BBC: “He described Lookey as a ‘basic mind game, played with movies as game boards.’ The idea is for the viewer to identify all the Lookeys in the film – said to be between five and seven – with a prize of 30,000 Danish kroner (£2,728) going to the first person to do so.”
Month / December 2006
Goncourt A-Go Go
A Different Stripe points to this Adam Kirsch article about the Goncourt Brothers, who were the naturalist forerunner of today’s gossip columnists. I don’t entirely buy the NYRB‘s claim that the Goncourt Brothers’ journal (recently republished) represents “a masterpiece of French literature written during the era,” particularly since this comes from the people who published the book. But an excerpt can be found here and this 1937 Time article suggests that the journals, among the few Goncourt texts to make it into the 20th century, are a “racy record” and the Goncourts considered their friend Flaubert to be “a great water of time, forgetting himself in things he picks up to read, and constantly running away from the book he is writing.” Perhaps the Goncourts were among the first litbloggers.
The Worst Book Covers of 2006
Bookslut revealed the Best Book Covers of 2006. But, just as Sherlock Holmes has Moriarty, just as Doctor Who has the Master, and just as that 1040 tax refund has an overwhelming amount of paperwork, so too does the publishing industry have its bastard stepchildren.
Behold! Here are the worst book covers (often for perfectly worthwhile books) for 2006.
Eat the Document by Dana Spiotta: Bad enough that we see a monochromatic image of a woman clad in a sweater and jeans that tells us absolutely nothing about the book. (Is this an academic response to Our Bodies, Ourselves or a novel?) But that horrid yellow text, intended to capture the wretched typographical triumphs of the 1970s, causes this eyesore to be a classic case of a book being unfairly discriminated against by its cover. No wonder this fantastic novel didn’t sell so well earlier this year. Thankfully, the paperback version has a much better cover.
Talk Talk by T.C. Boyle: I don’t know about you, but nothing gets me more interested in reading a book than seeing an extreme close up of a mouth, complete with a pink saliva-drenched gum and a slightly offset tooth. The book’s title appears in the mouth’s cavernous onyx, suggesting to the reader that she will be eaten alive. But since there is no lower row of teeth here, how can the reader be sure of this? And what’s with the intermittent yellow text? Will the reader catch gingivitis? Is there any significance to the letter A? Or does the A stand for Ass? This is another good book marred by a gormless cover.
The Company by Max Barry: A glazed donut, per se, is not necessarily a bad thing, except of course when a photographer is foolish enough to get an extreme close-up of its transfat gooiness (complete with drop shadow!), the white frosting and oil revealed for its sickening nature courtesy of reflective light. What’s even more abysmal is that some unknown figure has taken a bite out of this disgusting donut. If I wanted to be reminded of the dark side of human gluttony, I’d spend the day at a Dunkin Donuts watching people deposit their spoils. This is a sickening cover. The photographer should have just hired a drunkard to spew into a bright red bucket. (You’ll notice too that the first three covers listed here use variants of yellow, little realizing that this hue is a hopeless choice unless you’re a really good designer.)
The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue: Hello Mr. Tree! Please be my friend! I’m stretching my arms in the air! Or not. Maybe I’m trying to wrap my arms impossibly around your great trunk? I really don’t know, but I’m sure the cover designer knows! Because there’s apparently GREAT IMPORT in my strange juxtaposition. But never mind me. You, Mr. Tree, are the reason why people should buy this book! You’re big and you’re strong and you’re gray! Really, really gray! Never mind that your size is outright preternatural or that you’re cast against a puke-green skyscape that will keep me off key lime pie for the next six months. This is a fairy tale! A fairy tale that must mean something.
Culture Warrior by Bill O’Reilly: Nothing says “this man means business” than a constipated-looking Bill O’Reilly dressed in a blue hoodie, with O’Reilly’s tousled hair (or what’s left of it) suggesting that the man’s recovering from a weekend bender at a ski resort. But in case you weren’t convinced of O’Reilly’s seriousness, there’s an American flag to his right. And in case you weren’t aware that this was a book about America, there’s red and white text, with the red text clashing horribly against the background photo.
Dishonorable Mentions: Richard Ford’s The Lay of the Land (blue as far as the eye can vomit!); Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss (would it have killed the designers to consider text legibility?); and Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion (a conceptual failure reminiscent of Minoru Yamasaki’s lifeless contributions to architecture).
