Morning Roundup

Et Tu, Posh Spice!

It’s doubtful that any well-adjusted (one might argue: regular) person would expect either a meaty anecdote, much less a bon mot from one-time Spice Girl Victoria Beckham. But I happen to be one of those strange aging men who has retained a soft spot for the Spice Girls and kept the faith over the years . In fact, I’m not ashamed (nor should you be!) to confess that I not only forked out eight bucks for Spice World, but actually enjoyed it!

Throughout the past decade, when in the doldrums, I have turned on “Wannabe,” danced like an ungraceful Caucasian within the privacy of my own bedroom, and connected with the deceptively primitive cadences of “So tell me what you want, what you really really want, I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ha.”

All along, I’ve had faith that there was something more to these many “wannas.” Perhaps somewhere between the “I” and the “wanna,” the brief pause (as the Spice Girls recaptured their breath) suggested a secret existential void that imparted a certain fortune cookie wisdom from performer to listener. It was, one might argue, a fortune cookie of one’s own making, formed within that milisecond of pause and inhale.

So it disheartens me in the extreme to learn that, all along, the Spice Girls have lied to me and that I’ve been led astray. They are indeed authentically vapid.

Or at least one of them is.

The latest news from England is this: Victoria Beckham, the Spice Girl once known as Posh Spice, has, despite having authored a 528-page autobiography, never read a book in her life. “I prefer listening to music,” says Posh, “althogh I do love fashion magazines.”

Fashion magazines! No possibility of her whispering sweet Shakespearean sonnets into anyone’s ear (well, specifically, that caveman soccer star Beckham’s) anytime soon. Heaven help her children.

How did she get through school? Who sent the checks to the headmasters? Isn’t this attitude a bit like performing fellatio but not receiving cunnilingus in return? More importantly, what hope for Ms. Beckham’s autobiography if she ain’t read none of dem books?

Because of this, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to turn my back on the Spice Girls and sell all of my Spice Girls album to Ameoba, if they’ll take them. This was a tough decision. But I’m a man of honor. And frankly there is nothing that turns me off more than a lady who don’t read.

Who is Brian Leiter (And Who Really Cares) and Why Did He Invite Himself to Write a Bitter Blog Post?

Brian Leiter quibbles over the New York Times‘ decision to run a lengthy review by William T. Vollmann on the new Curtis Cate biography of Frederich Nietzsche. Mr. Leiter, who apparently is a professor of philosophy, suggests that Vollmann has no expertise in the subject and displays none in his review.

I think Leiter is confusing the act of reviewing a biography (which does, after all, concern itself with a subject and his personal details first) with the act of summing up a man’s philosophy. Aside from Leiter subscribing to the traditional “credentialed” nonsense that often comes from bitter academics (perhaps because, while Leiter remains institutionalized and apparently quite miserable — in Texas, no less — Vollmann is busy turning out endless volumes of books, including a seven-volume treatise on violence), he concerns himself with Vollmann’s alleged failure to discuss Nietzsche’s philosophical ideas.

Leiter suggests that Vollmann “bizarrely ascribes” a “realism” to Nietzsche and suggests that Nietzsche does not hold the view that “cruelty is innate,” complaining that Vollmann fails to cite a specific passage. I’m fairly certain that Vollmann was suggesting one of Nietzsche’s most infamous statements from Thus Spake Zarathrusta, something that a certain Austrian perhaps took too much to heart: “Man is the cruelest animal. Whatever is most evil in his best power and the hardest stone for the highest creator.” Far from a “People magazine speculation,” Vollmann is willing to give the NYTBR readership the benefit of the doubt, presuming that they are familiar with Nietzsche’s basics. Further, Vollmann framed the “realism” within quotes, leaving little question to the reader that this was a speculation on Nietzsche’s capacity to tell the truth about the human race. This commonality, of course, what separates Vollmann’s work from many of his contemporaries on both the fiction and the nonfiction fronts.

Leiter suggests that Aristotle’s influence was “notable for his almost total absence from the corpus” and then deflates his argument by pointing to a few examples. I would argue that to dwell into the exact nature and percentage of Aristotle’s influence upon Nietzsche is to not only quibble over pedantics (something that more properly serves the purpose of academic journals, with their reams of paper quibbling over singular passages), but to ignore the realities of editing and publishing a major newspaper that is designed, after all, for mass consumption.

