The eye is an incredible organ, but it has its limits. We can’t see infrared or ultraviolet, much less anywhere else along the massive electromagnetic spectrum. We can’t see very well at night or when we’re surrounded by a lot of reflected sunshine. The eye is particularly susceptible to defects, from myopia and astigmatism to cataracts and floaters–not unexpected in what is essentially a high-precision organic instrument, but definitely a limitation. Aeons ago, for example, someone with vision like mine would have had the nickname, “Food for Wolves.”
Another limitation of our otherwise remarkable eyes is that we can’t see subtle, minute shifts in light or color. Our eye (or, more accurately, our brain) averages them out, giving us a more stable view of the world than one in which we see the quaking of each individual leaf in a gentle breeze or the shudder of everything in the room as a heavy truck rolls by outside.
But a team of scientists at MIT have found that where our eyes fail us, a computer can give us a helping hand.
It’s a sad fact of life, but publishing is a business. Not only that, it’s a cutthroat business. So is bookselling.
It’s been a long, tough week. I’ve been on-call at work, and the emphasis has been on “call.” But my stint ends this afternoon, and I’ll have the weekend to rest, relax, maybe spend some time in the garden.
Fritz Lang’s 1931 film “
It’s pissing down rain in Seattle. The lecherous wind tugs and young women’s skirts as they tick-tock their high-heeled way to work, and the few who bothered with umbrellas wish they’d left them at home. The sky is locked down in gunmetal grey and the sun is a dim memory, consumed by the overhead drear. It’s already been a long work-week for me, having put in three days’ worth before the end of Day Two, and I haven’t slept well for worrying about my family, still roiling from our matriarch’s recent death.
