Ribbed for Spot’s Pleasure

In Washington, the Folger Shakespeare Library has the coffee table book prototype on display. The book, recently restored and some 400 years old, contains an illustrated history of the world and is reported to have been “flipped over by bored visitors in 16th century living rooms.”

Don Paterson walked away with the ?10,000 T.S. Eliot Prize, but he says it’s tough living being a poet. It takes Paterson a year to come up with a whole poem. While declaring poetry an “amateur pursuit,” Paterson’s still shocked that poetry is as much work as any other form of writing.

Today’s obscenity racket: Passion Panties, a Tupperware-style sex toy company, has had one of its representatives arrested in Texas. The representative had even joined the local Chambers of Commerce. But that didn’t stop authorities from citing a state law prohibiting the sale of obscene devices, which are legally defined as items “designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of human genital organs.” What’s interesting is that, like the “entertainment purposes” rap in Alabama, commerce is not addressed. So I’m sensing a common theme here. You can sell, sell, sell just about anything under the sun. But heaven forbid that you design, market, or entertain. The Texas law is so nebulous that one can make the case that maxi-pads or ribbed rubbers are “obscene items” by way of stimulating gentials. But since the law stipulates “human genital organs,” presumably a vibrator deisgned and marketed for cocker spaniels is peachy keen, right?

Quickies

Thanks to computers, professor Floyd Horowitz has uncovered 24 stories likely to have been authored by Henry James. Using common phrases, themes and pen names (the same methodology used to track down Joe Klein as the author of Primary Colors), Horowitz was able to track down tales published anonymously or under pen names during James’ lifetime.

Oprah picks One Hundred Years of Solitude for the New Year’s first book choice.

Amy’s Robot offers The History of Thomas Pynchon on TV. Personally, my favorite Pynchon reference is in the movie Miracle Mile, where Denise Crosby is reading the Cliff’s Notes for Gravity’s Rainbow. (via Chica)

And Disney has lost a goldmine. The Ninth Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals has denied Disney’s appeal to grab the rights to Winnie the Pooh, said to be worth between $3 billion and $6 billion in annual revenue.

Two additional notes: hire Jessa and tell Maud she rawks.

Did the Van Man Wear Ray Bans?

Ronald Jordan, known as the White Van Man, stole tens of thousands of Lonely Planet guides and hawked them on the street with help of a few shadowy vendors. But he’s now been caught. London police have described the case as “a flashback to Victorian London,” though when pressed on whether Jordan wore gaiters and a silk cravat, they were unable to offer clear answers. The internal affairs unit has unearthed several “large Thackeray and Dickens collections” behind police lockers. “The lads aren’t taking drugs,” said London Police spokesman Peter Thorin. “They were overworked and were getting bored with the tedious work. So they read a lot on their spare time and started seeing associations that didn’t exist.”

A Books-A-Million in Alabama has removed Playboy and Playgirl from its shelves. The decision came because Alabama has one of the toughest anti-obscenity laws on the books. Apparently, display of human genitalia, buttocks or female breasts “for entertainment purposes” is verboeten. I’m surprised that the bookstore didn’t counter this. It’s clear to me they were selling the magazines “for commercial purposes.”

If you’re wondering what happened to Freaky Friday author Mary Rodgers, she’s still around. (Yes, I read all those books when I was a lad too, including A Billion for Boris and Summer Switch.) She’s 73, and her 1959 musical Once Upon A Mattress is being staged for a comeback.

Big surprise of the day: McSweeney’s puts up something funny.

The Rise of the Creative Class author Richard Florida suggests that current economic trends may be discouraging vital creativity.

And The New York Times reports that Bonslav Pekic is staging a comeback from the grave. Purportedly one of the finest writers in the Serbian language, Northwestern University Press has announced that a translation How to Quiet a Vampire will be released in the spring.

Quick

Stephen Hawking is under round-the-clock suveillance. Apparently, his family fears that someone is planning to sabotage the stuff that keeps Hawking alive.

John Barth writes about university readings. (via Maud)

Just after Fahrenheit 451 was selected for an “Everyone Reads” library program, Ray Bradbury says that “the people have lost control” and that “bigger and stupider” entertainment has deadened intellectual curiosity.

The National Book Critics Circle Awards have been announced. The big surprises: Richard Powers’ The Time of Our Singing and William T. Vollman’s Rising Up and Rising Down. Both are very long books (and in Vollman’s case, we’re talking seven volumes). How many critics honestly read all of the nominees?

And Jack Kerouac’s On the Road manuscript, composed on an endless sheet of paper, is touring the States for the next three years. (via Moorish Girl)

Quickies

A Muslim cleric in India has offered a sizable reward to anyone who blackens the face of the exiled author Taslima Nasreen. The cleric reportedly has “seen The Jazz Singer too many times.”

Walter Mosley is interviewed about film adaptations.

Kenneth Pollack cannot deal with being wrong. So opines The Arizona Republic, of all outlets. I’d just like to say that I’m wrong on a regular basis, and that you might be too. But then you and I aren’t war hawks whose books and essays read like Rod Steiger on crystal meth.

Virgil Cross has published his first book. He’s also 97, making him the oldest literary debut in U.S. history.

The British government has abandoned its “dumbed down” Shakespeare test. The examination was criticized for being too easy. One sample question: “Who wrote Twelth Night? A. William Shakespeare. B. Zoe Trope. C. 50 Cent. D. Billy Barty.”

Bill Clinton on self-deprecating humor.