6.6.6: National Day of Slayer. (via Babies Are Fireproof)

Lee Goldberg’s thoughts on this fictive flummery from Steve Clackson have been commented upon by a number of bloggers. David Thayer, in particular, was puzzled by why one would go to the trouble of “attacking” unpublished fiction. I have to ask why anyone would go to the trouble of publishing a fiction-in-progress and expect nothing less than hosannas. I have to ask why the prevailing attitude here is to celebrate Clackson’s inadequate draft (“In a surprisingly strong voice he began” is the clause of an amateur) and not give him the hard and brash criticism he might need to become a better writer. Any real writer knows that there’s more to be learned from an honest response rather than some vapid confirmation of his “talents.”

One of the problems with the Web is that anyone can publish. And indeed, so many people do. But why should literary standards be surrendered in the process? Goldberg, a professional writer with several credits, had the courtesy to inform Clackson that his book needed lots of work before being sent to a publisher and advised him to take his chapters down.

I’ve had fiction I’ve written (clearly not ready for prime time) raked over the coals, but the value I have imparted from these lessons has been astronomical. One would think that with the Web’s interconnected possibilities, such hard lessons would allow the next generation of fiction writers to understand just how valuable exceptionally hard yet enthusiastic reader reactiosn are. To insist that there is a shortcut or that there is some easy path from writing to publishing to reception is the height of hubris. It is to subscribe to an abject American Idol-style mentality where “everyone’s a winner.” I suggest to Clackson and his tetchy horde of cheerleaders that a little humility goes a long way.

Maud got a chance to chat with literary hero A.L. Kennedy and finds her eminently approachable. (In fact, I will confess that even now, fiftysomething interviews into Segundo, I still get butterflies in my stomach.)

New Scientist: “Women may be able to tell whether a man is child-friendly simply by looking at his face – and this could influence how attractive they find him as a potential long-term partner. But for a spring fling or a summer love, women seek men with high levels of testosterone who don’t care much for children.”

Physorg: “U.S. psychologists say they’ve found that handling a gun creates a hormonal reaction in men that can prime them for aggression.”

Over at Mr. Wickett’s, the hardest working man in litblog business has been offering some serious coverage of Reading the World.

New York Magazine: “He’s 42 and his name has already become an adjective.”

The Choose Your Own Adventure books are being reissued.

“We need some Johnsonian or Ruskinian pundit to frighten everybody with near impossible conditions for true creativity. We have to stop thinking that what kindergarten children produce with pencil or watercolour, is anything more than charming or quaint. If you want to be considered a poet, you will have to show your mastery of the Petrachan sonnet form or the sestina. Your musical efforts must begin with well-formed fugues. There is no substitute for craft. There, I think, you may have the nub of the matter. Art begins with craft, and there is no art until craft has been mastered. You can’t create unless you’re willing to subordinate the creative impulse to the constriction of a form. But the learning of a craft takes time, and we all think we’re entitled to short cuts.”

— Anthony Burgess, “A Deadly Sin — Creativity for All,” from But Do Blondes Prefer Gentleman?

The fantastic Linda Richards, editor of January Magazine, now has a blog.

Forget that Harvard kid. This week’s plagiarist scandal involves Bret Easton Ellis. But in Bret’s case, he’s actually plagiarized himself! (via Bookninja)

The original unremastered Star Wars trilogy is being released to DVD. About goddam time.

Ron Silliman takes a recent Poetry Foundation study to task at great length: “As a one-time contributor to Poetry, I know that this doesn’t touch my world in any meaningful way. But here’s my question: does it touch the world of Christian Wiman and the current generation of old/new formalists he represents? If it does, how very sad for him. If it doesn’t, one wonders just how much money the Poetry Foundation sunk into this project. One can imagine the New York trade publishers funding this sort of research, because it really has more to do with their use of poetry as coffee table and Christmas gift-ware, what to give to that sensitive but strange niece, that sort of thing. But as a study of the sociology of poetry, what is most remarkable is just how far it misses the mark.”