Holiday Time Killer
The Top 50 Music Videos of 2006. Some obvious picks (OK Go, Gnarls Barkley), but any list that includes Xiu Xiu can’t be all bad.
Why The Spoken Word Grammies Are Useless
I could truly care less about Mary J. Blige’s nomination sweep of the Grammies. What does interest me is the Spoken Word aspect. Alas, this year’s Spoken Word set of nominees are about as far as one can get from genuine poets. Bob Newhart? Bill Maher? Sure, these folks are somewhat effective comedians in their own right, but they are hardly poets. Al Franken? Well, if whiny mainstream “comedians” who take no chances and tell liberals what they already want to hear are indicative of “storytelling,” then let the Two Buck Chuck flow.
This leaves us with Ossie Davis & Ruby Dee reading their autobiography and Jimmy Carter, who actually has written some poetry, although his nomination is for Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis, about as “poetic” in nature as Franken’s schtick.
Granted, the Grammies, like most awards ceremonies, are pretty pointless. And there’s no reason to expect them to honor the rich and eclectic millieu of audio books. But if the category in question “includes Poetry, Audio Books & Storytelling,” why doesn’t a single nomination feature poetry? If the celebrities are getting greater recognition, why not create a new category dedicated exclusively to literature?
Well, we can’t have that. Billy Collins, Maya Angelou, and Donald Hall aren’t nearly as sexy as Blige strutting her stuff. Gonna breakthrough? Not on your life.
Bill O’Reilly, Age Four
This is an eight year old criticizing Bill O’Reilly, Republicans and religion.
Bill O’Reilly has responded, claiming child abuse.
Only in America.
(via MeFi)
Roundup
- Book critic Merle Rubin has died. She was 57.
- Another unsung talent who recently passed away: film composer Shirley Walker. (I picked up this sad tidbit while listening to Your Mother Hates This Show, a promising cartoon-based podcast that really should be using a higher bitrate for their shows. Presently, these two enthusiastic gentlemen sound like discomobulated souls stuck in a ratty AM radio loosely mounted in a Studebaker one month away from a scrapyard. Gentlemen, you can do better!)
- Yo, George. Optioning John Grisham? Not sexy. Not sexy at all.
- Times mastheads from 1785. (via Books, Words & Writing)
- Jean-Paul Sartre’s The Flies is set to be staged with 30,000 live fruit flies. I’m surprised that local farmers aren’t raising their pitchforks in protest over this really bad idea. (via The Literary Saloon)
- Radiohead uses Moleskines. Time to find the next hip notebook.
- Norman Mailer vs. Rip Torn. (via the Rake)
- Largehearted Boy has an extremely impressive collection of year-end music lists.
- Diplo’s a busy man.
- 90210 revolutionary? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
- More fodder for the Slate Audio Book Club naysayers. Katie Roiphe on The Emperor’s Chldren: “My favorite novel this year was Claire Messud’s smart and entertaining The Emperor’s Children, for reasons I have already given in Slate. I’ve noticed it’s become fashionable to deflate it at parties, but it really is as good as everyone said before deflating it came into fashion.” Huh? I’d like to know what parties Katie the Airhead’s attending these days. And what the hell does any of this have to do with Messud’s literary worth?
- Andrew O’Hehir meets David Lynch. There’s also a podcast.
- Also at Salon: “I love journalism but I hate asking uncomfortable questions.” My two-sentence alternative answer: Thank you for playing. Step aside so that the real journalists can do their work.
Comedy: Rated XX
Christopher Hitchens: “If I am correct about this, which I am, then the explanation for the superior funniness of men is much the same as for the inferior funniness of women. Men have to pretend, to themselves as well as to women, that they are not the servants and supplicants. Women, cunning minxes that they are, have to affect not to be the potentates. This is the unspoken compromise.”
From Dana Goodyear’s profile on Sarah Silverman: “Several years ago, Jerry Lewis, then in his early seventies, reportedly told an audience at the Aspen Comedy Festival that he didn’t much care for female comedians and couldn’t think of one who was any good. Lewis’s views were criticized in public but upheld by some, in modified form, in private. ‘When you went home alone and did the math, he was just kind of right,’ Penn Jillette, the magician-comedian, says.”
