It was a preternaturally sunny afternoon in the City. But that didn’t stop Scott and me from checking out Tayari Jones at A Clean, Well-Lighted Place for Books. Jones, who initially attracted my attention when I learned that her next-door neighbor was Richard Powers, was there for the final stop on her book tour to support her second novel, The Untelling. Told from the perspective of a young girl who copes with the effects of a car accident on a broken family in Atlanta, Jones started the novel almost immediately after her first novel, Leaving Atlanta.

Jones, who is 34, read two passages from the book: the first segment setting up the family in question and the second involving a revelation on Halloween night. She read in a warm and mellifluous voice that evoked the purity of childhood and young adulthood covered within the novel (and wasn’t bad at all for a first book tour out). JOnes had recently rebounded from a two-week bout with laryngitis. Apparently, she had been conducting her readings without drinking any water. When she was kind enough to sign my book to “Ed the Champion,” I urged Jones to drink more water while on the road.

Jones started writing The Untelling in 2000. It took three and a half years to finish, with the last fifty pages coming out of her during the last year. The novel emerged when she started thinking about home ownership, specifically with the often unspoken issue of single women assuming “house power.” Jones was curious about how families assume multiple debts to take on a house. Since she had turned thirty near the beginning of writing The Untelling, these thoughts, along with the marital ambition that often plagues people around twenty-nine, had her focusing her instincts into her novel. She pointed out that marriage often prevents people from asking about parents, because a married person, when asked about her life, can simply point to her spouse and avoid the question of parents and siblings altogether.

Jones said that she is working on a third novel “about bigamy” and didn’t reveal much. But she did point out that in order for bigamy to work, one family would have to be complicit.

Lauren Cerand has informed me that Jones has an opinion piece in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution about writing her first novel.

WEEKLY QUESTION: Will this week’s NYTBR reflect today’s literary and publishing climate? Or will editor Sam Tanenhaus demonstrate yet again that the NYTBR is irrelevant to today’s needs? If the former, a tasty brownie will be sent to Mr. Tanenhaus’ office. If the latter, the brownie will be denied.

When I saw this week’s cover with the NASCAR photo, I felt a sharp pain in my solar plexus. And it wasn’t just because Tanenhaus failed to capitalize all of the letters in NASCAR. (Yo, Sam, I’m about as uninterested in the Daytona 500 as the next guy, but even I know that NASCAR is an acronym for the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing. This is about as absurd as referring to the Super Bowl as “the final Nfl matchup.”) The NASCAR book comparison, written by Jonathan Miles, isn’t a bad idea. But does it merit a cover review? Judging by the snide tone of Jonathan Miles’ review, the review favors snotty defensiveness rather than a genuinely interesting (and, dare I say it, inviting) exploration of the subject. Rather than indoctrinating a reader unfamiliar with NASCAR about the appeal, Miles opts instead for a red state/blue state divisiveness that is becoming as deeply cloying in today’s journalism as any reference to post-9/11 guilt, as if he genuinely believed that all blue staters equate watching the Daytona 500 with voting for Bush.

More egregiously, the “review,” if it can be called that, spends half of its length bogged down in tired rhetroric and unfounded generalizations (the only literary detractor Miles can dig up is Tom Wolfe and the essay cited is from 1965) before finally getting to the two books in question. There are laughable comparisons to commuter traffic and not a single reference to the pit area (where people perform incredible overhauls and refueling on a car between laps; when have you seen that during rush hour?).

Eventually, things get a little interesting (if not book-specific) with a cursory overview of Curtis Turner’s life. But not before Miles voices further contempt about NASCAR’s potential future, equating it to Elvis dying on the toilet. If Miles had even bothered to do any research, a quick look at NASCAR demographics would have turne up the following for him:

• More than half of all NASCAR watchers earn between $30-75,000, a far cry from the NASCAR fans who “drive to the 7-Eleven to pick up a pack of smokes.”
• 40.1% of all NASCAR fans have attended college.
• In fact, there isn’t all that much in a disparity by region as the Southern picture painted by Miles. 38% of NASCAR fans are based in the South, but 35% of America lives into the house. 3% is hardly a figure substantial enough to invite stereotypes.
• Between 1999 and 2002, Hispanic and African-American audiences for NASCAR have notably increased. Hispanics went from 3.6% to 8.6% of the fan base while African-Americans went from 4.9% to 9.1% of the fan base.

For wasting his space on such stereotypical assaults, encouraging such lazy generalizations, and blowing an opportunity to represent an area of publishing that might be of interest to the NYTBR‘s readers, there can be no other recourse than the Brownie Bitchslap Factor.

BROWNIE BITCHSLAP FACTOR: Two and a half pages devoted to this nonsense? What were you thinking, Sam? SLAP! (Minus 1.2 points)

THE COLUMN-INCH TEST:

Fiction Reviews: Six half-page reviews, two one-page reviews, a one-page Crime roundup, a one-page Fiction Chronicle. (Total books: 16. Total pages: 7.)

