But, of course, there’s a lot more to the book than pretty (beautiful, profound) pictures: it’s a theory about the nature of life. (He’s not one to hide the ambition of his goals: the subtitle to the series is “An Essay on the Art of Building and The Nature of the Universe”.) While, of course, my first reaction to such sweeping claims is to roll my eyes at them, I just can’t do that here: he asks too many uncomfortable questions for me to simply ignore him.

Over lunch today (Cafe Brioche, yum), I finished the section talking about how the fifteen fundamental properties appeared in living objects. Which got me thinking: where else do they appear? I have go on the brain these days, and if any game is going to show signs of life, surely that’s the one, so let’s test them.

To my readers who are not go players, I apologize for the lack of context for the following. (And I have suggestions for how you can fix that!) I looked for good go pictures, but had a hard time finding ones I really liked; here’s one famous example, but that’s an abstract picture of a position, and of course in Alexander’s context I really shouldn’t be ignoring the actual physical objects involved. (Unfortunately, people who post pictures of go boards on flickr seem to like to take them from odd angles.) Anyways, let’s go through the properties:

• Levels of Scale Individual stones, adjacent stones, eyes, living groups, walls, territories. I can’t really imagine cramming in more levels of scale, given that we only have a 19×19 grid to work with! (And, if we talk about the physical objects involved, there are the lines on the board, the grain of the wood, the grain of the white stones, the room you’re playing in.)
• Strong Centers Thick positions, stones casting influence, the ear-reddening move, the pon-nuki that the proverb tells us is worth thirty points, areas of white or black territory.
• Boundaries The borders between black and white territories, that can be as proportionately thick and contested as any of Alexander’s examples.
• Alternating Repetition I’m not convinced that go games do a particularly good job of exhibiting this property. (The go board itself does, a little too rigidly perhaps.)
• Positive Space Territories expanding against each other. On a conceptual level, the space of two eyes giving life to the surrounding stones.
• Good Shape I don’t think I have to comment on the importance of this to anybody who has played any go at all.
• Local Symmetries The go board and stones exhibit this, of course; I’m not sure that positions generally do in a meaningful way. Though I suppose there are some conceptual manifestations of this idea, e.g. the notion of miai.
• Deep Interlock and Ambiguity White and black positions butting up against each other, a group of one color on the run between two groups of the other color and then, suddenly, turning the tables so the attacker becomes the attacked. (In fact, Alexander has a picture of a go board in his discussion of this property.)
• Contrast Black and White. Life and Death. Thickness and Weakness.
• Gradients I’m not sure the game does a great job of manifesting this.
• Roughness Boundaries between positions are never straight lines. Leaving a position slightly unfinished to move on to other areas of the game. The fact that people don’t place the stones exactly on the intersections: this stone is a little up, that one is a little to the right.
• Echoes I’ll have to think about this one a bit more; I think there’s something to it in the go context, but I’m not sure yet.
• The Void The board at the start of a game. Moyos. Large territories. The fact that (in Japanese rules, at least), you win by enclosing more empty space than your opponent.
• Simplicity and Inner Calm The game’s made out of a board, a grid, and black and white stones, nothing else.
• Not-Separateness The effects that stones have on adjacent stones, that groups have on adjacent groups, that (in the context of a ladder) a stone on one side of the board can determine tactical success or failure on the other side of the board.

Works for me; maybe this Alexander chap is on to something? Makes me wonder if I could improve my go game by concentrating more on expressing his properties.

What about a video game example? (I don’t expect them to do nearly as well as go.) I just finished Half-Life 2, so let’s use it as an example.

And, immediately, I run into a problem. The examples in his book are physical objects; in my go example, the physical positions of stones gave enough grist for my analytic mill that I didn’t have to go beyond that. But just talking about the physical layout of (the abstract space in) a video game leaves out so much of what makes them important! Not sure what to do about that; I’ll follow my nose and see where I end up.

