New York Observer: “The question is less how Mr. Lieberman lost The Times than whether he ever had the paper at all. Throughout Mr. Lieberman’s Senate career, the establishment-minded Senator and the establishment newspaper have been in sync only intermittently, at best.”
The Guardian: “Lamont, a political novice, has support from 54 percent of likely Democratic voters in the Quinnipiac University poll, while Lieberman has support from 41 percent of voters.”
I learned that a “new book” from Tony Perrottet called Pagan Holiday was out. I had enjoyed Perrottet’s previous “book” Route 66, an attempt by Perrottet to retrace the routes of the Romans in contemporary times with a pregnant girlfriend in tow.
But in turns out that Pagan Holiday is, in fact, the same book as Route 66. Same contents, different title. If this is an effort by Perrottet to pull a fast one, he won’t get my dollars. I still have the hardback of Route 66 in the Reluctant Library, thank you very much. And I know a good con when I see one.
But for those who missed out, here’s an interview with Perrottet where he discusses the trip.
New York Times: “A federal prosecutor may inspect the telephone records of two New York Times reporters in an effort to identify their confidential sources, a federal appeals court in New York ruled yesterday. The 2-to-1 decision, from a court historically sympathetic to claims that journalists should be entitled to protect their sources, reversed a lower court and dealt a further setback to news organizations, which have lately been on a losing streak in the federal courts.”
From Kate’s Book Blog:
One book that changed your life: Lexus, Sexus and Nexus by Henry Miller. I read The Rosy Crucifixion when I was 23 and this trilogy, perused in one mad gulp, gave me invaluable lessons about clinging obstinately to my dreams, remaining true to myself, and being unapologetically honest and passionate. Sure, there was a lot of sex in the three books and that didn’t hurt either. But before Henry Miller, I was a nervous and bumbling kid. I emerged on the other side with the beginnings of an unstoppable impetus. (Other authors I read during this time committed to these self-same truths: James Baldwin, James M. Cain, Jim Thompson — a lot of Jims for some strange reason. But, his narcissism aside, it was good ol’ Henry Miller who I am most indebted to.)
One book that you’ve read more than once: Many, but Richard Powers’ The Gold Bug Variations and William Gaddis’s The Recognitions come immediately to mind.
One book you’d want on a desert island: I hate to pilfer from Jenny D, but The Riverside Shakespeare is truly the only option.
One book that made you laugh: John Barth’s The Sot-Weed Factor
One book that made you cry: William T. Vollmann’s The Rainbow Stories, in large part because Bootwoman Marisa reminded me of someone I once knew who had gone down a horrible path because she was misunderstood.
One book that you wish had been written: A three-way tie between Dickens’ unfinished The Mystery of Edwin Drood and the fourth and fifth books that Mervyn Peake had hoped to write in his Gormenghst trilogy with an elderly Titus Groan.
One book that you wish had never been written: Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. While this novel contains undeniable (and certainly unintentional) comic value, perhaps the Rand disciples, who cling foolishly to Rand’s tenets the way flies flock to feces, might have put their energies towards something more humanist. This book, in addition to being a plodding mess I read through to the very edge, is pretty much my ideological opposite.
One book you’re currently reading: Scott Smith’s The Ruins, a good romp after a lot of high-octane literary fiction.
One book you’ve been meaning to read: Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook, which has been sitting around unread for years.
I, Asshole: “I heard innumerable women redub this stuff ‘Ass Water.’ I didn’t try it, and was pretty irritated that in eighty-five degree weather my choice was to go into the hotel and drop a dolla sixty-five for a bottle of filtered water, have iced tap water from a pitcher at the back of the panel sessions, or I could have as much Ass Water as I could hold. That’s kind of backhanded for the men who were there, too. ‘Here, Man, have some Lady Water. Fatty.'”