Lost Theory II: Charactonym Theory

Well, I posted a reference to this list last week, so I thought I'd publish all my notes this week, and see if someone has an insight/comment.

Someone cleverly recognized a connection between the name of one of the new characters on Lost, Charlotte Staples Lewis, and the writer Clive Staples Lewis (known to most of us as C.S.Lewis. This reminded me of a conversation I once had with a friend about the names of the cast, so I thought I’d see if I could connect the other names of the characters to other people or to their character traits. As another friend recently informed me, this literary phenomenon is called a “charactonym”, defined as “a name given to a literary character that is descriptive of a quality or trait of a character.” [Note: As I researched this, I found a lot of it isn’t new. (Thanks, especially, to John Marcotte at Badmouth.net)]. This week Paige gave me a hard time for writing down names during the show, mocking me for blogging about this, but Faraday, in particular, seems unlikely to be accidental. Of the rest, some could be coincidence, and some of these required more conjecture on my part than others, but I still think there’s something here. Check out the list. I don’t have much of a cohesive theory yet, but I’ve tried to formulate something after the list itself.

Charlotte Staples Lewis – writer C.S. Lewis

John Locke – enlightenment philosopher John Locke

Desmond Hume – enlightenment philosopher David Hume

Kate Austen – novelist Jane Austen
aka Kate Dodd – Martha Dodd, American spy
aka Kate Ryan – the Irish surname Ryan bears the family motto: “Malo More Quam Foedari” Translation: “I would rather die than be disgraced”

Renee Rousseau – philosopher Jean Jacque Rousseau

Jack Shephard, son of Christian Shephard – though this could be a reference to Christ (the “Good Shepherd”), it could also be a reference to “Shephard’s Problem”, a geometric equation relating symmetric convex bodies in n-dimensional Euclidian space (thanks, Wikipedia!)

Michael Dawson – Christopher Dawson, English philosopher, sociologist, and cultural and political critic

Sayid Jarrah – Sayid means “master” in Arabic. Jarrah means “cutter” or “wounder”.
Master Surgeon? Master Butcher? We’ll see.

Charlie Pace - Jordan Scott Pace, English enlightenment philosopher

Shannon Rutherford - Samuel Rutherford, Restoration era critic of English government, preceded enlightenment philosophers like Locke and Hobbes

Juliet Burke – Edmund Burke, Irish political philosopher, critic of “Natural Law”

Henry Gale (Benjamin Linus)- Dorothy’s Uncle Henry in the Wizard of Oz, who might be the Wizard himself.

Ethan Rom – some have speculated this is just an anagram for “Other Man”. I can’t help but see a possible connection to the character Ethan Frome, the protagonist of the book by the same name. He’s “the most striking figure in Starkfield” but comes to a tragic end.

James “Sawyer” Ford – Perhaps this conman is named after a bunch of storytellers, like James Joyce, James Baldwin, Mark Twain (Tom Sawyer reference), and Ford Maddox Ford (that really was his pen name, not a typo)

Hugo “Hurley” Reyes – Frank Hurley was an explorer and photographer/filmmaker who traveled on Shackleton’s expedition to the South Pole. Victor Hugo, French novelist, author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Mr. Eko – Eko is the original name for the second largest city in Africa, Lagos, Nigeria, the country where Mr. Eko came from.

Walt Lloyd-Porter - William Sydney Porter was the real name of the American writer O. Henry.

Daniel Faraday – Michael Faraday, English chemist and physicist who contributed to the fields of… wait for it… electromagnetism and electrochemistry

Goodwin – Richard N. Goodwin, writer and speechwriter for JFK, LBJ, and Bobby Kennedy, served as the secretary general of the Peace Corps and named LBJ’s program “The Great Society”

Harper – Harper Lee, writer


So, here’s what I’m thinking: The most significant name is the name of the show. One of the things I’ve enjoyed about this season is that it’s driven home the point that these characters are not only lost on an island in the south Pacific (maybe), but that they were all lost in the world before they ever got onto that Oceanic flight, and that even after they return they are still lost. I wonder if this is further illustrated by the charactonyms. Writers and philosophers, despite their seemingly normal lives, are all people who take on occupations which separate them from their own world, which force them to see human interactions with a measure of detachment, an affected objectivity. Could the references to so many authors and philosophers, beyond pointing to the immediate relationship between character and referenced figure, be a larger commentary on the separation of these characters from the world? Like the writers and philosophers they (might) allude to, all these people share a similar skewed perspective on humanity. They are outsiders, be they survivors or others, to our world.