• Levels of Scale Small objects, large objects and characters, vehicles, rooms, buildings, areas, levels, the game as a whole? Shooting a weapon, fighting an enemy, fighting a group of enemies? And perhaps some of my earlier complaints about excessive repetition could be ways in which the game misjudged this?
• Strong Centers The strikingly different character of some of the levels? The clear distinctions between types of weapons? Alyx? Large battle set pieces (boss battles, effectively) punctuating levels? Different places to take cover (with different virtues) in those battles? Maybe the levels could have used more of this in their physical layout, actually: if I’m going through section after section that feels the same, that’s a sign that I wanted more strong centers.
• Boundaries At first, I thought the game did a bad job of the sort of thick boundaries that Alexander is talking about. And there really isn’t that much transition from section to section. Then again, maybe the mini-levels (typically involving hooking up with the resistance) that punctuate the longer levels are an example of this? Or the approach to the prision (with bugs!) is a boundary between the travel level and the prison itself? So now I think there are some, but that the game could use more.
• Alternating Repetition Battle, quiet, battle, quiet. Building, outside, building, outside.
• Positive Space The buildings, the roads and the plazas between the buildings? That works to the extent that, for example, you can enter the areas on either side of a road; to the extent that you can’t, I don’t think roads feel like positive space. So they probably weren’t in the rural levels; the urban levels may or may not have had some positive space, I’d need to have a better global feel for the map.
• Good Shape Hmm, not sure I felt this one too strongly. At least on a larger scale, maybe the individual objects did a better job of manifesting this.
• Local Symmetries Maybe present in the objects/buildings; not sure. Not seeing it on a more conceptal level.
• Deep Interlock and Ambiguity I’m having a hard time finding good examples of this.
• Contrast The “Alternating Repetition” examples? The different feels of different levels? The fight of good versus evil? Not sure.
• Gradients The progression of enemy strength, of the strength of weapons, of the number of options you have available.
• Roughness I think the game does a great job of this in its physical design, the way buildings are lived-in, run down without descending into ruins.
• Echoes Again, I’ll have to think about this one; this may be the property that I understand the least.
• The Void Almost completely lacking (unfortunately the case for most video games). Maybe that’s why the “carried on a track through the Citadel” scene made such a big impact on me?
• Simplicity and Inner Calm Again, pretty much lacking. Though the game did a decent job of sticking to a not-too-large set of gameplay elements. (E.g. the limited set of weapons.)
• Not-Separateness At first, I was going to vote against this one: you couldn’t make choices that had significant ramifications elsewhere, the plot was going to do what it wanted whether you liked it or not. Then I went and read the description of the property, and now I’m not so sure: you are presented in the context of a larger world with signs of its own history. So maybe it’s not as lacking here as I thought.

Hmm. It seems like an interesting enough set of analytical categories, at least. And I suspect game designers could use the list to improve the design of their games. And I’d be very curious to see games that did a better job of bringing out The Void without having it dominate the games. Hyrule Field in Ocarina?

Of course, I came to Alexander through the programming community, specifically through groups influenced by his thoughts on patterns. (Which haven’t really lived up to their potential: Kent Beck seems to be the only person getting much mileage out of building a pattern language at multiple scales.) Can I use these ideas in my programming? Can I tell live code apart from dead code by how well it expresses these properties?

Something to think about. But later; this post is already quite long enough, and I’ll need some time to get my thoughts straight in that area anyways. Time to start looking at code through different lenses, though.

In my first game, I took one stone, and the only reason why it was particularly close was that my opponent made a stupid mistake in the endgame that cost him about 10 points; I should have resigned earlier. Judging from conversations I overheard, I got the impression that he normally plays as 3 dan but his rating has slipped recently; I’m quite willing to believe that, it felt like he was 2-3 stones stronger than me.

My second game was frustrating in that the score on the board was 61 to 54, and the AGA rules have a rather large komi of 7.5. Oops.

The way my third game ended was instructional. We were fighting a ko; I made a ko threat. At least I thought it was a ko threat: my opponent started looking at it, and I realized that, because of a snapback, it wasn’t actually a threat to capture the stone it seemed to be threatening.

And then I looked more closely at the ko, and got really nervous. If I’d given in and connected, it would have only cost me a point. If he won the ko, rather than connecting, he’d capture four of my stones, which could be a big amount at some points in the endgame, but I had (despite my misreading of this one) several ko threats on the board that were bigger than that.

But then I realized that his capturing those four stones wasn’t all that was going on: it created a serious threat on my group adjacent to them, and in fact I wasn’t completely sure that my group would survive if I tenukied. (Which I would have to do to make good on any ko threat I would play.) This is something I hadn’t really thought of when doing ko fights: it’s not enough to just calculate the value of your opponent’s first move if he ignores your ko threat, you also have to figure out if that move is sente. And, if it is, you have to play ko threats that are enough larger to make it worthwhile to ignore that sente move.

