And that brings up his 50...

The language of cricket, I miss it so, or at least Test Match Special. In this instance the subject line is slightly misleading because the 50 in question is actually books. I set myself a goal at the beginning of 2009 to read at least 50 books this year. I have just completed my 50th. Probably not time left in 2009 for a century, though I do have a shelf of books queued up waiting to be read so I might as well press on. 50, however, is a good point to pause and review. The complete list, in the order that I read them, can be found at the end of this post.

What can I discern from this list of books?

• 9 were borrowed from our public library
• 16 have Canadian authors
• 3 were chosen due to personal recommendations from friends
• 9 authors have multiple books on this list
• 1 book was being reread (a surprisingly low number, I usually reread more books than that during a year)
• 5 were read aloud by my wife and me
• 6 are non-fiction

In the mix there are some great reads, some light fun reads, some serious reads, and probably only one dud.

First 50 books read in 2009:

• Chabon, Michael. Wonder Boys
• Bloom, Harold. How to Read and Why
• Prose, Francine. Reading Like a Writer
• Gaiman, Neil. American Gods
• Gaiman, Neil and Terry Prachett. Good Omens
• Horowitz, Anthony. Stormbreaker
• Fforde, Jasper. The Eyre Affair
• Moore, Christopher. A Dirty Job
• Russo, Richard. Empire Falls
• Vanderhaeghe, Guy. The Englishman's Boy
• Wright, Richard B. October
• Prose, Francine. Goldengrove
• Fforde, Jasper. Lost in a Good Book
• Chabon, Michael. The Yiddish Policemen's Union
• Le Guin, Ursula K. Powers
• Austen, Jane and Seth Grahame-Smith. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
• Hill, Lawrence. The Book of Negroes
• Gessen, Keith. All the Sad Young Literary Men
• Fforde, Jasper. The Well of Lost Plots
• Furey, Leo. The Long Run
• Clarke, Brock. An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England
• Wright, Richard B. Clara Callan
• Gallant, Mavis. A Fairly Good Time
• Foer, Jonathan Safran. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
• Mosley, Walter. This Year You Write Your Novel
• Russo, Richard. Bridge of Sighs
• Montgomery, Lucy Maud. Anne of Green Gables
• Chabon, Michael. The Mysteries of Pittsburgh
• O'Neill, Heather. Lullabies for Little Criminals
• Toews, Miriam. The Flying Troutmans
• Prose, Francine. The Peaceable Kingdom
• Robinson, Marilynne. Housekeeping
• Fforde, Jasper. Something Rotten
• Baker, Nicholson. The Anthologist
• Chabon, Michael. Gentlemen of the Road
• Chabon, Michael. A Model World and Other Stories
• Baker, Nicholson. The Mezzanine
• Saul, John Ralston. A Fair Country
• Hay, Elizabeth. Late Nights on Air
• Chabon, Michael. Maps and Legends
• Barbery, Muriel. Gourmet Rhapsody
• Baker, Nicholson. The Everlasting Story of Nory
• McEwan, Ian. On Chesil Beach
• Montgomery, Lucy Maud. Anne of Avonlea
• Chabon, Michael. Manhood for Amateurs
• Coupland, Douglas. Generation A
• Barbery, Muriel. The Elegance of the Hedgehog
• Bicknell, Jeanette. Why Music Moves Us
• Crummey, Michael. Flesh and Blood
• Strube, Cordelia. Lemon

Just another Karmic Koala

The other day, the same day it was released, I downloaded Ubuntu 9.10, Karmic Koala, and did a clean install on the Linux partition of my laptop. As you may notice if you follow this blog, I tend to do this every time there is a new Ubuntu release. It is so uneventful now (in terms of trauma) that I almost failed to mention it here. But I think it does merit mention, yet again, how refreshingly simple Ubuntu is to install and use. Each time I discover new aspects of Ubuntu, perhaps they are new features but since I don't keep up with Ubuntu chatter I'm not aware of when they were added to the mix. And I learn one or two new things each time. For example, this time I learned how to get my Linux install to handle those region 1 and region 2 DVDs, of which I have many (the curse of starting one's collection whilst living in the UK and then moving back to Canada), and it was so easy. Strictly speaking I don't need Ubuntu to do that for me - we have a Windows desktop (now somewhat aging) on which we watch films. And I am not keen to support these restrictive proprietary formats even tacitly. But it is nice to know that if I had to, I could play the DVDs that I have purchased from reputable commercial outlets on the operating system of my choice.

