The Geography of Thought was an interesting read (and cheap, GBP1.99 for the hardback), if ultimately unsatisfying. As are most of the books I read, as probably are most books. Given I preempted some of his conclusions, indeed made the connections to the mistakes of a hoary old dead white philosopher mathematician before I got to it, either means his book was too simple or I have been reading in the same area too much recently.
My like of things Eastern doesn’t stretch to the standard geek Japanarama otaku-ness, what with me not being a geek, I tend to get stuck somewhere between there and the sub-continent. But that wasn’t the point, it was the structure of thought I was more interested in, cultural leanings and learnings, and how I fit into it, given my formative years, training (educational and otherwise) and current training (educational and otherwise).
There are a few examples in the book to test yourself, with the 60% of Westerners answered this way on one test and 60% of Easterners on another. I tended to fall into one category on one test, and another on the next. Interestingly, given his explanation of why ethnic groups think the way they do (the ancient civilisations of Greece and China are the generative influences) I could see both. In some cases. But it explained quite vividly why I don’t get certain logic problems, but have no problems with others.
For example, imagine two flash cards, one with a chicken on it, and one with grass. In my hand I have another card, which I want you to pair with one of the two I have just set on some imaginary table. Ready for me to reveal the card in my hand? OK then, it is a cow. So where do you put it?
I had some insight into form and content, but that is boring, especially when I extrapolated it out to the extended conversation between Krishna and Arjuna. Dear oh dear, I think it is time I went back to reading novels. When is the new Auster one out? Oh, this year, good good.
Everything you think is wrong. All generalisations are false.