Non-Fiction Reviews: One 2.5 page review, one two-page review (Hitch, go figure), seven one-page reviews, four half-page reviews. (Total books: 14. Total page: 13.5 pages.)

No surprise. This is Tanenhaus on autopilot. With nonfiction coverage dwarfing fiction at an almost 2:1 ratio, this is disgraceful. Half-page reviews of today’s fiction, with the only one-page reviews going to Chuck P (who, with all his press, may as well be relegated to a half-page review) and Ann Beattie. 34% doesn’t cut it, Sam.

Brownie Point: DENIED!

THE HARD-ON TEST:

This test concerns the ratio of male to female writers writing for the NYTBR.

Thirteen male reviewers (with two of them getting at least two pages), with a mere ten female reviewers, most of them kept cooking and cleaning with thankless fiction blurbs.

This is a remarkable slip from last week and one that deserves zero tolerance.

Brownie Point: DENIED!

THE QUIRKY PAIR-UP TEST:

Now this, I must say is a nice move: Francine Prose weighs in on the overhyped Oh the Glory Of It All. Even if there is a typo on the web version’s headline, Prose is relatively fair on the book’s merits while getting in a playfully sarcastic opening paragaph.

Christopher Hitchens takes The John Hopkins Guide to Liteary Theory and Criticism to task for its obfuscatory stance on the language to be found in literary criticism.

Unfortunately, all this is thrown to the well when one considers the Walter Kirn’s review of Everything Bad is Good for You, or rather the way that Kirn has, in his work for the NYTBR continually stopped short of making a compelling and thoughtful point. Instead of explaining why Steven Johnson’s argument is persuasive to him (despite being empirical), Kirn makes the mistake of making Johnson’s claims more dubious and throwing in two references to Kojak to boot.

But the quirky mix is remotely interesting to get by.

Brownie Point: EARNED!

CONTENT CONCERNS:

[The NYT site is down this afternoon. I’ll weigh in on this later.]

CONCLUSIONS:

Brownie Points Denied: 2
Brownie Points Earned: 1
Brownie Bitchslap Factor: -1.2 points
TOTAL BROWNIE POINTS REQUIRED FOR BROWNIE DELIVERY: 2
TOTAL BROWNIE POINTS EARNED: -.2 points

WEEKLY QUESTION: Will this week’s NYTBR reflect today’s literary and publishing climate? Or will editor Sam Tanenhaus demonstrate yet again that the NYTBR is irrelevant to today’s needs? If the former, a tasty brownie will be sent to Mr. Tanenhaus’ office. If the latter, the brownie will be denied.

Unfortunately, certain events prevented me from offering an encompassing pronouncement last weekend. To pursue the Brownie Watch with a completist’s gusto, I’m reviewing last week’s NYTBR on tests alone. The results from last week are remarkably surprising. The Content Considerations section will have to be overlooked, but I will pursue this week’s NYTBR with greater depth. For those who require further commentary, I direct Brownie Watch readers to this Observer editorial, which criticizes Robert Leiter’s review of Buried by the Times and puts the question into an influential context.

THE COLUMN-INCH TEST:

Fiction Reviews: 1 – 1 1/2 page review, 1 two-page Louisa May Alcott retrospective, 5 half-page reviews, 1 one-page Shel Silverstein review, 1 – 1 1/2 page children’s book roundup, 2 one-page children’s book roundups, 1 1-page Hans Christian Anderson overview, 1 one-page “Fiction Chronicle” roundup. (Total books: 23. Total pages: 12.5.)

Non-Fiction Reviews: 1 two-page roundup of atomic bomb books by Richard Rhodes, 2 one-page reviews, 2 half-page review, 1 one-page jazz book comparison, 3 – .75 page reviews, 1- 1.25 page reviews
(Total books: 13. Total pages. 9.5.)

Buoyed in large part by the Chldren’s Book Section, Sam Tanenhaus has done the unthinkable. He’s offered most of the NYTBR‘s pages to fiction. And not just any old fiction: he’s included a Louisa May Alcott Libary of America volume, a translated novel and a modest return to the Chip McGrath days of championing midlisters like Jane Alison (whom Max Millions is crazy about). Or to look at this in hard numbers, a good 57% of the May 15, 2005 issue is devoted to fiction, well above the 48% minimum threshold requried.

I sincerely doubt we’ll see numbers like this again. But because some unexpected force has allowed Mr. Tanenhaus to come to his senses, all brownie bitchslap factors for this week will be withheld.

Brownie Point: EARNED!

THE HARD-ON TEST:

This test concerns the ratio of male to female writers writing for the NYTBR.

Here again, Tanenhaus has somehow balanced things out. This week, there are eleven male reviewers and twelve female reviewers. While most of the ladies have been relegated to the Children’s Book section, I’m still pleased to see that some smart ladies have been granted the pen (and hopefully the keys to Joe Queenan’s car, so that Queenan will be too busy to contribute more of his tired bluster for the NYTBR).

Brownie Point: EARNED!