Leiter then offers a cheap shot, suggesting that Vollmann’s stroke has impaired his abilities to think. He then continues on this Aristotle tangent. However, I will agree with Leiter about his nitpicking concerning “individual Jews,” even though his own observation is largely a red herring.

Mr. Leiter’s post is more blustery than helpful and is about as uninviting as it gets. Personally I’m just a guy who knows a little more than the basics about Frederich N. and I’m sure Leiter certainly knows much more than I do about philosophy. But if Leiter seriously believes that the New York Times Book Review is intended to be serious and intellectual, then he clearly hasn’t followed its decline since the Bill Keller pledge to go more commercial from early 2004 and is similarly “uncredentialed” to weigh in. I also sincerely doubt nepotism factored into Sam Tanenhaus’s decision to hire Vollmann. Vollmann has always existed on an uncompromising edge, daring to write about issues that most novelists and journalists keep their heads in the sand about, and has faced a certain stigma enforced by folks too flustered to hear the truth.

While I agree to some extent with Leiter’s cri de coeur for intellectualism, his arrows here are misplaced. A biography is not a philosophical text, nor necessarily a response to philosophy. It tells us about a man and his details, yes. But it is not necessarily concerned with philosphy — although, it is helpful to the scholar wanting to find additional (if tertiary) context.

Summarizing Traister

If you decide not to read this dumb and ridiculous Rebecca Traister article, here’s a summary:

First midlife crisis at 31. Where do I begin? Ah, yes, memory lane. Blame a book. Piggy! Name too funny for character, dismiss book. I was diligent and smart. Because I could outsmart Quakers without reading the book! I was better than them and now I’m a writer! In your face, ex-schoolmates! Can’t really break down “sooey” in phonetics, but what the hell, I need a transition point. Overintellectualization of book I barely remember. Never really liked this book, so I’ll go off the deep end here. Rape! Murder! Mother England! Guess the book sucks and junior high was foolish. Still better than you.

Pero, Piense en Los Niños!

Our Rocky Mountain pal and colleague has the scoop on the campaign to divest Denver’s libraries of racy fotonovelas. After having removed 6,000 of these “tawdry” books, a full review of the libraries’ 2.5 million circulation is now being considered, leaving some wags to opine that “indecency” might be more of an elastic term than explicitly stated, perhaps used as a euphemism for purging the catalog of, shall we say, less Anglo-friendly titles.

Where She Stops, Nobody Knows!

  • Video game developer Vivendi Universal, in search of a Tom Clancy-style name, has signed a deal to develop games based on Ludlum’s thrillers. Ludlum’s death in 2001 will no doubt ensure creative flexibility (or what’s known in the field as “pillaging in front of a gravestone”).
  • When you run out of television remakes to film, there’s always cheesy 1970s science fiction. The Cell director Tarsem Singh is on tap to remake Westworld. The Governator was originally on board to play the android played by Yul Brynner, but he’s a bit busy. A pity, given that he seems to play machines, whether cinematic or political, quite well.
  • Jim Crace’s The Devil’s Larder has been turned into theatre. Dominic Cavendish says there’s not much to chew on.
  • Christopher Sorrentino’s Trance gets a review in the Mercury News. Sorrentino is accused of being “more impressed with his own voice than the humanity of his characters.”
  • I report this only because Mr. Esposito tortured me by showing me his seven volume Rising Up set the other night. As noted last week by Bookdwarf, this weekend’s NYTBR featured an appearance by the Vollster. He takes on the new Nietzsche bio at length.
  • Newsday chronicles some of the ways that publishers are trying to generate new interest in titles. Many publishers are distributing the first two chapters of a novel. But one teacher by the name of Jackie Spitz remarks, “I only took it because I felt sorry for the people handing it out.” Our heart is all a-trembling over Ms. Spitz’s noble munificence. In fact, as I write these words, I am sobbing into an issue of FHM that I found in my next door neighbor’s trash, watching my tears stream down some beautiful lady bent into an unfortunate position that resembles modular furniture. But I’m also wondering why niche markets and such projects as Vidlit and the LBC aren’t mentioned in the article. When will publishers realize that randomly giving chapters away to ad hoc educators isn’t nearly as effective as targeting people who actually read?
  • Time asks Bret Easton Ellis how “true” Lunar Park is. Apparently, Jay McInerery wasn’t thrilled by his “cameo appearance” as a cokehead buddy.
  • A new book of criticism studying Irvine Welsh’s work is out. But the International Herald Tribune asks if Welsh deserves to be compared with other authors.
  • Is the great rock’n’roll novel at death’s door?
  • The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana: an anti-Proust novel?
  • The Boston Globe examines literary hoaxing.
  • Riverhead editor Sean McDonald talks with Mr. Sarvas.
  • And E.L. Doctorow takes Bush to task, suggesting that Bush does not know what grieving is.