Again, here’s my call for the assistance of a mathematician. Would Shepard’s Problem relate to a projection from a plane in such a way as to reference an altered perspective from within that projection? Might that relate to this notion of these characters’ (and writers’/philosophers’) distinct perspective on the world which makes them, in a way, lost?

My LOST Theory

I never thought I'd post a theory about the show LOST online, but after tonight's episode I had to get some more input on an idea I've been kicking around. I need some input on the theory, especially from some mathematicians. Please, somebody let me know what you think! (I tried to post this on LOST-Theories.com, but they seem to be having technical problems.)

I never thought I'd add my own musings about LOST online, but after tonight's episode, I am seeking someone who can confirm or disprove a theory I've been kicking around.

After an attempt at a Charactonym Theory, in which I tried to identify meanings connected to all the names in LOST, I noticed something: Most folks out there online are assuming Jack (and, for that matter, Christian) Shephard's names are Christian references, associating Jack's role as the shepherd of the flock of castaways with Jesus' description of Himself as "The Good Shepherd". But I realized that, while many of the other names are spelled exactly like historical characters they directly relate to (Locke, Hume, Rousseau, etc.), if Jack's name is a reference to The Good Shepherd, why spell it differently? So I started looking into the name Shephard, and guess what I found? There's a mathematical problem called "Shephard's Problem." It relates to projections in a hyperplane. Now, I don;t know much about geometry, and I would love it if someone would explain this to a layman in plain English, but it seems to me this directly relates to the very nature of the island. Sure, the other names relate to writers and philosophers (almost down to a one), and that is what the bulk of the how is about: how these people interact outside of society, with each other and with nature. But maybe Jack's name relates more to the nature of the anomolous island itself.

One of the names I couldn't connect to a thinker is Benjamin Linus. But, if this theory regarding Shephard holds water, might his name refer to Linus Torvalds, the creator of Linux? After all, while the other characters are part of the philosophical conflict amongst the survivors, Linus is arguably more involved in the conflict with the nature of the island itself. Also, according to rumor, he's something of an open-source character, his longevity motivated by calls from the public. If that's the case, I am curious to see how Linus eventual role (a surprisingly moral agent, perhaps?) might relate to Linus' Law, which states: "given enough eyeballs, all bugs are shallow". Might this relate to a relationship between viewers (either withing the story, or viewers at home) and the superficiality, reality, or problems of the island?

Can some mathematician explain how Shephard's Problem does or does not relate to the bending of space time evident on the island, especially in tonight's episode?

My Kid Is Smarter Than Your Kid


Noah, my three-year-old son, showed off his smarts a couple times today.

Starting back when Paige and I were first married, we’d do this horribly cutesy thing I only share because it relates to today’s story. When one of us would say, “I love you,” the other would reply, “I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.”

And back and forth it would go. These, it turns out, are the heady debates of a pair of philosophy majors. We never did this in public, and any observer would have been forgiven for throwing up a little bit. I’m embarrassed to share it now. But it’s our thing, and I’ll cop to it.

Today, Noah climbed onto our bed to wake me up (Paige was already up and about) and started an “I love you” war, which consists of “I love you”s which get progressively louder until we’re shouting them at each other. Falling into an old habit, I said (no, shouted), “I love you more!”

“I love you more!” he replied.

“No, I love you more,” I corrected.

“I love you more, too.”

Why, in almost nine years of marriage, did neither of us think of that one?


This evening he surprised us again. Noah prefers for his mother to read to him while he goes to sleep. I remember more than a few “chopped-liver” moments, when he politely asked me to leave the room so his mommy could put him to bed. Tonight, after his bath, I picked him up, carried him into his room, helped him climb into his PJs, and then flew him out to the living room to get his favorite pillow. When we came back, Paige had dimmed the lights and was preparing the blankets.

“Would you like Mommy or Daddy to put you to bed tonight?” I asked him.

Noah looked down at Paige, already climbing into her position on his bed, then he stared off into the distance, thinking really hard. For a moment, both Paige and I thought he just might surprise us and choose me tonight.

Finally, he spoke.

“I want Daddy and Noah to go out to the living room. Mommy can go to bed.”

Tone-Deaf Economics

A piece in today's New York Times titled "You Are What You Spend" tries to make th case that we shouldn't measure the differences between rich and poor in terms of income (which stands at at 15:1 ratio from the top quintile to the bottom) but in consumption. This lowers the difference to a 4:1 ratio. Yes, the top quintile only spend an average of four times as much as the bottom. This is supposed to be comforting to those who have been concerned that wealth distribution is becoming dangerously imbalanced in this country.

