Crazy Sibling Road Trip Chronicle

A few weeks ago, my siblings and I found out that Brandon Sanderson, a fantasy author whose books we really like, was doing a book signing in the Chicago area. That eventually morphed into this:

Yup. The Sanderson Sojourn 2014, as my sister named it, or as I've been calling it, Crazy Sibling Road Trip. The three of us jumped in the car with some carrots, Oreos, a plush guinea pig, and seven copies of his books (among other miscellaneous things) and headed on down to meet Mr. Sanderson at a Barnes and Noble in Skokie, IL.

It. Was. Awesome.

We got there a little after eleven Chicago time, which left us with just under three hours to grab lunch and await Brandon's arrival. Which wasn't really a problem -- we just settled down with the books we'd brought (well, the books Matt and Ani brought, as I don't actually own any of them myself) and got to reading. Not only is a bookstore a nice place to hang out for an hour or two, a few other Sanderson fans were starting to show up. We started overhearing snippets of conversation going on around us about characters we knew and plotlines we'd followed, which was really cool. I love reading and discussing books, and suddenly I found that my siblings and I were sharing this common link with some complete strangers. In a way, it's hard for me to explain what a neat experience that was. I could go on for a lot longer about how essential stories are to our human experience, but we haven't even met the author yet, so I'll leave that for another post (or, as a friend of mine and fellow Sanderson fan would say, that's a sermon for another soapbox).

By this time, the bookstore people had started setting up chairs for the event, so we joined the growing cluster of fantasy fanatics like ourselves and claimed some seats. There weren't a whole lot of people there yet, so we got to talk with some of the others who were most excited for this. Everyone was really friendly -- I made a comment to my sister across the aisle about a book and other people chimed in. We had several good discussions going until the man himself arrived.

Meeting an author whose stories you love can be a little scary. What if he's nothing like the person his books make him seem to be? What if he's really not interested in his readers? What if he turns out to be a really talented jerk?

It blows all those fears out of the water when he turns out to be fantastic human being. I was extremely impressed with him. Personable, passionate, humble, intelligent, genuine -- in short, he struck me as a really great guy. He had a lot of great things to say about writing and answered quite a few audience questions. His books have shown me how important faith is to him, and I'd love to talk with him about it some time. His talk made it even more clear to me that he loves his work and loves his readers. He also has book signing down to a science, despite the colossal stacks of books some fans (like my siblings) brought. It took us about an hour and a half, give or take (probably give), to get through the line, and there were upwards of a hundred people ahead of us. He signed all of them while talking to us -- and not just small talk, a quick bit of quality conversation about his books -- and pausing for a picture.

And here we are. Matt was very excited to get a question about the cosmere answered (for those interested in and in the know about the Sanderson 'verse, highlight to read the minor spoiler for the Stormlight Archive: he confirmed that Hoid has used Shadesmar to world-hop). That itty-bitty object Brandon's holding is a miniature copy of the book he was touring for, Words of Radiance, that Ani put together. I can only take credit for doing the cover text and getting the art down to size. She also put in the inside cover art in the front and map in the back. Most of the pages inside are blank, except for the first two. Ani wrote in "for Brandon," our names, the date, our hometown, and a quote from the book ("Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination."). He broke into this huge grin when Ani handed it to him, as if the day hadn't already been made for us.

Unfortunately, the day didn't end without a hitch. We stopped for some Chicago-style deep dish pizza before heading back home, and although it was delicious, our car was broken into while we were at the restaurant. We'd taken almost everything of value with us (thanks, God!), but we lost the back window of the car and my brother's bag. Although there wasn't anything in it that was monetarily very valuable, he lost the two books that Brandon had signed for him.

It was a cold drive back along the freeway, but we made it back in one piece, thankful that we were all okay and not much was lost. (However, I'm never parking in downtown Chicago ever again. Two busted windows is more than enough, thank you very much.) Despite the somewhat bitter end to it, it was a fantastic day. I didn't get the chance to ask him my question, since the line had to keep moving, but that's okay. Meeting him was phenomenal, and I'm sure I'll have plenty more to discover about it in his future books. Besides, the Sanderson Sojourn won't end in 2014 -- siblings need some traditions, after all.

More pictures can be found on Facebook.

Unlikely Soul Mates

It occurred to me recently that science loves poetry.

True enough, you don't run into very many poems about magnesium sulfate or the phosphorous cycle. We tend to think of poems as generally emotional things, not scientific. When my English class discussed what makes a poem last week, we threw around phrases like "metaphorical imagery," "language play," and "condensed emotion." All of these are true -- to a point. We also offered ideas like "structure," "surprise," and "patterns of sound." Again, all of these are true -- to a point. It's hard to sit down and say, "This is what a poem is. This is what a poem isn't."

Science, on the other hand, seems to thrive on definition. The word science comes from the Latin verb scire, to know. We think of science as specific. Science means knowing things. Science means systematic procedures. Science means testing. Science means proving.

That, however, is where we're wrong. My biology prof told us that if we took anything away from his class, it should be this: science cannot prove anything. Broadly speaking, the best you can get in science is a hypothesis that's been supported enough times, in enough ways, and by enough people that it becomes a theory. Math has theorems, theories that have been proven. Science does not, because it is empirical -- powered not by definition, but by observation.

Poems, my English class noted, are snapshots, moments and thoughts picked out of life and arranged into words. This is especially true of lyric poetry, the type we were mainly discussing in class, and to an extent of narrative or story-telling poetry as well. In short, poetry, too, thrives on observation. If you do not observe -- see, hear, open your metaphorical and literal eyes and ears -- you cannot write a poem.

All this is why I think scientists often turn to the psalms, the Bible's big book of poetry. I still remember Mr. E reading Psalm 8 to us back in Chem 1 my sophomore year of high school and telling us he thought it was David's answer to an essay question he'd given us on our final exam. Last week, my bio prof read part of Psalm 139 to us. And the psalms aren't the only poetry in the Bible. Science is often drawn to -- and, unfortunately, almost as often placed in contest with -- the beautiful poem that opens the Bible.

The word poetry also has classical roots -- the Greek verb ποιεῖν (poiein) means to make or do. Doing and knowing go hand in hand. You can't do very well without knowing, and knowing without doing is pointless. Sure, you can do science without reading poetry and you can write poetry without knowing much science, but there's a sort of mysterious beauty in the communication between the two that you'll be missing out on.

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more from the first similitude.

from Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barrett Browning