In Other Words, R.A. Montgomery Has a Great Case For a Lawsuit

Variety: “Ben Affleck is in talks to create and write ‘Resistance,’ a potential drama series about a second American Revolution that he’ll exec produce with Live Planet partner Sean Bailey….’Resistance,’ to be produced by Touchstone and Live Planet, will be set in the not-so-distant future, imagining a United States that’s been divided into separate countries following a pair of catastrophic terror attacks”

(Choose Your Own Adventure) Escape by R.A. Montgomery: “By the year 2035, the United States has been split into three hostile provinces — Dorado, Rebellium, and Turtalia. You are a spy working for the Turtalian democracy and you must escape from the hostile Dorado.”

Sorry Stanley, But That Monolith’s Too Rectangular for Our Target Demographic

Mindjack’s Ian Dawe points to this Terry Gilliam interview, where Giliam reveals that the Miramax people refused to allow a nose prosthetic to be applied to Matt Damon. Dawe asks, “[Harvey Weinstein]’s willing to bankroll some of the greatest directors working (Scorsese, for instance), but treats them as if they were working in the old Hollywood studio system. Is this really the best that we can do by our filmmakers in 2005?” [More on Gilliam can be found in today’s New York Times, where Gilliam says of Hollywood, “If there was an Old Testament God, he would do his job and wipe the place out. The only bad thing is some really good restaurants would go up as well.” He also notes that the excellent actress Samantha Morton was replaced by Lena Headey.]

Mass-Market Paperbacks and Auctorial Legacies

Today’s New York Times reports on the emerging trend of mass market paperbacks being published in larger type. Much of this has been effected to placate the declining eyesight of baby boomers. The new mass market books, being larger in size, have also seen their prices go up a few bucks to $9.99. Discount retailers (read: Wal-Mart) have, of course, complained. Additionally, the Times article reports that some have complained about how unwieldy the larger size books are.

But the Times fails to consider the larger issue here: With this new larger-print format, will we begin seeing books over a certain length denied this sizable consumer base? If the high watermark was once set at 300 pages, will this be reduced to 200 or so because of prohibitive costs? In other words, does this close the door on ambitious novelists finding an audience through airport bookracks?

Granted, mass market paperbacks aren’t really a sanctuary for literary titles. But they can be an effective format for allowing a midlist author to become more of a household name. (Regrettably, it is usually the likes of John Grisham and James Patterson that succeed along these lines.)

Or is this perhaps a disingenuous way to squeeze out the mass-market paperback and turn the trade paperback into the paperback format of choice? After all with only about a $5 difference between the mass-market paperback and the trade paperback, the reader voracious for an author’s latest is more likely to pony up the dough early if the print remains comparable and the trade paperback’s size is more managable than the mass-market paperback.

If that’s the case, then I’d like to see publishers be honest about the situation. Like most readers, I often like to put a book in a coat pocket, particularly if it’s the only item in my possession. Unfortunately, with some trade paperbacks, this is damn near impossible and results in the book’s ends being curved so the book will fit into the pocket, resulting in a battered and dog-earred copy that quickly falls apart. That’s probably the basic idea. But if these paperbacks are doomed to fall apart, with the original trade paperback concept becoming more accepted, I’m wondering if this dwindling durability will restrict such authors as Sam Lipsyte and David Mitchell from having their work endure for tomorrow’s literary scholars.

Toilet-Based Promotion

Jeff digs up this mysterious Craig’s List job listing, which involves a $100,000 all-expenses paid duty to drive across the country with a toilet seat on his head to promote Toilet: the Novel (a book written by the the maybe late, maybe alive Michael Szymczyk and published by the vanity outfit Authorhouse). There are apparently three positions available. This would seem out of step with previous Toilet-centric lucre. A previous ad placed on the Washington D.C. Craig’s List paid out a meager 35 dollars for an afternoon’s work.

Now when we were at BEA, we observed a gentleman with a toilet seat on his head who was walking the floor. He was essentially ignored by all concerned. It was remarked by one of our colleagues that this gentleman had appeared the previous year and had received some local newspaper notice and a quick mention in Publishers Weekly. He’s even sneaked onto the Wikipedia “existentialism” page.