Michael Williams: “All the funniest comedians are male, in every media — stand-up, TV shows, movies, books, you name it. When women are in the comedy genre, they usually play the straight ‘man,’ putting up with the male comedians’ nonsense with a sigh and a shrug. Furthermore, most comedies are aimed at men, and those demographers know what they’re doing; I bet that female-targeted comedies bomb in the box office.”
One might presume that laughter’s universal palliative would have rendered gender distinctions null and void and that the issue of whether a comedian is funny would rest upon a joke’s qualities, its delivery and its impeccable associations, rather than the comedian’s gender. But there remains a palpable stink in the air that must be examined. Women, say these pundits, are not funny. Or if they are funny, they are somehow lesser to men.
The comedy scene, despite advances in recent years, is dominated by men. And it’s interesting that many comediennes must employ shock value in order to be noticed. Consider Sandra Bernhard’s sexual candor or Sarah Silverman’s comic experiments with racism. Margaret Cho, who I believe to be very funny, has developed a loyal gay following. But why is Cho, because she is a self-avowed “fag hag,” lesser to Silverman because Silverman is, according to Goodyear, “approachable though deranged.”
Let’s consider Goodyear’s modifier: “approachable.” This suggests then that if a woman is funny, by the logic employed by The New Yorker, discounting the requirements of audience appeal, she must somehow stifle her comic impulses rather than greet the audience in her naturally tailored persona. And even when she’s a comic as successful as Silverman, there’s still the troubling problem of coming across as “deranged,” as if comedy, a science often rooted in madness, is a loony byway as closed off to women as the Herbertstraße.
Perhaps this is because humor is associated with intelligence and some men, terrified by the notion of a level playing field among genders, view the advent of funny females as a threat.
Which brings us to Hitchens’ article, as true a confession of Hitchens’ gender fears as it is a regrettable surrender of hearty logic. Relying upon an absurd array of generalizations, Hitchens first claims that women have no need to appeal to men in a humorous manner. And then, relying upon a Stanford University School of Medicine study, Hitchens views women’s “greater emphasis on language and executive processing” as the apparent smoking gun that women are “slower to get it.” But one might just as easily adduce that this uptake in brain activity involves women processing the jokes in a more holistic manner, paying more attention to the semantics and the environment in which the joke was delivered than their male counterparts. Hitchens also pooh-poohs women who were “swift to locate the unfunny.” Could not this cerebral celerity mean that women might just be better attuned to ferret out humor by way of identifying it?
If we infer that women are more mentally equipped to deliver the goods, why then is there a stigma? A Psychology Today article attempted to examine this issue, suggesting that men and women use humor differently, with men using humor to compete and women using humor to bond. While this assertion by no means foolproof and cannot account for humor’s rich complexities, perhaps it is this competitive urge that causes funny women to be marginalized and Christopher Hitchens to have a severe lapse in judgment.
Erma Bombeck once observed, “When humor goes, there goes civilization.” If women cannot be accepted for their humorous contributions (too great and numerous to list), then what hope civilization?
[UPDATE: Apparently, if you are a woman who expresses a serious disagreement with Hitchens’ piece or asks why it was published without being looked at, you’ve just another humorless bitch, as imputed by Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter. More from Sklar at the Huffington Post. (via Maud)]
This Week in Food Chain Problems
San Francisco Chronicle: “When the climate warms, there is a drop in the abundance of the ocean’s phytoplankton, the tiny plants that feed krill, fish and whales, according to scientists who say the just-released research offers new clues to future life under global warming. Ocean temperatures bounce up and down, but over the past century they have been warming along with the atmosphere. Nine years of NASA satellite data released today in the journal Nature show that the growth of phytoplankton drops in warm ocean years and increases in cooler ocean years.”
Yeah, We All Know How Well It Turned Out for Mao
CNN: “President Bush may be able to ‘announce a new way forward’ in Iraq by the end of the year, his chief spokesman told CNN Wednesday night.”
Three Words: Statute of Limitations
BBC: “Singer Olivia Newton-John has filed a legal action claiming she is owed more than $1m (£507,000) which was made from the Grease soundtrack album.”
Crispin Glover is Misunderstood
Return of the Reluctant — Robert Shields Version
5:10 PM-5:13 PM: I twiddled my thumbs, contemplating how to kill the last twenty minutes at work. I was sick and tired of answering email. So I figured another blog entry would do. I typed three sentences, then four. Pretty soon I was up to five. I leaned back in my Aeron chair at a 35 degree angle, staring out the window, which was still streaked by the telltale sign of sludge. Then I thought about how utterly pointless it was writing a blog entry in the style of Charles Shields. This wasn’t fair, given that I had only examined one page. And yet I found that this killed time quite nicely.