First of all, if the wealthy can afford to spend four times as much as the poor, that alone should be cause for concern. A four to one ratio doesn't sound so bad in raw numbers, but let's translate it to goods. Let's say we're talking about cars. If the poor can afford a $10,000 car, the rich can spend $40,000. Think about the differences in models between $10,000 and $40,000. But wait, do the wealthy spend four times as much as the poor on bread? On toilet paper? If the proportion is less than 4:1 for some goods, it must be even greater for others. Instead of thinking in terms of the size of a house (one expects the house of a wealthy person to be significantly larger than a poor person's) think of it in terms of a mortgage payment. If the poor person spends a thousand dollars a month on housing, the wealthy person is spending four thousand. That's a lot of house.

If this isn't disturbing enough, let's consider the real danger here. The article argues that this movement from 15:1 to 4:1 should be comforting, but why the huge differential between the income and the spending of the wealthy? Shouldn't that be the crux of the article? It isn't. The article gives this issue a single sentence: "The rest of their [the wealthy's] income went largely to taxes and savings." Well, how much of that is taxes? If it's mostly taxes, that would seem to imply a very progressive tax structure keeps the wealthy from outspending the poor 15:1. Imagine the social consequences of a 15:1 world. Try to imagine people who buy bread that is 15 times better than yours. What would butter that's fifteen times more expensive than mine even taste like? What would toilet paper that's fifteen times better than yours feel like? Talk about two Americas. These quintiles would be on different planets.

But what if it's not mostly taxes? What if it's mostly savings? The writers of the article, W. MICHAEL COX and RICHARD ALM, seem to be implying that there is not a significant difference between people who can save such a vast portion of their income, and people who can't afford to save anything. If we measure the differences in our social classes merely by consumption, this implies that the amount saved is irrelevant. But it shouldn't take an economics degree to know that savings matters. Not only do people who have massive amounts socked away sleep better at night, but they can make better long term financial choices (improving their financial situations and widening the gap), and they can weather larger economic downturns while the folks on the bottom get hit without any protection.

But luckily we're not in for any recession anytime soon.

Oh, wait.

The Most Dangerous Language Game

Taking a break from the novel I'm working on, I came up with this little short story.

While holding his rifle in one hand and scanning the dense jungle, the hunter scratched his khaki pants. The pants held special significance for him. Back in 1880 his father had taken part in a conflict known as the Transvaal War, where he’d helped defend a garrison of his fellow Englishmen from a hoard of Zulu warriors. From this conflict, the term “khaki” became the popular term for the style of pants worn by British soldiers. The hunter’s father had gained something else from the conflict. Enamored with the sound of the word (and perhaps a bit nostalgic for his glory days), upon his return he’d convinced his wife to agree to name their third son “Boer”.

Boer rested the butt of the rifle on the plank on which he sat, holding the long rifle by the stock. Because Boer’s father had done quite well for himself in business during the Great War, his son could afford to travel the world, hunting for big game. Now the Englishman sat in a tree on another island, closer to South Africa than the south side of Brighton. The jungles of Madagascar held their share of game, and the lush vegetation made for picturesque scenery, but Boer couldn’t help feeling a bit of ennui. So this was his life, Boer thought. No particular purpose, no ambition beyond his own amusement. And this particular amusement had led him to a blind in a tree in a jungle, far from friends and family. It had led to more waiting.

While the hunter sat in the seat some three feet off the ground, obscured by the squat tree’s dense foliage, the large wild pig prepared to attack. Sneaking through the underbrush, the beast avoided detection by pure luck. Boer, distracted by his mild existential crisis, failed to notice the rustling below him. The pig, a hundred kilos of muscle, wiry hair, and rudeness, identified the hunter as a threat (and possible lunch) by smell, and prepared to use all 20 centimeters of its protruding tusks to pierce the wooden plank separating it from its prey.

So, to summarize, while Boer sat and contemplated his boredom, a boorish boar prepared to bore through his board.

This proves that English, even for the English, can be a pain in the ass.

Tear it down!

Please go here and sign this petition from Amnesty International. We need more Americans to sign on, if only to let the world know that most of us do not support extraordinary rendition, incarceration without trials, kangaroo courts, classified evidence, torture. I want desperately to believe that America is better than this, but if we sit on our hands and allow our government to perpetrate a host of crimes at Guantanimo Bay, well... We're as bad as the actions we allow to be done in our name.

So, please visit www.tearitdown.org

Thank you.

My Christmas Poem

Our pastor asked us to create some artwork to express our prayers this Christmas, and to bring it in to share at church tomorrow. I wrote this poem. Blogger is throwing off the formatting (It should be indented on the uncapitalized lines) but I think it still makes sense. We'll see how it goes over.

Christmas in America
-by Ben Gorman

I picture
Sun on sand
melting the horizon
Suffocating heat
Dry grit
scratching their throats.