Despite all of that, it turned out well. My ko threat wasn’t a threat in the way I thought it was; fortunately, when I read it more carefully, there was a more subtle shortage of liberties there. Which my opponent missed, so he won the ko; he captured four of my stones, lost twenty of his, and didn’t manage to capture the other ten of mine that were threatened! (In our post-game review, we decided that the best play after his initial capture lead to my group living in seki, but as it was it lived outright.) A very odd result: we both misread my ko threat, and the result was that, as an outcome of a ko fight that I’d initially miscalculated as small, the game turned from a close game to one where he resigned!

My fourth game was really weird. My opponent’s grasp of large-scale structures was even worse than mine, but he constantly wanted to get into fights with me. And, in doing so, he left himself weak, so I was constantly attacking him! Really bloody, and we both misread situations in significant ways; I misread more than he did, and lost. I really shouldn’t have misread some of those situations; the flip side is that I should probably look for clever attacks more often, because if he can find weaknesses like that in my positions, I’m probably missing some in my opponents’ positions.

One big takeaway from my first two games, which jives with my memories from other recent tournaments: I’m probably doing a better job of building up influence than I did a few years ago, but I’m also being far too cavalier about letting my opponents getting significant territory on the sides. In particular, I really underestimate how valuable it is to have an entire side of the board.

The nice non-go-related aspect of the tournament was that it was in the SF Japantown. I had lunch at Sapporo-ya, which doesn’t look like much from the outside but which we discovered has quite good ramen when we tried it out because we NEEDED FOOD NOW the last time we went to Japantown. And I did some shopping at Kinokuniya; they didn’t have what I was looking for (more Puzzle Nikoli books; fortunately, the ones I have will last me through the only upcoming trip we have planned), but I found a go book I didn’t already own.

And I browsed through the instructional language section, and acquired more inventory there. Which doesn’t entirely thrill me, but I’ll be finishing my Japanese textbook in about half a year, I’m not sure I’ll go to a Japanese bookstore between now and then, and I could use ideas from browsing in a bookstore. And if I learn about books that I want to buy while browsing in a bookstore, I’m going to almost always buy them there, instead of noting them down and buying them elsewhere. The haul:

• Collections of essays and fiction with “translations of all the complex passages”, copious notes, and a dictionary. (And a CD and profiles of the authors.) I’m really excited about these: they look like a great way to make the transition from book learning to reading real Japanese.
• Two volumes of Japanese in MangaLand: I liked the other introduction-to-Japanese-via-manga book that I read, so I figured I’d give these a try as well.
• A Dictionary of Basic Japanese Grammar. I bought this partly because I figure it might be a reasonable thing to read once I’m done with the textbook and/or a reasonable reference, but mostly because there’s an intermediate grammar in the same series, which I expect will be a good follow-up to the textbook.

All in all, if I’m going to accumulate inventory, it doesn’t look like too bad a choice: I have specific triggers coming up in the not-too-distant future that I expect will cause me to start reading all of them, and I’ll probably start reading the manga volumes sooner than that: the first one would be a good candidate to bring on vacation.

A quite pleasant day. I even got some studying done over lunch, so I didn’t particularly fall behind in my regular activities.

Quite pleasant. Too many handicap games, and it was a bit odd having my AGA number of 6269 mark me as the person other than the organizer who’d been an AGA member the longest. And I didn’t do too well giving handicap stones; clearly I should be more careful in the future. But I had a lot of fun, and I’m planning to go again: going to the go club every week is a bit much for me, but playing in a tournament once a month (unless I have something else going on that weekend) sounds about right. And I think I’m doing a better job of trying to look at the board strategically; if I can build on that, I’ll enjoy the games even more.

Viz has cancelled the release of the remaining DVDs as single disks due to poor sales. Basically, they’ve discovered how expensive it is to translate and market, and are instead focusing their energies on the shounen market (Naruto, Bleach, Death Note), where they get a greater return for their effort.

There is speculation that Viz will, later this year, release a slim-case box set with ALL the episodes of HnG in it. No official confirmation yet form Viz Media, though. Pisses me off, though, that to get it, I’ll have to re-buy episodes I already bought, just to complete the series.

I am annoyed.