5:14 PM: Was the last three minutes of writing necessary? Probably not. But I shouldn’t be editorializing here. After all, I’m supposed to describe what I’m doing. And yet since I’ve been sitting on my ass, there isn’t much to say about this that’s exciting. Okay, I just scrunched up my left buttcheek for kicks. Nobody was looking. That’s worth something, isn’t it?
5:15 PM: I think about what happened during 5:14 PM. Did I really scrunch up my left buttcheek because I needed to write about something interesting? Well, yes, I did. Does this mean I’m a sex addict or an exhibitionist? Do I have an ass fetish that I haven’t sufficiently explored?
5:16 PM: I offer a Nazi salute to a co-worker and click my heels. He’s one of the few around here who understands my sense of humor. A risky proposition. I then say goodbye to another co-worker.
5:17 PM: I decide to stop writing in the style of Charles Shields and wonder if there’s any easy way out of this without drawing attention to myself. I scrunch my right buttcheek for symmetrical balance. I then Control-C and Control-V this post into Microsoft Word. 300 words. I’ve been doing this seven minutes. I’d feel a sense of shame if I fired up Accessories/Calculator. So I do the math in my head and it works out to about 40 words/minute.
5:19 PM: What happened to 5:18 PM?
5:19 PM, Part Two: That was too quick an entry for 5:19 PM. I don’t think I’ll ever have to take a nitroglycerine tablet. Or at least I hope not!
5:19 PM, Part Three: This is a long minute.
5:19 PM, Part Four: When will it be 5:20 PM?
5:20 PM-5:21 PM: I go to the restroom. I don’t really have to go, but it’s good exercise. I urinated more piss than I expected to. There is a man in one of the stalls using far too much toilet paper. I know who it is. This might explain why he walks funny.
5:22 PM: I think I preferred 5:21 PM over 5:22 PM.
The Real-Life Leeroy Jenkins
NBA Audio
The BookExpoCast page has podcasts of the National Book Awards ceremony, including Richard Powers’ speech (beginning at around 31:42). (via The Written Nerd)
Perhaps Dylan Stableford’s the Real Whore
Over at Fishbowl NY, Dylan Stableford remarks upon Jessica Cutler’s last-minute cancellation for a Mediabistro panel. Where most professionals would let such a cancellation go without comment, Stableford, who couldn’t possibly be thinking about Mediabistro’s interests at all, writes, “we’re shocked…that someone known for exchanging sex for money would behave this way.”
Bad enough that such a pissy post would be considered pertinent, but the attempt to taint Cutler here as a virago, when Cutler herself offered a reasonable (albeit last-minute) answer, is sleazier than a weekend NAMBLA gathering. And apparently, I’m not alone: the panel’s moderator, Rachel Kramer Bussel, also has some thoughts, pointing to the lawsuit’s possible ramifications and the need for care.
In a later post, Stableford attempts to soften Bussel’s charges, without, of course, pointing to the obvious fact that Fishbowl is owned and operated by Mediabistro.
Roundup
- I’m afraid I can’t agree with Nick Hornby’s assessment (and Scott’s apparent assent) that reading should be entirely enjoyable. For it subscribes to the idea that novels are almost total escapism, as opposed to a proper art. Proper reading, in my view, demands an intellectual challenge. This is not to suggest that an author can’t write books that are both entertaining and thoughtful. (A recent book that comes to mind is Scarlett Thomas’s The End of Mr. Y.) This is not to suggest that books that are intended to entertain are incapable of being assessed. Nor is this a matter of appearing sophisticated or impressing anyone. (Who knew that reading interests were about looking cool on the subway? I read because I’m interested, dammit, and I don’t give a damn how cornball or hip anyone view my reading selection to be.) But any active reader will raise the bar and insist upon books that are better. Any good reader will read widely and not pooh-pooh certain books because of where they happen to be categorized in a bookstore. Any good reader will continually challenge her perceptions and won’t pussyfoot around the idea that some books are bad (and that there are indeed reasons for this). Revolutionary? Nick Hornby is about as revolutionary as a starry-eyed nineteen year old who believes he can change the world: an insufferable naif; a dime a dozen.