THE QUIRKY PAIR-UP TEST:

Could it be possible that Tanenhaus will, for the first time in Brownie Watch history, earn three out of three brownie points? Indeed, it is.

First off, Richard Rhodes is the kind of guy we like to see offering thorough roundups about history in the NYTBR‘s pages. It’s more of a history than a review proper, but if this is the way that Tanenhaus must squeeze in his political obsessions, that’s okay by us.

Meg Wolitzer is an interesting choice to write a children’s book roundup. However, I’m not sure if Ms. Wolitzer knows what audience she’s writing for. At one point, she addresses “you obsessive, Egypt-factoid-gathering kids,” which, personally speaking, may have been a valid address to me twenty-five years ago, but now it has me wondering why I’m dunking a graham cracker in milk as a Sunday morning hangover cure. And I’m not certain if complaining about the registered circle is worth a paragraph.

But an even stranger choice than Wolitzer is M.P. Dunleavey. This might be an instinctive reaction, but I don’t entirely trust a personal finance consultant to dispense advice on children’s books. Particularly when she sees a children’s book as something to “lull a the little ones to sleep.” Part of the point of reading a bedtime story is to get as caught up in the narrative as the kid is. In fact, I’d venture to say that had not my father read me the Lord of the Rings and Oz books when I was a wee tyke, my appetite for epic tales (albeit, better ones than Tolkein) wouldn’t be nearly as great as it is today. Dunleavey’s slightly bitter take on children’s books belongs in Good Housekeeping, not the NYTBR.

Then there’s Steve Erickson’s welcome presence. Erickson’s review is by-the-numbers, perhaps because of the reduced space granted to him. But it’s still good to see Tanenhaus throwing in a trusted experimental fiction writer to weigh in on the books of our time.

I’m tempted to bitchslap Tanenhaus for the Dunleavey review, but since all brownie bitchslaps are verboeten, I’ll instead commend him for the steady crop of matchups.

Brownie Point: EARNED!

CONCLUSIONS:

I’m as shocked as anyone else, but Tanenhaus met the burden (and then some) for his work on the May 15, 2005 issue. Brownies will be sent to him this week.

Brownie Points Denied: 0
Brownie Points Earned: 3
TOTAL BROWNIE POINTS REQUIRED FOR BROWNIE DELIVERY: 2
TOTAL BROWNIE POINTS EARNED: 3 points

I’ve started reading The Rainbow Stories as part of The Vollmann Club. The last book of Vollmann’s I read was The Royal Family, which was about four years ago. Scott has remarked on Vollmann’s tendency to repeat himself in that book, suggesting that Vollmann wants the reader to become as bored with this world as the whores are. The idea here being that Vollmann considers it a duty to indoctrinate his audience into the daily grind, something they (certainly not a suburbanite reclining on a chaise longue with a tumbler of bourbon and a book) may not be wholly familiar with and that indeed might make most readers shy away.

But I think Vollmann is doing something more audacious. He’s unafraid to comment directly to the reader about the character traits he finds important, or the very human observations of supremely troubled people, moments as valid as the hard details that Balzac remains celebrated for, but that contemporary literature often turns its back on. The interesting thing is that this results in his books resembling some confluence of hard reportage and Vollmann’s fervent imagination.

Consider this passage which describes Sapphire in Section 378 of The Royal Family:

I do not propose to ‘explain’ her, because I do not understand her. But I love her more than any of the other characters in the book, except perhaps for Domino, and I refuse to refrain from praising her. Should astronomers and ethicists ever succeed in proving that God resembles her, then lost and weary Cain won’t need to flee anymore.

And there is this similar address in an early moment in a radiology clinic in The Rainbow Stories:

The man after him was very calm, and did not wince when the needle went in. But he looked away. I think it is very funny that if you shoot yourself up four or five times a day you do not mind the needle going in, but you cannot bear to watch someone else do it.

Vollmann then remains a curious narrator, one willing to reveal his own limitations while simultaneously looking hard into the face of the truth (whether metaphorical or strictly observational) he sees and the truth that is often ignored on a daily basis right in front of us.

This is not exactly postmodernism and is it not quite journalism. It certainly offers us an important glimpse inside Vollmann’s consciousness. But I would suggest that, in openly confessing his amusement by something as horrifying as a junkie finding fear in a needle (away from his alley, away from a rotting apartment), or in pointing out that not even he (a no-holds-barred observer) can fully understand his subjects, Vollmann is more of a reassuring narrator than an opportunist or an outright mocker. His goal here is to humanize, but in selecting a tableau of lowlifes, he’s daring us to look beyond the easy labels of good and evil that antidrug campaigns, do-gooder reformers, and hazy two-hour sashays by self-proclaimed pundits often mistaken for qualified expertise.

It’s worth observing that The Rainbow Stories includes a revised color spectrum near its beginnings. And while colors themselves are used as starting points for this collection of sordid tales, the salient point here is that, if there is an idealistic goal somewhere over the rainbow, the human spectrum needs to be broadened beyond an easily recognizable selection of hues.