If someone has so much money to burn, we’re wondering why they would go to all this trouble. After all, $300,000 (assuming Szymcyzk has it) can probably buy more than a few TV spots, newspaper ads, and probably set the Vidlit folks up for a good clip. When we see a toilet seat, we don’t exactly think “literary novel.” We think toilet reading. Is this some Masonic conspiracy or the result of an out-of-control, Howard Hughes-like eccentric?

Some casual Googling reveals Szynczyk as a rambling philosopher who has received blurbs from the likes of Stephen King, Will Smith and Quentin Tarantino (who can say if these are real or illusory or kindly boiler-plate responses?). Further, Szymczyk was apparently banned from the Frankfurt Book Fair for an anti-Bush presentation.

Szymczyk might be an able activist, but we’re wondering if he’s either a crank or a misunderstood genius — perhaps attempting to upstage Gerard Jones. Of course, if Szymczyk wants to send a copy of his book to our PO Box, we’ll be happy to offer a careful report. He’ll still have to learn the difference between an “advanced copy” and an advance copy.

Booker: The Real Authorities

While the BBC reduces the Booker Prize to stunt reading (“I push away comics, Doctor Who, Playstation, television, DVDs and the internet. [sic] All of a sudden this does not seem such a good idea.” Oh, we weep at this young man’s sacrifice.), the real authority, MOTEV, weighs in over at Mark’s. Among some of the more shocking revelations: an official stance on Zadie Smith’s qualifiations and a forthcoming handicap of the awards.

Be Naughty!

We were reminded Thursday evening that there’s this fantastic place called the Outside World, where people congregate and converse and marvelous human behavior goes down. So the next episode of Bat Segundo still lingers in a close-to-final state of completion. Keep watching the skies. About ninety minutes of new content is coming over the course of two shows.

But let’s talk of the Naughty Reading Photo Contest. Yes, there’s been a pleasant din buzzing about, with people planning fantastic ideas. But we’ve received only one entry! While we expect the floodgates to open closer to the deadline for entries (August 31), as literary folks are often procrastinators, we remain quite concerned that people here seem to think that reading is a wholesome activity. We remind our readers that reading is also a solitary task, which means that there’s plenty of wiggle room here for deviance. The nation may be ensnared in a puritanical atmosphere, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be. So if you’ve got what it takes, the time has come to put your camera where your passion is. We dare you to be naughty!

Against the Crouton

The time has come to declare war on a culinary obstruction that has caused untold grief for contemporary eaters. I speak, of course, of the crouton: a vile, square-like embellishment that gets in the way of tasty vegetables and is completely incompatible with a salad’s raison d’etre. Should our war be successful (and I assure you, it is a jihad), I shall not be sorry to see the crouton expire. No Geneva Convention can possibly apply here. For the crouton is bunk and must be exterminated as swiftly as possible.

Let’s quibble first over the crouton’s texture, which is often as hard and as impenetrable as the Berlin Wall. When one plunges a fork into a salad, one expects the tines to pierce through like a smooth needle through fabric. But let’s say that a crouton happens to be inside the natural trajectory of the fork’s thrust. As the fork dives into a pleasant leaf of lettuce, perhaps hitting a modest portion of a tomato or onion, perhaps pleasantly lubricated by viscious vinegar, the fork is hindered from its final descent because of this dreadful crouton. The fork user looks down, perplexed, and is likely to cry out, “What the fuck?” A moment of perfection, involving fork plunging into salad, forkful of salad moving to the mouth, and tasty digestion, has been denied. And it’s all because of the crouton.

Now granted, the optimist is likely to try again. But if the salad is polluted by too many croutons, then she will face the same calamity. The only cure for this condition is to adjust the alignment of the fork so that it resembles a spoon and scoop sideways. But since this is lettuce we’re talking about here, and since a fork is not, in fact, a spoon, but a four-pronged instrument featuring small rectangular abysses, the lettuce, being often a thin sheath that requires a forced coupling, is likely to fall between the tines. Even if we presume that the lettuce has formed a blanket to prevent any remnant vegetables from slipping through the cracks, the weight of the crouton might allow a fantastic shredded piece of carrot to fall asunder. Gravity, being what it is, will force all remaining salad components to fall from the fork, which is enough to bring even the most hearty optimists of our world to the same ineluctable cry: “What the fuck?”