They have no coyote
to lead them across the desert
But there are no border guards
Or walls
Or Christians
with rifles
Waiting on the other side.

The teenage mother
Her baby
Her new husband
(not the child's father)
Walk across a desert
To become illegal immigrants
because of a dream.

When they arrive
They will not speak the language
They will take jobs away from the locals
And their baby
will be a drain on the economy.

This Christmas
I can't help but think
The child
is lucky
The parents are taking him to Egypt
And not bringing him
here.

Song of the Strategic Sword Salute

I am no poet. I write perhaps a poem a year. But tonight I’ve written one I’m proud of, and want to share. First, some context: A colleague of mine took her Senior College Lit. Class to see the new film version of Beowulf, which was rated PG-13. She reported that it was good, very bloody, and filled with airbrushed nipples and conveniently placed objects to hide Beowulf’s… epic heroism? What follows is an edited version of our email conversation:

Lori,
I thought you could use this in class. Beowulf: A review in verse.
It's by Dana Stevens, the film critic for Slate, and one of my favorite critics. In fact, after this review she's my favorite, hands down. Enjoy!
-Ben

Ben,
Ah-hah!
I love it! I will share this with them tomorrow. Their reviews are due tomorrow as well. They had to give an overall evaluation and recommendation but zero-in specifically on two strong points and two weak points --I told the boys their two strong points could not be Angelina's boobs.
--Lori

Lori,
Could Angelina's boobs be the strong points if they wrote about them in verse? Points lost for lechery, but made up for in creativity?
-Ben

Ben,
Hmmm . . . perhaps. I don't suppose I'd mind so much either if the girls did "an Ode to Beowulf's Buttocks" (or a "Song of the Strategic Sword Salute"). Ha ha!
Did you guys go see it yet?
-Lori

Lori,
We were planning on going Sunday, had a babysitter and everything, and decided to go to Olive Garden and just enjoy each other's company instead.
I do want to read "Song of the Strategic Sword Salute", though. A limerick or two, perhaps:

Silly MPAA,
Look how many extras we slay.
Unprincipled movie raters,
What made you penis and nipple haters?
And why do you find so much violence okay?

So a sword must be strategically placed.
And often, since he moves with such haste.
Characters can lose their heads.
Kids can take that image to their beds.
So long as they don't see that which has been replaced.


-Ben

State Radio Concert

Tonight I went up to Portland to see the band State Radio. I went by myself. I do not recommend attending concerts alone. Because of the long drive, the high cost of alcohol, and the fact that I've become something of a teetotaler, I didn't buy anything to drink. Because I didn't know anyone I found a quiet space in the corner to sit during the opening band. So, there I was, stone cold sober, sitting by myself in a room full of happy, marginally inebriated twenty-something hipsters. And suddenly, I felt like I was simultaneously the oldest man in the room and back in high school.

Luckily, the opening band was good. Why We Fear Fiction, a local Portland band, put on a high energy show, and the lead singer, besides having a powerful voice, is easy on the eyes, especially with her hair dyed a flaming red that almost matched her red cocktail dress, so that didn't hurt. Still, I felt deeply self-conscious sitting all alone, so I went up close to the stage when State Radio, the headliners, came out to play.

They were nothing short of amazing. Wrapped up in my self-consciousness, I didn't want to dance, but the music was so infectious that I couldn't help it. I didn't want to sing along, even though I love the stinging and ingenious political lyrics to their songs, because I try to be sensitive to the fact that the people around me at a concert did not come to hear the funny looking bald dude in the back of the mosh pit singing his heart out. But the band encouraged us to sing along, and frankly, it was so loud no one could hear me anyway (I hope). By the end of the show I was jumping up and down and head-banging with such ferocity that I thought at one point I might be experiencing a mild heart attack. When the lights finally came up I sat against the stage and caught my breath for a while. It was that good.

Out back, by the bus, I got to shake hands with the lead singer and the bassist, and get a couple signatures for a State Radio flag I'll hang in my classroom.

All-in-all, the moral of the story turned out to be this: Don't go to a concert by yourself, especially if you are thirty, not interested in finding a date, not interested in drinking, and consummately uncool. Unless, that is, the band is State Radio.

How It All Ends Video

A friend of mine is posting a whole series of videos, beginning with this one. I hope everyone checks them out, especially those who are still skeptical about the very real and imminent danger of global climate catastrophe. The first is ten minutes long, but worth your time. The others in the series are for folks who have specific questions about the points of the argument and want more information. Please pass these on to anyone you know who is intelligent and rational but still skeptical about climate change.



Check this one out, along with the others, HERE.