commenting, self-reflexively perhaps, on the rise of blog triumphalism as a phenomenon).

What is new here has to do, again, with the economics of big blogs and small blogs, but not so much for the in-link and out-link statistical analysis that was the subject of the earlier essay, mentioned above. Rather, their interest here is in the economics of information, in which both big blogs and small blogs are essential to the productivity of the system:

Consequently, even as the blogosphere continues to expand, only a few blogs are likely to emerge as focal points. These prominent blogs serve as a mechanism for filtering interesting blog posts from mundane ones. When less renowned bloggers write posts with new information or a new slant, they will contact one or more of the large focal point blogs to publicize their posts. In this manner, poor blogs function as fire alarms for rich blogs, alerting them to new information and links. This self-perpetuating, symbiotic relationship allows interesting arguments and information to make their way to the top of the blogosphere.

All good so far -- I think symbiosis makes the big blogs/little blogs dynamic more interesting. And I think it is probably true. That said, I think the following might be a little off:
The skewed network of the blogosphere makes it less time-consuming for outside observers to acquire information. The media only need to look at elite blogs to obtain a summary of the distribution of opinions on a given political issue. The mainstream political media can therefore act as a conduit between the blogosphere and politically powerful actors. The comparative advantage of blogs in political discourse, as compared to traditional media, is their low cost of real-time publication. Bloggers can post their immediate reactions to important political events before other forms of media can respond. Speed also helps bloggers overcome their own inaccuracies. When confronted with a factual error, they can quickly correct or update their post. Through these interactions, the blogosphere distills complex issues into key themes, providing cues for how the media should frame and report a foreign-policy question.

Here I think they might be getting a little ahead of where blogging actually is, even big-time "focal point" blogging. I'm not sure what a policy-maker would get in terms of information from a bunch of (even major) blogs that they wouldn't get just by carefully reading The New York Times and the BBC. The big blog takedowns, like Rather-gate or Trent Lott's paean to racial segregation, were not policy events but rather more on the order of exposing media mistakes and omissions.

Also, it's an oversimplification that large blogs provide a representative (and therefore time-efficient) source for mainstream journalists and policy-makers to sample a distribution of available opinions. One missing factor is probably Google, which equalizes the big-blog/small-blog equation, especially on the question of obscure or emerging topics. Another missing aspect of the analysis is the chaos (still) of any attempt at serious blog-reading, which inevitably entails a good deal of digging and rooting around for leads. Some of my friends and colleagues have started to take an interest in blogging (partly because of my endless raving about it, but I find it very difficult to explain to them how one actually scans through 15-20 blogs at a session, with no guarantee of coming across anything interesting.

Blogs are certainly a source of opinions -- and this, one gathers, is primarily what Drezner and Farrell read them for. But I think they are also interesting as independent sources of distributed information (along the Wiki model). Here, I'm thinking of blogs not so much as entities that have regular readers, loyal and continuous commentors (though naturally one is profoundly grateful for regular readers), but rather as offering potential nuggests of 'small' information, inside scoop, and micro-reporting. And this becomes relevant to everyone else through search engines, which for whatever reason ranks blogs quite highly.

Blogs -- as social networks -- are also interesting as information themselves. That is to say, small-scale blog discussions, which are even sometimes (shock!) on topics other than foreign policy, can and should be studied sociologically. Blogging is exciting because it is producing a new invigoration of public debate and disagreement, new forms of networking, and the emergence of new forms of loose and shifting social affiliation. I haven't seen this talked about much by the sociology blogs (though maybe soon... or maybe I've missed it).

Finally, any good article on blogging must complete with some fresh links, and Drezner and Farrell do offer a few good ones, this time to blogs outside of the U.S. that have been the subject of controversy:

Iran is a good example. The Iranian blogosphere has exploded. According to the National Institute for Technology and Liberal Education’s Blog Census, Farsi is the fourth most widely used language among blogs worldwide. One service provider alone (“Persian Blog”) hosts some 60,000 active blogs. The weblogs allow young secular and religious Iranians to interact, partially taking the place of reformist newspapers that have been censored or shut down. Government efforts to impose filters on the Internet have been sporadic and only partially successful. Some reformist politicians have embraced blogs, including the president, who celebrated the number of Iranian bloggers at the World Summit on the Information Society, and Vice President Muhammad Ali Abtahi, who is a blogger himself. Elite Iranian blogs such as “Editor: Myself” have established links with the English-speaking blogosphere. When Sina Motallebi, a prominent Iranian blogger, was imprisoned for “undermining national security through ‘cultural activity,’” prominent Iranian bloggers were able to join forces with well-known English-language bloggers including Jeff Jarvis (“BuzzMachine”), Dan Gillmor (“Silicon Valley”), and Patrick Belton (“OxBlog”) to create an online coalition that attracted media coverage, leading to Motallebi’s release.


Other Farrell/Drezner links that were new to me:
Marginal Revolution
Harry's Place
Slugger O'Toole
Blog Africa
Joi Ito's Web

The Rise and Fall of the Bilingual Intellectual

In case you were wondering what's so great about Ram Guha (the Indian historian recently refused entry to the U.S.), read his recent piece in The Hindu on the decline of India's bilingual intellectuals. [Via Kitabkhana]

He argues that early and mid-20th century Indian intellectuals -- people like Tagore, Gandhi, Ambedkar, Anatha Murthy, and R.K. Narayan -- were "effortlessly" bilingual. Many of them wrote extensively in both English and their native languages, depending on context and intended audience. What's interesting about this is not so much that they were able to do this, it's what they chose to write in a given language. Also interesting is that the key centers of bilingual intellectualism were in Bengal and Maharashtra:

Arguably the most developed of these bilingual cultures were located in Bengal and Maharashtra. This is where the most sophisticated conversations were taking place, simultaneously in two languages. Here, the scholar had a real choice as to which language to use for what purpose. Thus the Bengali anthropologist Nirmal Kumar Bose wrote his important works on Gandhism in English, but published his pioneering analysis of the structure of Hindu society in Bengali. His Marathi counterpart Iravati Karve chose to print her landmark studies of kinship and caste in English, yet wrote marvellous, and equally enduring, essays on myth and pilgrimage in her own tongue.