• T tokens are no more. Which made me a little sad, but I was very happy that, when arriving Tuesday evening for a trip where we’d be leaving the next Tuesday morning and would spend three days outside of Boston, there was a week pass available that was a good value. And I now know that kids under 12 can ride for free, but didn’t know that when buying the passes…
• I was surprised that we got a good rate at the Park Plaza for a couple of days – is it normally affordable, or did we get lucky with a Tuesday/Wednesday request? Good location (though it took us a little while to find it, because we were confused by the construction at the Arlington T stop), and I could live without free internet access for two days. And an Amino set-top box on the TV – just like being at work!
• Hampton Inn has decent internet access at no extra charge. Though I was pretty annoyed at the fake nameserver at the Norwood one that sticks in an ad page if an address doesn’t resolve. Especially the one evening when, for whatever reason, a fair number of lookups were timing out, poisoning any future requests to those domains for the next 15 minutes or so. Not good if you’re reading blogs and can’t get to feedburner.com any more…
• I was impressed how we could get from downtown Boston to a turnpike entrance three short blocks away to out of town almost immediately. Especially since it doesn’t feel like there’s a turnpike cutting through downtown Boston, though I realize that I have walked on bridges over it several times.
• Sturbridge Village turned out to be a really good choice for a place to spend much of a day. Enough stuff to keep us interested, very low key, we got to see 1820’s welding technology in practice, Miranda liked it too.
• The suburbs that aren’t in the inner ring seem to kind of suck, at least near the arteries. I was not pleased with being stuck traveling at 5 miles an hour on 128 at 5pm, and route 1 in Norwood was not a place where I’d want to spend much time, if largely for aesthetic reasons.
• Got to see a couple more retirement communities. I’m glad these things are around. (Though I’m sure there are bad ones out there, too.)
• Didn’t get to see almost any friends or old haunts: we were too busy doing other stuff. Which is fine, actually: almost all of my Boston-area friends have moved away. I wish I’d had another day to just putter around places, but I can live with that.
• The MGA is still active. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it on a Tuesday or a Friday, so I didn’t get to see any of my old friends from the club, but you can get together a few people to play go on a Sunday at the Diesel Cafe. Which apparently opened about a year after I left the area; it’s a long narrow space (running all the way through the building from one street to the next), with good food and pleasant decor.
• That day, about 75 percent of the people in the cafe were using laptops, and about 20 percent of the people were reading the latest Harry Potter. (Which had come out the day before.)
• I enjoyed meeting blog reader Chris Ball in person (and other MGA members and Chris’s wife Madeleine), and we had a couple of exciting games – we turn out to be quite close in strength, conveniently! And I got to see the OLPC laptop in person, too.
• Harvard Square is doing okay; a few stores I like closed, one out-of-place building has appeared, but no wholesale destruction. Wordsworth’s has closed (though their children’s book store still exists, didn’t go in to see what it’s like these days); Harvard Book Store is still open. (I also didn’t go into the Coop to see what it’s like these days.) I’d be willing to believe that the square is declining, but I’d also be willing to believe that it’s at a steady state.
• And Schoenhof’s is still open. I broke my rule and bought several books that I don’t plan to read immediately, that indeed it’s not completely clear that I’ll ever read. But I was just so happy that the store is there! One book on learning kanji that I actually have started, a general Japanese grammar, and small individual books on verbs, particles, and connections (“Making your Japanese Flow”.)
• Grammar and verbs are pretty basic concepts, but I like the ideas of books on particles and connections. I was going to say that those seemed like “only for Japanese” sorts of things, but of course there’s The Greek Particles.
• We went to a couple of old favorite restaurants. The food at Chez Henri is still good, but the waitress we had drove me crazy. When I go out to eat, I do so for exactly two reasons: the food and the company of people I’m eating with. The waitress apparently thought that I had several other goals for the evening, prioritizing (among other things) her comedy routine above, say, getting us dessert menus. I am pleased to say, however, that the Elephant Walk still has both excellent food and excellent service. (Though it’s not that much better the food we make at home from their cookbook.)

Not sure when we’ll visit again, but I’m glad that we’ve managed to make it back every four years or so.

We finished the DVD today, after which Miranda asked me if we could play through the ear-reddening game. So we did. Funny what she remembers me telling her about; it’s not like we’ve actually played go since I first taught her several months ago. She’s asked twice if we can play again this weekend, though.

I am pleased to report that the list is now down to four: I have acquired a copy of Goh or Wei Chi, self-published by Horace F. Cheshire in 1911. Didn’t cost too much, too – I just had to wait a decade for a copy to show up on sale at AbeBooks.

