It looks like the levels of post-terrorist incident guilt that we’ve had here in the States are being reproduced in London and affecting the literary world. Chris Cleave is asking whether or not it’s appropriate for him to promote a novel that includes a fictional terrorist attack at a soccer game.

As someone who forced himself to continue writing a screenplay involving terrorism the very week after 9/11 while in another country, I’d say that the answer for Cleave is very simple: grow some balls and don’t let the bastards get you down. These folks aren’t afraid. Why should writers be? To remain in a suspended state about whether art is appropriate or not is to let the terrorists win (or some similar crazed sentiment that isn’t so half-baked and hackneyed). It’s also damn spineless to boot.

God damn you all to hell, Dalkey! Quit this whole 100 books for $500 bidness! Why, for that price I could probably summon an outcall and maybe get the escort to read me some Flann O’Brien just before performing fellatio on me! Hell, maybe she could do both! (Yesterday, I felt my futon showing signs of collapse after two years of solid sleep and other activities. I turned on my side and, when I felt that nobody was there beside me, I weeped into a pile of hardcovers and rearranged these sturdy squares into the form of a woman under the blanket. Sadly, my penis collided into one of the spines, causing a large and painful bruise, and I have been applying ice to my crotch ever since. I understand if other people choose to stave off loneliness in other ways.) All this is a roundabout way of saying that you should give your money to Dalkey because what they do is fantastic and that nachos are nothing to be ashamed of.

With all the recent talk about movie box office slumps, could it be that the declining grosses have something to do with the rising ticket price? In the past year, we’ve seen movie ticket prices rise from $8 to $10. Those two dollars may be small potatoes for most of us, but let’s say that you’re a family of four operating on an extremely tight budget. Suddenly, you’re now paying eight extra dollars per week (or what was once the price of one movie ticket).

Factor in the loud movie ads that thunder during those hideous “20 Minute Countdown” presentations before the movie, working against parents who are trying to get the kids settled down, and the fact that movies have seriously declined in quality, and the problem from a family perspective becomes apparent. Moreover, considering the rise in talkers, I wonder if this has less to do with home theatre environments and more to do with walking into a theatre and hearing not some soft music playing over the speakers so that people can settle down, but getting a projected movie with advertisements and hollow trivia.

And lest any sleazy Michael Medved types come around here preaching about “indecent” films that families don’t really want to see, I don’t think it’s the content or type of movie that matters. But families do go to movies. All types of movies. Everything from the latest Dreamworks animated epic to a serious drama.

If the movie business truly wanted to halt the gradual taper, then they might consider (1) reducing the ticket price from $10 to $8 by promising movie theatres a greater percentage of the gross, (2) reduce second-week dropoff by reducing supply (i.e., number of screens) and increasing deamnd, (3) demand a theatrical environment that is less intrusive and ad-centric and that actually relaxes people as they sit down, and (4) stop treating audiences as morons and make smart, entertaining, and story-centric movies.

Gawker has been mining this MySpace blog about a 26 year old working in the publishing industry who was fired for blogging. The only thing we have to say is that we’re extremely distrubed that anyone in their mid-twenties would use “totally” on a regular basis in their writing (and to be clear on this, using this modifier before the verb rather than after), let alone hired in the publishing industry or (since things have LIKE TOTALLY turned up for bluegirl24ny), a copy editor.

We wouldn’t mind being copy editors ourselves, but we haven’t been hired because we TOTALLY read the Chicago Manual of Style for pleasure (preferring to revere language instead of butchering it), we live in San Francisco (about as far removed from the center of publishing as one could get), and we don’t really have the sexy curves of a nubile twentysomething young lady who plops nothing but Nutrabars on a supermarket checkout scanner. So we’re SOL. TOTALLY!

Michiko Kakutani: “Jack’s ‘melancholic logorrhea’ might yield some useful therapeutic results, but in terms of storytelling, it makes for a tedious, self-indulgent and cruelly eye-glazing read.”

The Cleveland Plain Dealer: “Perhaps in an attempt to depict that innocence, Irving has created a personality-free main character who spends much of the story in a curiously passive state. Do such people exist? Everywhere. They are as frustrating in real life as they are in books.”

Boston Globe: “Irving takes no more notice of an amputated limb than a stray pimple. A shattered life impels no more wobble in his plot’s dense tread than a crumbled cookie strewn across a graying plate, so the reader is deprived of a useful collision with a sensibility truly at odds with one’s own.”

New York Daily News: “[T]he book is emotionally barren, antsy in its execution, and too precious by half.”

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