Tricky Truths

‎"A scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it." -- Max Planck

My dear friend Donna posted this quote on her Facebook page yesterday. First I laughed. Then the too-often dark sorrow of that sad truth set in.

In reality, Planck, most famous for his work on the quantum theory, could have been talking about the publishing industry too. Historically, it is not uncommon for an author’s work to be seriously undervalued, or even noticed, for a generation or three.

• Why is that? 
• Does it have anything to do with quantum physics? 
• What makes someone’s words more potent when they can no longer generate new ones? 
• Will my books be more popular when everyone reading this, including the one writing it, is dead? 

Gheesh. Happy Fat Tuesday, Charlene!

Just when this dreary spiral of thoughts was about to sink my usual optimism, I Googled Mr. Planck and found an entire page of his Brainy Quotes. When I got to the following, I cheered. 

  

Anybody who has been seriously engaged in scientific work of any kind [and here Charlene adds, or WRITING] realizes that over the entrance to the gates of the temple of science [keyboards] are written the words: 'Ye must have faith.'

Sign made. Mood bolstered. Writing. I'm ALIVE, and these here blog words LIVE! All I can really control is the moment. I'll be dead a long time, so whatever with thoughts of immortal famousness.

HAPPY FAT TUESDAY everyone, although I will also welcome what is hopefully a skinnier Thursday.

Misreads, Wrong Perceptions

I just read a lovely piece in Shelf Awareness about columnist and author Jeffrey Zaslow, who recently passed away in an automobile accident. Soon after notification of his death, I'd noticed the Twitter stream fill with kind words and expressions about how much his voice would be missed.

When I got to the second from the last paragraph in the article, there appeared a link referring to his expensive obituary in the New York Times. I clicked, read, felt the celebration of his life and the sorrow of his loss, added a couple of his titles to my to-be-read book list. It was clear that his shining words, which often focused on people searching for meaning in their lives, were worthy reads.

By the time I finished the article, and the info at each link, including the obituary--each affirming the power and effect of Mr. Zaslow's printed words, left behind as a testimony to his heart and talent--I realized my feathers were good and ruffled. Why would someone writing such a lovely tributary piece have the bad taste to mention the expense of an obituary! I looked again at the obit link, just to purse my lips, shake my head.

And there is was. The word wasn't EXPENSIVE, it was EXTENSIVE.

The power of words and meaning. A good reminder that all words, whether spoken, read or written, should be carefully considered.