If any of you has a copy of Sakata’s Tesuji, something called Go: Rules of the Game (author unknown, published by Hausemann and Hotte), Kumabe’s Let’s Play Go Today, or Slomann’s The Game of I-Go, please let me know. I’d also be happy to acquire a copy of Iwamoto’s Go Para Principiantes, an apparently laughably bad Spanish translation of Go for Beginners.

And I played several games of go today at KGS. I’d only played one other game in the last two or so years (other than the recent games against Miranda), and I hadn’t played online in more than a decade. But I had several quite pleasant games, people were very nice, I didn’t mind the online aspect as much as I’d feared (though I would hope I wouldn’t have lost one of the games in such a boneheaded fashion on a real board, but who knows), and I now have an official rating there. Of 6k, while information elsewhere suggests that, based on my AGA rating of 1k, my KGS rating should be about 4k. So, with luck, I should be able to bump it up a couple of stones.

My joseki knowledge has largely flown out the window. I should probably remedy that, but so far it doesn’t seem like a big deal – my other competitors’ joseki have also been a bit off, and they probably wouldn’t know how to punish my mistakes even if they did have joseki memorized. I’ve been surprised at how well I’ve been doing in the openings of games: that’s my traditional weakness, and even though I’ve probably been sandbagging a little, I wouldn have expected to come out of the openings more or less even at best.

We are, alas, moving to the main Menlo Park office – no more horses and beautiful scenery around. But maybe I’ll be able to occasionally get games against real players over my lunch break. I should see if there’s some Sun Menlo Park social mailing list where I can ask about that.

• Just play the moves as fast as you can. Go over as many games as possible, trying to get the moves into your fingers, without worrying about understanding them.
• Try to understand the key points of the game.
• Go down every variation that the commentary gives you, trying to understand all the details.

That’s the continuum of how much time you spend reading the commentary. But there’s another continuum: how much time do you spend thinking about moves in advance? The endpoints:

• Just play “hunt the next move” in the book.
• Treat it like your own game: for each move, think until you have a comfortable notion of what your next move would be if you were playing, and only then look at the book.

In the first continuum, I’m normally in the middle. I tend to think that, most of the time, I’d benefit from ignoring the commentary even more: maybe I just haven’t seen the right commentaries, but I suspect I need to be exposed to high-quality game play more than explanations. In the second continuum, I learn towards the “hunt the move” style; while that’s probably appropriate some of the time (just getting lots of games through my fingers), I really should spend more time thinking in advance about what’s going on. (And I do mean “fingers”: I’ve never been able to learn anything from going over games on a computer.)

One of my big gaping holes is my lack of understanding of influence. So my opening is horrible, but not because of my lack of knowledge of joseki – until I took a break in that regard, I was no worse than normal players of my skill in that regard. It was just that my overall judgment was wrong, so I’d always spend the middle game trying to catch up. (But my tesuji, life-and-death, and endgame skills seem decent for a player of my level, so often I’d manage to catch up.) And game commentaries spend a fair amount of time talking about detailed points of reading; even when they talk about influence issues, having it explained after the fact is completely different from committing yourself to a choice and then being told why it is wrong. (Or even that it is wrong.)

Another choice:

• Play through games once.
• Memorize them.

Honestly, for me this is more of a matter of enjoyment than anything else – every few years, I go through a phase when I decide I should start memorizing something or other (usually in foreign languages, just to give myself an ego boost: MÄ“nin aeide, thea, PÄ“lÄ“iadeō AchilÄ“os, …; Vrddhir ād aic, …; etc.), and I’ve gone through that phase with go games. Still, from a didactic point of view, it strikes me as not entirely crazy: if you want to get moves in your fingers, then really get them in your fingers! It’s probably a good way to feel the ebb and flow of games; and if you’re going to memorize joseki anyways, then why not memorize them in the context of a game? (Other than the fact that it’s 20 times as many moves, and that you don’t learn about the negative variations.)

I guess the choices that I’m most comfortable with now are:

1. Don’t pay much attention to commentaries, but do try to guess moves in advance.
2. Memorize the games, without worrying much about commentaries or guessing in advance.
3. Play through lots of games really quickly.

