BlooP and FlooP and GlooP

Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid... Sure, it may be a book about “science.” But honestly, this book inexplicably displays an art of thought, so to speak, that is not seen in any books that carry the same feared category. If you’re looking for a quick read, or just easy entertainment, you will not find it here. This book takes time, and when I say this book takes time, I mean this book literally takes a long time. Each page holds a sense of deep meaning that will make you dwell over the words until your brain swells and explodes all over the pages… in a good way.
From the perspective of an untypical high school student who loves learning new things, I thoroughly enjoy this book. I purposely use the present tense in order to declare the timelessness that GEB presents. It enables you to withdraw a seemingly infinite amount of information with only seven hundred pages to veil the surrealism of potential within the text. Then again, if you’re someone who set down a book because it’s too “difficult” or “there is just too much thinking,” than this book is not for you. Typical high-school students will pass over this book without much of a second glance, but I encourage you to give it a try. If you’re someone who looks a little deeper into things, than this is for you.
Through his first attempt at greatness, Douglas Hofstadter is like a modernized Aristotle. Meaningless symbols inherit meaning, despite being withdrawn to nothing through his elegant relegation of typical thought. The book also delves deep within unheard of psychological and philosophical studies such as Propositional Calculus, the art of thought, artificial intelligence, and strange loops that all together rival modernized ideas in order to establish a place for even newer ones. He somehow tunnels his way to tickle the parts of your brain that you know have never been ticklish before. Even to the point where you actually stop reading because you feel like your habitual method of logical thinking has been purged and violated into an unrecognizable heap of stinky dung. No other book has made me feel this stupid, and you may beg the question, “If it makes you feel stupid, than why do you like it so much?” It is for this very reason that I say; “I’m getting considerably smarter with each and every paragraph… I need this book.”
This book thrives as that habitual guilty pleasure for that small niche of readers out there. And in that sense, most people will probably find it to be a waste of time. But for those of you who give it a try and give it quite a bit of devotion… you will be grateful for the rest of your life. This is one of those books… one of the select few that you would take onto “Desert Island” with you.
GEB takes multiple questions of strange philosophy and sends them spiraling downward through paradoxical strangeness with your brain hanging on by the thread of a neuron. It even meanders drunkenly into the strange world of “Zen.” Where the art of “not thinking” arises as a noble and virtuous desire while still surrounded by “Typographical number theory” and programming languages of computer science. It uses paintings, carvings, musical pieces, mathematical theorems, and even some cleverly invented dialogue stories to engage and entertain an American audience that will probably claim to have an attention disorder.
If you do have the opportunity to purchase this book, please make sure to pick up the 20th anniversary edition. Listed at a mere $22.95, it includes an extremely well thought out attempt to clarify the intention of the author, by the author. This helps illuminate a lot of complicated ideas and gives you insight as to what Hofstadter was trying to do. GEB: 20th Anniversary Edition is worth the upgrade, at only a few dollars more than the original. Again, this book is for a very small niche of readers who enjoy untypical thought and exiled ideas. I would feel bad for revealing the ending to you, the grand conclusion, the amazing finale… but the thing is, this book holds a ruminating revelation at every single turn of the page.