- Robert Fulford offers this provocative story on reviewing ethics, suggesting that checking for conflicts of interest are unnecessary and prohibitive to discourse. (via TEV)
- Augusten Burroughs: the new James Frey? (More here.)
- An interesting questionnaire with Mary Gaitskill. All those fuddy-duddies who pooh-pooh comics might take stock in this assertion: “You shouldn’t listen to any music while reading anything but a comic book.” (Thanks, Stuart!)
- So Many Books on Bookforum: “This is an extremely dangerous magazine and should be read with care.” I have to agree. I have had many issues of Bookforum attempt to bite me, poison me, and otherwise abscond with my life. This is a magazine that should be locked up or be handled by lion tamers. I’m surprised Bookforum has lasted this long without a lawsuit.
- Asis Sentinel: “Is it appropriate for a registered charity dedicated to Sri Lanka’s December 2004 tsunami relief to sponsor a foreign literary festival in the middle of what to all intents and purposes is an ethnic and civil war?” And there you have it: twenty minutes of thoughtful cocktail party banter contained in this question alone. Impress all your literary pals and be sure to bring the gruyere!
- Calling all detectives! Help Mark Gompertz find his community! Where could Mr. Gompertz have misplaced it? Is Mr. Gompertz looking in the wrong place? Or did the community never exist in the first place? (Turn to Page 124 for the answer.)
- In The New Yorker, Tad Friend ruminates upon The Office.
- The Poetry Foundation reviews a four-disc box set that collects poetry readings dating back from 1888. (via Isak)
- Who knew? Those who have lower levels of self-esteem prefer crime and detective stories that confirm their suspicions. In other news, those who go to a website with a ridiculous graphic of a woman in a lotus position for their news are more likely to be duped by Nigerian email scams. (via Sarah)
- FoxTrot is going Sundays only. Alas, this unexpected development will not hinder UPS from polluting the funny pages with DOA ass-smelling dreck like Garfield and Ziggy.
- Hitch on Michael Richards and banning language.
- A breakdown of the 2007 Eisner judges.
- The real Giuliani.
- Fi’ty on Oprah.
Will Self’s “Journey”
Gray Lady sideshows don’t get any more navel-gazing than this Will Self trip to New York. Witness a “writer’s journey” as Self adjusts his technological device, adjusts his technological device while trying to cadge a flame (Self has now obtained a beverage!), is asked to pose in front of a Xmas display, still can’t find anyone to light his cigarette (cruel New Yorkers!) while ensuring that his books aren’t being sold for under a dollar (the technological device has returned and must be fiddled with some more! does it contain his Post-Its?), realizes that his bottled water is unsatisfactory (but is hep hep HEP thanks to Jay), is hassled by the photographer as he attempts to eat his lunch, examines a man jumping to his death from the Brooklyn Bridge in broad daylight, and has a near heart attack when he learns how expensive cigarettes are in New York.
Discuss with Class:
1. What is Mr. Self’s journey?
2. Why is there not a single computer or typewriter or pen in any of these photographs?
3. Did Mr. Self enjoy his meal and his bottle of water? And why should this matter?
4. Should the photographer be fired?
5. Was this silly photo session a quid pro quo for a Book of Dave review?
Look Out, Samuel Pepys
Liz Henry at The Other blog points to this fascinating entry on Robert Shields, a man who has kept up a diary for twenty years, working at it no less than four hours a day and recording everything that happens to him. His diary is 35 million words and a sample page can be found here. Apparently, the diary made its way to the Washington State University library, along with a $100,000 donation. Shields stopped in 1996.
Against the Fray
Thomas Pynchon may not have been susceptible to the Rake’s $49 check (and neither apparently is Dave Eggers), but the Ian McEwan flap has had Pynchon issuing a letter in support of McEwan.