All three seem to have their own distinct strengths. Not that I’ve actually done the first option much in the past…

• One movie at a time works if you’re sure you don’t want to watch more than one movie a week, and if you don’t mind missing occasional weeks due to shipping vagaries. Neither of those proved to be the case for us, so we’ve switched to two movies a week.
• The impetus for signing up was so that we could watch the rest of Haibane Renmei without paying full price. It turns out that that series is good enough that I’m sure we’ll want to watch it again, however.
• A couple of weeks after signing up, they sent me an e-mail asking if I could drop by Los Gatos. (As part of some sort of user-experience study.) I didn’t find the time, but it’s great that the company is doing studies like that. (And I suspect that even the act of asking customers helps build loyalty.)
• Their web design isn’t quite to my taste, for reasons that I’m having a hard time putting my finger on. Having said that, it’s pretty good, and the queue management page is nice.

This weekend’s DVD (we should have had two, but the other seems to have gotten delayed in the mail) was the first volume of the anime version of Hikaru no Go. Not as good as the manga version, but it was okay, and Miranda quite liked it. So she grabbed the first volume of the comic off the shelf, and started reading it. (In fact, she’s reading it right now.) And then she asked me to teach her how to play go. Which was fun, but quite different from teaching an adult how to play go: for one thing, adults are usually trying to figure out how to play as well as possible, while that didn’t particularly seem like an issue to her.

I don’t know if that’s good, bad, or neither. For whatever reason, I find it a little disconcerting (and it’s not the only time I’ve seen such behavior). But it’s a good idea for her to be focused on, say, actually enjoying herself. And one lesson I’ve taken from John Holt is that an important early stage in learning something is just messing around with it, getting your hands dirty with it. To that end, the less pressure there is to use it properly, the less pressure there is to do it well, the better: it increases the chances of the marvel of internal motivation taking hold, if nothing else. (And there are other benefits, too.) We’ll see if she wants to play again after the next DVD arrives…

And, as always happens in these situations, I was reminded that go is Teh Best Game Evar. Yesterday and a game with Karl Fogel a couple of weeks ago were the only times I’ve played go in the last two or three years. There was a reason for that decision – it’s hard for me to find time to regularly attend the local go club, and I find it easier to go cold turkey than to drop by the club once every few months.

But I still miss go. Maybe it’s time to start playing it online again. I think my hands will survive me doing that a little, and it happens fairly frequently these days that it’s 9:30 at night, I’ve finished my daily web browsing, I don’t feel like gracing the world with my words of wisdom, and I have half an hour or 45 minutes to kill. So maybe a go game would hit the spot then? I should look into online servers again, make sure that the world hasn’t changed too much, download clients if necessary. (Any blog readers feel like an online game?)

We’ll be moving to Sun’s main campus towards the end of the month. There must be enough go players there that I can find a game during lunch, surely? I don’t know of any formal go club; I’ll have to look.

The next time I’m looking for a job, I should keep my eye out for one where I’ll be able to play go over lunch.

When I was a postdoc at Stanford, I didn’t have nearly as much time to play go: sometimes I would try to go to the local club every other week, but much more frequently I wouldn’t show up for months at a time. (My hands don’t allow me to play go online: I can type fine, but mouse usage kills me.) The go bibliography started to slip a bit: whereas before I got and reviewed each new book within a couple of months of publication, my goal was now to not fall more than a year behind. Which I was more or less able to do: I took the bus to and from work each day, and I often read go books on the bus rides.

I also found other things that I wanted to write about. For a little while, I had some pages on teaching; when I got this computer, I put up some pages about the process of getting it set up. I never found the time to keep them up, though; in fact, sometimes they never got far enough for me to publish them to the world at all (e.g. some pages on video games).

When I started work at Kealia, though, I stopped taking the bus to work (since there wasn’t a convenient route), which ate into my book reading time: and go books certainly aren’t my highest reading priority. And, after thinking about it for a while, I decided that while I did miss having an excuse to occasionally write something for public consumption, I didn’t really miss writing about go books. As my other abortive efforts made clear, though, I probably shouldn’t plan on writing about any other specific theme: anything too formal would pose a high enough barrier that I wouldn’t update it regularly, and my interests change frequently enough that a single-topic site would die pretty quickly.

But with blogs mentioned in newspapers almost daily, it was pretty obvious what I should do. So here I am. It’s sad to think that I may never add another review to the go book site, but such is life. (I’ve asked other people to contribute reviews: I don’t mind doing a bit of work on the site, if other people can help.) To be sure, I don’t really have an idea how long I’ll keep up this blog, but it’s lasted for half a year by now, I’m not getting bored yet, and I still have a backlog of things that I’d like to write about. I certainly feel better writing regularly: it gives me an excuse to think a bit more about certain things, which is always welcome.