From a taste perspective, the crouton also fails. Since the crouton has been fricaseed beyond any redemptive value, it seems designed to provide a harder counterpart (in short, variety) to the soft and naturally crispy texture of vegetables. But while you will encounter humans gnawing on raw carrots and tomatoes, you will very rarely see them snacking on a box of croutons. If the crouton itself cannot stand alone, why then should it partner up with the salad?

Further, there is the troubling fluctuation in the crouton’s hardness. Some croutons are somewhat manageable. Other croutons will crack molars. Nobody has been able to come up with a consistency or standard. Thus, the eater plagued by invasive croutons is doomed to this Russian Roulette.

Who was the asshole who came up with the crouton? Was he a sadist? And why did the crouton catch on? Surely, the crouton’s enduring legacy means that someone must like it. If this is the case, where then are the crouton fan clubs?

Perhaps the ultimate test is the crouton’s cultural bearing: While one might prepare a sonnet to a lover, comparing testicles to ripe cherry tomatoes or wanting to “wrap around you like lettuce” or “lick your sweat off like dressing,” can one ensconce the crouton in a salacious or even a romantic context? Not at all. There isn’t a part of the body that is as square or as tough as the crouton. No surprise that, when compared with the crouton, the human body is much more interesting.

SF Sightings: Norman Solomon

Last night, at Modern Times Bookstore, Norman Solomon spoke on his new book, War Made Easy. War Made Easy is organized by chapters headlined by statements that Solomon believes the media perpetuates (sample chapters include “If This War Is Wrong, the Media Will Tell Us” and “Opposing the War Means Siding with the Enemy”) . The book delves into the last forty years of media reaction to government policy, beginning with LBJ’s 1965 oft-overlooked invasion of the Dominican Republic and extending into the present Iraq conflict, using specific statements parsed directly from politicians and framed within the context of media theorists such as Susan Sontag and I.F. Stone.

Solomon had a chiseled face, a recurrent and well-timed smile that might easily disarm small animals, and an adorable mop of curly dark hair well-streaked with flecks of gray. He was dressed in a light blue oxford shirt and dark pants, attire indicative of a suave journalist, and wore a calculator watch on his left wrist, presumably to balance his checkbook when catching a flight to Tehran.

There were roughly 35 people in the crowd, predominantly activists and, to my dismay, predominantly men, leaving me to wonder why women weren’t showing up to this. Was it because the book had the word “war” in the title? About half of them were quite gray-haired, with the remaining half inhabiting a wide swath of temporal increments under the age thirty-five.

Solomon began by evoking the anonymous graffiti spray-painted in Bogota, “LET’S LEAVE PESSIMISM FOR BETTER TIMES,” which he suggested was applicable to living under the Bush Administration. He noted that only one newspaper (the Los Angeles Times) had reviewed his book so far, but that it had been selling comparatively well for a political hardcover.

Solomon honed in on 1965 because he says that before this, the United States was not invading countries at this time.

Solomon talked about the 1965 Dominican Republic invasion, pointing out how it was comparatively obscure to other conflicts of the day (such as Vietnam). But he noted that for some people, such an invasion is not obscure at all. There remains the legacy of U.S. involvement. He noted too that when visiting Iran, he could feel the effects of what happened in 1953 — not just with the coup, but of the spirit of Mossadegh, whose ousting he viewed as a particular tragedy because he was an educated and secular leader. And that this spirit led in part to the 1979 revolution. Solomon had recently visited Iran and, in a question later asked of him, he remarked that despite the repression, he encountered more of a civil society in Iran than in Iraq.

He bemoaned the inability for Americans to see world events from someone else’s vantage point, pointing out that government is unwilling to do this. The excuses behind the Dominican invasion were largely bogus. And as Solomon began looking into other conflicts, he remarked, “I couldn’t find any war not based on deception.”

He declared Tony Blair “the smart man’s George Bush” and dwelled upon how Blair’s recent statement that “the ability to use common sense” would be used to seek detractors. Solomon remarked that he thought it was the law’s duty to protect against what some people’s notions of what common sense entails.

Solomon pointed to a Department of Defense press conference, in which “Welcome back” had been lodged inexplicably in the middle of a transcript, without any indication that a segue had occurred. He saw in this transcript all sorts of references to “a modern-day Hitler” and said that if he ever released another edition of War Made Easy, that he would likely include a chapter describing this common association.