For the moment I remain with a dual-boot Dell laptop running Windows Vista and, now, Ubuntu 9.10. Increasingly it seems less and less necessary for me to preserve my Windows partition. Perhaps when I find that I spend nearly 100% of my computing time in Ubuntu I will simply forget that I have Windows on this machine as well. And that may be the right time to jettison it altogether. Meanwhile I will continue to enjoy each new release of Ubuntu and, as ever, look forward to the next one.

What I look for in project governance

A lot of my FOSS friends are busy these days thinking about Foundations, not-for-profit organisations, and Associations. This kind of thinking is almost always useful. But I do not have much of substance to contribute to such a discussion. Instead I thought I would spend a few words and minutes setting down what I look for in FOSS project governance. These are merely my personal reflections. I would not be surprised if they do not have universal application.

To be clear, I am not a vendor of software or of software services. And I do not work for a vendor of software. So the concerns of vendors, though I am certain they are perfectly valid, are not my concerns.

When I consider whether or not I want to spend any of my personal time involving myself with a FOSS project, the first thing I look for is how it governs itself. This is my time (and effort) that I am contributing. And while my time (and effort) is no more valuable than anyone else's, it is no less valuable either. How a project values my participation is expressed, I think, through the way it governs itself.

For example, I do not want to participate in a project where the voice someone has within the project depends on something that is not directly related to the contribution they have made within this very project. It seems to me that it makes good sense for some people to have commit rights for the code and for others not to have those rights. But that only makes sense if the route to attaining commit access is a result of contributions made to the project. And it must be at least possible for me similarly to attain such rights, given sufficient contributions of my time (and effort). If that is not possible, then clearly my contributions are not being equally valued. I will go elsewhere.

Who would be in an appropriate position to judge whether my contributions were of sufficient worth to merit my gaining commit rights? I can only imagine that it would be those who themselves have already attained such a position due to the strength of their own contributions. And thus the meritocracy.

I imagine there are many occasions when a project could go in one direction or a different direction. How do such decisions get made? The particulars do not matter so much to me. What matters is whether my opinion, as a project participant, counts and whether it counts equally with the opinions of others. Yet, again, I do not think that counting equally means a project needs to devolve all decision-making to mere majority voting. It seems obvious to me that some participants will have more experience than I do. They will have made longer term or more substantial contributions. It seems right to me that they should have a greater voice in current decision-making about the direction that the project should take. In part this greater responsibility will already have been signalled by the project because these individuals will have commit access to the codebase. And even within those with commit rights, there may need to be a further level of distinction such as a project management committee. This could help the project make some of its decisions. I can even imagine projects where ultimately there is a final authority, a single individual, who casts deciding ballots when necessary. But I cannot imagine participating in such a project unless there is some route by which I too might eventually attain such a position and that such attainment would be based upon the contributions I had made to the project.

And so it comes back to whether or not my contributions of time (and effort) are equally valued. It seems to me that there are many, many ways to organise the particulars of project governance each of which express this principle. There are also, I'm sure, many examples of projects that forego such equality of participation. That's fine. I have no wish to insist that all projects conform to my ideals. Since this is my time (and effort) we are talking about, I can simply vote with my feet. I will go elsewhere.

I could be wrong, but I suspect that over time more and more projects will move toward the view that all participation needs to be valued equally. And from this starting point they will organise themselves in different ways which they think best expresses that belief.

One final observation. It seems obvious to me that if a project does organise itself in such a way in which each participant's contribution is valued equally, the project will want to make this clear to one and all. It may lay out just such a principle when it explains how participation in the project works. More, however, I would expect the project to be telling me how decisions are made, how commit access is attained, what I need to do to get started and how I will be able to move through whichever levels of contribution the project has deemed necessary. When a project website does not explain very, very clearly how my participation will be valued, I almost immediately head for the exit.