Then again, on second thought, given that “indispensable” is misspelled in the letter, I’m wondering if this message truly came from Pynchon. Surely a man of his scrutiny wouldn’t have committed such a rudimentary solecism. And if Pynchon is referencing the Internet, why would he be working off a typewriter? I suspect a possible hoax, unless Pynchon, Ellison-like, clings obstinately to his typewriter. (via Maud)
Here’s the full text:
Given the British genius for coded utterance, this could all be about something else entirely, impossible on this side of the ocean to appreciate in any nuanced way — but assuming that it really is about who owns the rights to describe using gentian violet for ringworm, for heaven’s sake, allow me a gentle suggestion. Oddly enough, most of us who write historical fiction do feel some obligation to accuracy. It is that Ruskin business about “a capacity responsive to the claims of fact, but unoppressed by them.” Unless we were actually there, we must turn to people who were, or to letters, contemporary reporting, the encyclopedia, the Internet, until, with luck, at some point, we can begin to make a few things of our own up. To discover in the course of research some engaging detail we know can be put into a story where it will do some good can hardly be classed as a felonious act — it is simply what we do. The worst you can call it is a form of primitive behavior. Writers are naturally drawn, chimpanzee-like, to the color and the music of the English idiom we are blessed to have inherited. When given the chance we will usually try to use the more vivid and tuneful among its words. I cannot of course speak for Mr. McEwan’s method of processing, but should be very surprised indeed if something of the sort, even for brief moments, had not occurred during his research for Atonement. Gentian violet! Come on. Who among us could have resisted that one?
Memoirs of the Blitz have borne indispensible [sic] witness, and helped later generations know something of the tragedy and heroism of those days. For Mr. McEwan to have put details from one of them to further creative use, acknowledging this openly and often, and then explaining it clearly and honorably, surely merits not our scolding, but our gratitude.
Twin Peaks Season 2 to Hit DVD
As Mr. Tiffany has suggested, it’s time to break out the champagne. Season 2 of Twin Peaks is finally hitting DVD.
Can I Be Laureate Now?
The blog 3x3x3 sets the following criteria:
Pick 3 stories from Google News. Using only words that occur in the first few paragraphs of each story, make a poem with 3 stanzas, 3 lines each, no more than 60 characters per line. The 3-word title should use a word from each story. Be sure to include links to your 3 stories after the poem.
Okay, I’m game.
Prohibiting Crocodile Sex
Freshening up, young man snacking on a crocodile penis, protracted
Spiders and locusts, belching
Bite on his ear
Influence the first brasserie, artery-clogging
Unanimously approved the ban
An additional 12 months because it may take more time
Any sex between is a felony
Consensual? The first time with two, prosecuted under the law
Preferential treatment? Indicted
Sources:
Guardian: Where to next after a light snack of crocodile penis?
USA Today: New York becomes first city to ban trans fats.
Boston Herald: Correction officers indicted on charges they had sex with inmates.
Next Up: How to Staple Your Fingers to the Keyboard
As someone who is now in the brain-eviscerating (but fun!) throes of a first draft, Miss Ribon is quite correct.
The “I’m a Cranky Bastard” Roundup
- Why the war on endnotes? Personally, I find it extremely valuable to see where an author, fiction or nonfiction, culled his influences. (In fact, this issue came up recently in a Segundo interview that will be released later this month. The author was asked if another author had been particularly influential. As it turns out, they were both residing in the same building.)
- Douglas Coupland is now shilling for BlackBerry.
- Trouble in Edinburgh?
- Mr. Asher talks with Susan Winters Smith.
- Marilynne Robinson is offering tips to prisoners. Under the pretence of a fiction workshop, Robinson has been serving up cake recipes with unusual ingredients that should effectively elude X-rays.
- The Australian continues the tedious debate on litblogs vs. mainstream media. It gets many things wrong, but among the more preposterous claims is the idea that Critical Mass emerged because of the Litblog Co-Op. I know from talking with John Freeman that this was not the case at all and that he simply wanted to give the NBCC an online presence. Would it have killed Genevieve Tucker to get some actual quotes instead of speculating as she went along? (Oh wait! That would involve actual journalism!) The problem with Tucker’s article is that she insists upon a Manichean view of the literary critical world, when it is a far more complex tableau, often with considerable overlap.
- :A board game from 1825! (via Weekend Stubble)
- I’m unaware of the Volkswagen commercials because I don’t watch TV, but Scott gives me another reason not to.
- The complete Ray Harryhausen creature list.
- Grow a spine, Gwyneth.
- Far less ho-hum year-end book lists can be found at the TLS.
- Pete Anderson is composing clerihews.
Prof FuryGorjus takes in The Hold Steady. Yes, they are that good live.- ShoStoWriMo?
- Greg Johnson reviews Robert Sheckley’s Mindswap.
- Here’s something new: a film criticism blog-a-thon. (via The Quiet Bubble)
- NYRB goes blogging.
- Novelists? In Houston?
- I concur with Mark Boyer.