Specifically, Solomon zeroed in on three symbols of unreality that current media engages in: (1) denial of information (and here, Solomon quoted Aldous Huxley), (2) things that are not true that are taken as truisms, and (3) the numbing anaesthetic quality of media that forces media consumers to shut down.

Questions were then asked. Strangely, Solomon was asked to weigh in on the television show, Over There, to which he didn’t offer an opinion. When pressed for a prediction about U.S. involvement in Iran, he said that he believes there will be a very good chance of an air attack on Iran in the next year. He believes the troops should get out sooner rather than later. He said he didn’t buy the rationale that dicates, “Well, I didn’t support the war, but now we have to stay.”

Solomon remarked that he viewed NPR as the biggest tool of the Bush Administration because so many people trust it. He expressed distaste for a recent interview with Laurence Korb on All Things Considered, where the idea that we should have enlisted more people in the military is now being passed off as a liberal notion.

How did War Made Easy get published? Solomon likened the ability to get his book (and other related books) published to cracks in the wall. He remarked that the corporate dominance of book publishing is understated, but didn’t really elaborate too much on this. He suggested that word of mouth and grassroots support had done more for this book than anything else.

His Dark Adaptation?

Is there new hope for the film adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials? It would seem so. After seeing Tom Stoppard’s contributions eviscerated by Chris (American Pie) Weitz, only for Weitz to weasel out at the last minute, Anand Tucker is now on board to direct. Tucker made one of the best films of 1998, Hilary and Jackie. And anyone who can get Emily Watson and Brenda Griffiths to offer some of the best performances of their careers while also making a cello’s presence ominous has my unmitigated support.

Unfortunately, it looks like Weitz is still on board the project and while Tucker will be whacking the script into shape (with Weitz), Tucker has no screenwriting experience to speak of. If we can’t have Stoppard, then here’s hoping that Hilary and Jackie writer Frank Cottrell Boyce somehow becomes involved so that Weitz’s potential treacle might be kept under control. (via Ghost in the Machine)

Segundo & Stuff

Things will probably be quiet here today. We’re still mixing this week’s show and prepping for next week’s. Expect these two Segundo podcasts perhaps over the next five days. We have Mr. Segundo working overtime and he isn’t particularly happy about this.

We’ve also begun our long-neglected story-by-story breakdown on The Rainbow Stories for the Vollmann Club so that we can at long last move onto the next book. Here’s hoping our able colleagues are doing the same.

The email is hopelessly backlogged. We’re doing our best to respond. Really, we are.

In the meantime, keep those naughty photos coming!

Booker Longlist Announced

The longlist has been announced:

Tash Aw, The Harmony Silk Factory
John Banville, The Sea (Someone‘s going to be really happy.)
Julian Barnes, Arthur & George
Sebastian Barry, A Long, Long Way
J.M. Coetzee, Slow Man
Rachel Cusk, In the Fold
Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go
Dan Jacobson, All for Love
Marina Lewycka, A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian
Hilary Mantel, Beyond Black
Ian McEwan, Saturday
James Meek, The People’s Act of Love
Salman Rushdie, Shalimar the Clown
Ali Smith, The Accidental
Zadie Smith, On Beauty
Harry Thompson, This Thing of Darkness
William Wall, This is the Country

The First Annual RotR Naughty Reading Photo Contest

Since we are somewhat time-challenged at the moment, we’ve decided to embark on an ill-advised idea that calls for your participation.

Return of the Reluctant hopes to shake up these pristine pages with the First Annual Naughty Reading Photo Contest.

What we would like our readers to do is send us your visual approximation of what naughty reading is. Naughty readers do not have to be exclusively female. To keep this thing equal opportunity (and desirable for any and all sexual persuasions), we want naughty male readers too. Send your entries in JPEG form to ed AT edrants.com before August 31, 2005. (Filesize should be no more than 60K per entry. Anything over that will be disqualified.) Photos are limited to one per participant. So do send us your best photo. We will post the photos (along with designated credit, if desired) as they come in and eventually establish them on a separate page.

So that there is some incentive for this thing, the winner will receive a Powell’s $20 Gift Card.

From here, we will announce three finalists which you, the readers, can vote on.

So have at it, naughty book lovers, academics and librarians alike! Show the world right now that reading is sexy and salacious!

The “I’ve Got Tedious Meetings But Here’s a Quick” Roundup