Between 1920 and 1980, or thereabouts, Bengali and Marathi were the only bilingual intellectual cultures in the world. The French write, think and speak exclusively in French; the English, in English. Yet in Pune and Calcutta, original works of scholarship were being written and discussed both in English and in the language of the bazaar.

A couple of objections. First, in South Asia, what about Madras? What about Colombo?

Secondly, in Europe, I think someone like Samuel Beckett, who wrote both in French and in English, might challenge Guha's thesis. Other challengers might be people like Jacques Derrida, who spoke (and often interviewed) in English, though he only wrote in French. Also worth considering are Latin American writers like Ariel Dorfman, who write literature in Spanish, but journalism in English. And there is a large number of scholars whose first language is not English, who are currently located in the United States. They write scholarship in English, but more than a few of them send Spanish-language Op-Eds and such home to Argentina, Chile, Colombia, etc. for publication 'at home'. Globalization has, perhaps, opened a new window on bilingualism.

That said, Guha is surely right that within India, the only serious thinkers writing today are writing in English.

But Guha does make a good point about some of the great modernist writers -- Conrad, Nabokov -- from non-English backgrounds who moved to English, and didn't go back:

The historian and social scientist can make best use of this bilingualism — he, and she, can operate simultaneously in more than one tongue. The creative writer, however, is forced to choose one language over the other. With the historian or critic, it is the message that is more important; for the novelist or poet, it is the medium. Creative writing calls for an attention to language that is total. Thus Tagore never wrote fiction or poetry in any language other than Bengali. Likewise, when they switched to writing in English, Joseph Conrad and Vladimir Nabokov were compelled to discard their mother tongue. Theirs was a choice forced upon them by exile and migration. The choice facing the creative writer in mid-20th Century India, however, was a voluntary one. R.K. Narayan could have written in Tamil; he preferred to write in English. His fellow Mysore novelist U.R. Anantha Murty taught English literature, and even had a Ph.D from a British university; yet he chose to write in Kannada.

Great piece, well worth reading and discussing (maybe with one's students!).

The Obsession with the President's Religion

Joseph Knippenberg of the Claremont Review of Books reviews three books on the subject [via Arts & Letters Daily]:

A review of A Man of Faith: The Spiritual Journey of George W. Bush by David Aikman

The Faith of George W. Bush by Stephen Mansfield

George W. Bush on God and Country edited by Thomas M. Freiling

I certainly don't plan to read the books anytime soon. And the quotes in the Knippenberg review are mostly familiar ones; I blogged a little about them in April. The question we should be asking, it seems to me, isn't about what George W. Bush believes, but about how he justifies what he says and does politically.

When he says his faith guides him, it doesn't bother me. But when he describes the American War on Terror as an extension of God's judgment, I do worry. ("The course of this conflict is not known, yet its outcome is certain. Freedom and fear, justice and cruelty, have always been at war, and we know that God is not neutral between them.")

New Biography of Faulkner--RLB

Christopher Benfey reviews Jay Parini's new biography of Faulkner in The New Republic. The biography is called One Matchless Time: The Life and Work of William Faulkner.

The review -- like most good Reviews of Literary Biographies (RLBs) -- is worth reading partly because of how much it has to say about its twice-deferred subject, William Faulkner. Though I usually rush to read these in the newspaper, and in magazines like The New Yorker, they are in some small sense counter-productive. I read the review, think "Oh, now I know 4 things about Faulkner I didn't know before," and am, strangely, less inclined to actually buy the book.

I do end up buying the biographies anyway, but later, and sometimes used. They are in the category of "invaluable reference," not so much "must get right away."

Tidbits about Faulkner from the Benfey review:
1. He worked in a post-office for three years, before being fired (so the story goes) for reading other people's magazines. And for being an all-around slacker.
2. He sort of pretended to have fought in the First World War for a few years. He volunteered, but was turned down for being too short.
3. He may have fathered a mulatto child, and certainly had, once he had achieved some success, a plantation in Mississippi with black servants who were not paid in money.
4. He wrote nearly all of his great works between 1928 and 1942:

And then, like some act of God along the Mississippi, the floodgates of genius burst. Between 1928 and 1942--the period Faulkner called "one matchless time"--he wrote a stunning succession of masterpieces, almost one a year: The Sound and the Fury (1929), As I Lay Dying (1930), Sanctuary (1931), and Light in August (1932). Then came a fallow interlude of a couple of years, during which he bought an airplane and finally learned to fly, wasted some time working for good pay in Hollywood on mediocre film scripts, and wasted more time on an affair with the secretary of his sometime boss Howard Hawks. (Parini pardons the affair, the first of several, on the grounds that Estelle, who had lost one daughter in infancy and gave birth to another, Jill, in 1933, refused to have sex with her husband thereafter.) Faulkner then resumed the scarcely credible run of invention with Pylon (1935), his underrated novel about barnstorming pilots aloft and in love; Absalom, Absalom! (1936); The Wild Palms (1939); The Hamlet (1940); and Go Down, Moses (1942), in addition to assorted short stories, essays, and oddities in between.

Read the whole review.