I hope there will be more thinking and talking about Foundations, and not-for-profit organisations, and Associations amongst the FOSS projects that I have an interest in. I think it is usually a sign that the project is heading toward some sort of clarity about its own governance. And that kind of clarity can only help, if only to help me decide whether I want to continue to participate in the project.

This and that and a bit of LUG

Last night I attended my local Linux User Group (LUG) monthly meeting for the first time in over a year. The KWLUG is reasonably active and very good about arranging a talk most months. I have not been very good about getting out to them. For some reason the first Monday of every month (displaced this month due to Labour Day) I have found myself with other commitments or travelling to distant lands. This month the meeting was held at a venue within walking distance of home and, as my other commitments have lessened of late, I was determined to attend. I am glad I did. Khalid Baheyeldin gave a two-hour presentation on The Apache Web Server which was delightfully comprehensive without getting bogged down in esoteric matters. There were more than 30 people in attendance, which speaks well for the health of this LUG.

Members of the LUG are active at numerous events, with mention last night of Ohio Linux Fest and the forthcoming Ontario Linux Fest. The latter is on Saturday, 24 October, and is being held just down the road (in Canadian terms) in Toronto. I shall have to see about getting out to that. And this reminds me that FSOSS 2009 can't be far off as well. Indeed, it will be held on 29-30 October at the end of what is being billed as Toronto Open Source Week.

But up first are the activities taking place in many, many places on Saturday, 19 September, as part of the Software Freedom Day celebrations. Of course members of my local LUG are busy with a slate of talks and demonstrations for the day, all taking place at The Working Centre under the event theme Working as If People Mattered.

It's great to see that FOSS is alive an well in the region. I hope to get more stuck in to the local scene in future.

Music games

Yesterday I did something that I haven't done in 30 years. I attended a music festival, the Kitchener-Waterloo Music Festival. My niece was competing in a piano class and as the venue was just around the corner I decided to walk over and hear her.

I have very few pleasant memories of piano competitions and all of them are from before the age of 11 or 12. My sisters and I were usually entered in to as many classes in the festival as we could accommodate. I remember my first festival in London, Ontario, when I must have been 6 or 7 years old. I was in 6 classes in one day, an absurd feat of scheduling. I placed first in every one. It was the zenith of my career in competition. There were lots of other highlights over the next 5 or 6 years, but I never managed to fully dazzle in quite that way again.

In fact within a few years I found myself increasingly incapable of going on the stage. Perhaps I was unconsciously acknowledging a lack of preparation; my habits of practising did degenerate as I got older. It may have been something else entirely. I have not managed to ferret out precise causes. The experiences alone were bad enough. These days I think they might be described as panic attacks. Circumventing them required ever more extreme measures. By the age of 15 I was at an end and competed no more.

It has taken me almost 25 years to be able to even sit down with any degree of comfort at a piano keyboard. Thus the gifts we are given in our youth both bless and curse us.

So it was no small thing for me, though few might guess it to see me, to head over to the hall in which this present festival is taking place even though I was merely an audience member. My niece does not suffer from whatever hindered me. She acknowledges a flutter in her tummy but nothing more. She is lucky. Perhaps she will not need to set aside a formative aspect of her childhood and youth for the greater part of her life as I did. I hope not.

Memories - inchoate, unsavoury, uncertain. How do you turn them off, make them safe?

Water, water, everywhere

Yesterday I witnessed a phenomenon. Through a scheme offered by our district authority, the Region of Waterloo, I participated in the annual Rain Barrel Distribution day. Through this programme local residents may purchase a high-quality rain barrel for a modest sum (about 1/3rd the cost of what you would pay in Canadian Tire or Home Hardware). The region has a single distribution day annually and, yesterday, it had three locations across the region where you could go to get your rain barrel.