- The Corsair on Jay McInerney. I agree. They really don’t make asshats this size at the milliner’s.
“You! Alright? I Learned It From Watching You!”
BSS #83: Joe Meno, Todd Taylor, Todd Dills & Bucky Sinister
Authors: Joe Meno, Todd Taylor, Todd Dills and Bucky Sinister
Condition of Mr. Segundo: Responding to MySpace lies.
Subjects Discussed: Shirley Wins, pumpkin launching, Halloween, grandmothers, writing women convincingly, Sons of the Rapture, Strom Thurmond, the differences between North Carolina and South Carolina, moving to Chicago vs. moving to New York, Whiskey and Robots, populist poetry, the Icarus myth vs. Wayne Gretzky, independent book touring, BookScan, growing up books, novels that use fiction as an escape mechanism, Encyclopedia Brown, cryptograms, textual buildings, creating a sense of mystery, telemarketing, Mark Haddon, Alessandro Baricco’s Silk, Faulkner, Donald Barthelme, short chapters, savvy audiences and storytelling, inventiveness, how the success of Hairstyles affected Meno, sartorial colors, Dick Tracy, the Boy Detective play, and indie presses vs. corporate presses.
EXCERPT FROM SHOW:
Meno: For me, the book is about how as an adult you negotiate a world of mystery, a world where you don’t have the answers. And so I wanted the audience, or the reader as they were reading, to feel that sense of surprise. That when you’re a kid and you get a detective kit, you look at the world a little bit differently because of that object. And so I wanted the actual text to be surprising. As you were reading through it, you weren’t exactly sure technically what was going to happen. If you’d have a couple pages that were blank. Or if you’d have some of the text that was broken up into these small little buildings that go throughout the book or if there’d be a piece of text that was shaped like a cloud. And so that, you know, using the text itself to give that sense of mystery or surprise to the audience as they were going through.
A Problem from Hare
Is Julianne Moore’s Nadia Blye (a character in David Hare’s The Vertical Hour) a dead ringer for Samantha Power? The L.A. Times‘ Charles McNulty seems to think so. My future poker-playing buddy John Freeman also has thoughts.
Bringing New Meaning to Exterior Rollover
Zeenews: “Krause’s team (spraykondom.de) is developing a type of spray can into which the man inserts his penis first. At the push of a button it is then coated in a rubber condom. ‘It works by spraying on latex from nozzles on all sides,’ he said. ‘We call it the “360 degree procedure” — once round and from top to bottom. It’s a bit like a car wash.'”
Lazyass Roundup
- The Denver Post’s 50 Books to Wrap. No Lost Girls? I mean, it’s a beautiful book that, I suspect, is fun for the whole family. (via Bookdwarf)
- Inland Empire trailer. (via Matthew Tiffany)
- Salman Rushdie no longer fears for his life. He fears that his novels will become increasingly irrelevant.
- RotR fave John Barth gets an all-too-brief writeup from the Baltimore Sun. We’re talking a total of four sentences coming from Barth’s lips that are in the article. This is ridiculous. If you’re going to lowball such an interesting author like Barth, what’s the point in publishing this?
- Tori Spelling is writing a memoir. The first draft was composed by her intern.
- Literary speed dating has made its way to Melbourne.
- It’s a sure bet that Rory Ewins will be at Wembley.
- Shannon Garrity’s Narbonic will be ending on December 31, 2006. The strip has run continuously since July 31, 2000 without missing a single day. So Garrity has earned a vacation. Garrity appeared on The Bat Segundo Show #32. (via The Beat)
- Congratulations, Bookninja.
- Wordie: like Flickr, but without the photos. (via Books, Words & Writing)
William T. Vollmann the Artist
The Winter 2006 edition of Scott Esposito’s Quarterly Conversation features many fine offerings, but, for understandable reasons, I’m quite partial to Terri Saul’s fascinating interview with Vollmann. Terri stepped inside Vollmann’s studio and talks with him explicitly about his artwork. There’s also this funny conversational exchange, in which Terri willingly sets herself up for Vollmann mischief:
WTV: So, if I were going to draw you, how would you want to be drawn?
TS: I think I’d let you decide, since you’re the artist.
WTV: Oh, that sounds good.
TS: How would you want to draw me?
WTV: It depends on whether you’d want to be drawn with or without clothes.
TS: I could think about being a model. Would you pay me anything?