Over the years the region has placed more than 34,000 rain barrels. That's got to be having an effect. It reduces the amount of water that the local authority needs to process and that saves the residents money as well since we pay for our water use here. But it is also better for all the flower and vegetable gardens in the area to use fresh rainwater rather than chemically enhanced and purified drinking water from the taps. So, good for the region, good for the pocket-book, and good for the environment.

And yet the phenomenon I witnessed and have referred to was something else which felt very Canadian to me but perhaps is not unique at all. The distribution of the rain barrels was to begin at 7:30 am. I duly ensured that I arrived in the parking lot of the big mall north of town exactly at 7:30. I am nothing if not punctual (usually). But I was already late. When I joined the queue there were more than 800 people ahead of me. At 7:30 in the morning! More than 800 people had arrived before 7:30 am for their chance at purchasing a rain barrel. Nor did it take long for another 500 or so people to join the queue after me. And that was it. Once all of the application forms were distributed (you need to verify your address to participate in the rain barrel scheme) the organisers closed the line. And so we formed an orderly and friendly queue winding back and forth across the large parking lot of the mall. Children were laughing, friends were spotting each other at different points of the queue and waving, the ubiquitous Tim's coffees were in the hands of the lucky few who perhaps had anticipated a bit of a wait. I chatted with the young couple ahead of me in line and the elderly lady behind me. The queue moved forward at a regular pace. And within 90 minutes I was up at the front receiving my new rain barrel.

I am left wondering what the motivating factor is that gets 1500 varied people out of bed to stand in a line early on a Saturday morning. It goes without saying that Canadians just love a bargain. So maybe that was it. Or maybe while I was out of the country living in England the environmental consciousness simply took hold. I hope that was it. But I have this feeling that we just love joining a queue.

Last night it rained. Just 11mm. But it's a start.

A whole new desktop

What, me upgrade? I don't think so. These days when I want the latest and greatest version of Ubuntu (today it is 9.04, the Jaunty Jacalope) I wipe my entire Linux partition and start from scratch. From a clean disk to full installation takes about 30 minutes. (I'm doing this on a dual boot laptop with 2GB of RAM and plenty of disk space.) After that it takes me probably another hour or more spread over a few days to get my new system almost exactly like my old one. The bottleneck in the process for me is downloading the .iso file and burning the image. It can easily take 3 or 4 hours even with a high-speed home connection such as I have. And I am much more aware now (after recent visits to Nepal, Mali, and Malawi) than I ever was before how that number multiplies in other parts of the world, enough to make it implausible to undertake on a whim. I know that in future I will always travel with my latest Ubuntu cd so that I can share it with friends and colleagues.

I have installed new versions of Ubuntu now every 6 months for 3 or 4 years. It always makes my day. I put the date of the new release in my calendar and look forward to it with pleasure. When the day finally arrives it is always a challenge to hold off from rushing out and getting the .iso file immediately. Pragmatically I think to myself that the servers around the world will be getting hammered that first day, but equally pressing is the delight in extending the anticipation. Soon enough my will weakens and in what seems like no time I have it, a whole new desktop.

Starting over and afresh appeals to me.

It is also a lot less painful these days since I now live half my life in the clouds, so to speak. I have been letting Google look after my email for some time. More recently I started testing a service that supports syncing of files across multiple computers called Dropbox. I install it on my new clean desktop and within minutes I have all the key document files that I have on my other operating system readily available to me without the issues involved in mounting or writing to NTFS partitions. Very convenient. (It is sort of like using Subversion for version control.) After that there isn't much more needed for my new desktop to be fully operational given that Ubuntu, out of the box, comes with virtually everything I need. I also need to install a Java JRE so that I can continue using jMemorize and I add a French keyboard layout as well for my input of French text for that. I'll have a bit of fiddling at some point to get the drivers installed for my wireless printer, but merely because I've only done that once before and I don't recall precisely what I did, although I don't remember it being too hard. And lastly I have to get Skype up and running because that is what is used for communication in my work.

A clean slate to fully operational. And then 6 months of letting it fall into a messy state as I install software I don't fully understand in order to play with it and learn something. And then another whole new desktop.

If I could organise my life the same way, I would.