New York Times: “Animal Collective played a set of well-practiced, neatly arranged freaking out, using electronic sound samples, processed guitar and lots of wild, elastic, almost ecstatic singing: working under the afternoon’s dry heat, the band seemed to be expelling demons and worked against the coziness and knowingness of the crowd, the I’ll-blog-about-you-blogging-about-me energy.”

Because, of course, when you’re in the middle of the desert dancing your ass off to groovy tunes with an unreliable cell phone, blogging is the first of your concerns.

(via Black Market Kidneys)

If such a thing is possible, I have had too much fun during the past three days and am still trying to process everything that went down. Some kind of a Coachella report will follow, once I understand how to type again. (Already, I am far too loosy-goosey and relaxed to tango with Mr. QWERTY. This entry serves as a rather rough stab with the keys.)

I would be remiss if I didn’t report that I recently took up miniature golf, my first foray after a three and a half year hiatus. To my great shock, there were a few holes in one and I scored five under par on the intermediate course. This augurs well for a rather silly (and hitherto unannounced) desire I’ve had to be good at some kind of quirky sport that really can’t be qualified as a sport. (And in golf’s case, we’re talking about a particularly silly idea that involves up far too much land and consumes far too much gasoline for ridiculous-looking vehicles traveling at bradykinetic speeds up and down grass that is more well-tended than most palatial mansions. In other words, extravagance for extravagance’s sake. Mini-golfing, by contrast, involves playing on a strip of land occupied by windmills, castles and other pleasing and colorful landmarks that only a heart of anthracite could say no gracias to. It takes up far less space than a country club and, because of its quirks, warrants the same kind of attention afforded to bowling, air hockey, frisbees and the like. And if such fixations trouble you, there is nothing here I need to apologize for. I am, after all, a Californian.)

I didn’t do quite as well on the “masters course” (a few shots over par), in large part because I still need to work on putting the ball up anthills. But I think a bit of practice should get my drive down.

On this particular course, there were even some lovely peacocks, ducks and lizards running around the green, which I suppose might have provided sufficient motivation and awe for me to concentrate.

The conclusion to be drawn: animals can be counted upon in a pinch to improve your game. Perhaps if various forms of wildlife were to be let loose into AT&T Park (ideally during a Dodgers game), the San Francisco Giants, who are currently at a 13-11 standing, might be counted upon to rush past the Colorado Rockies and secure their rightful standing on the National League West roster. Of course, it’s still early in the season. The important thing to note is that the Giants are ahead of that disreputable team based in Los Angeles, which gives me a small if shameful bit of pleasure.

In any event, there seems to be a good deal of conversation going on at the LBC, which warrants your attention. There is also a planned litblog function in the works scheduled in tandem with BookExpo America. Your faithful correspondent will be there. And, of course, the Tayari Jones drinking offer still stands. If you were photographed with Ms. Jones at Busboys and Poets during her recent stint there, produce the photograph to me and I will buy you a drink.

Much more to come. But I’m hoping you are all feeling as fantastic about May as I am. And if not, I have a maypole specialist and several florists who I can happily refer you to.

[UPDATE: Tito and I exchanged numerous voicemails and text messages and never quite met up, save through two unexpected skirmishes when we were both respectively scampering to different locales. But he has several Flickr photos up.]

I sometimes take it for granted that a writer as good as Michelle Tea is in my hometown. And I feel utterly ashamed that she hasn’t been on the Bat Segundo Show yet. But thankfully Claire Zulkey has made up for this inadequacy. Ms. Tea, on behalf of the Bat Segundo Crew, I apologize. Our team will be getting in touch with you very soon.

Variety: “Project, to be penned by [J.J.] Abrams and ‘MI3’ scribes Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci, will center on the early days of seminal ‘Trek’ characters James T. Kirk and Mr. Spock, including their first meeting at Starfleet Academy and first outer space mission.”

The Red Vic: 4/20, The Big Lebowski, a yearly tradition.

The Biderbecke Affair points to an NYT review, which resembles not so much criticism, but an epidemic of rabies:

And before we go any further, I feel a strong need to confess something: My name is Ben, and I am a Juliaholic….Like a down-home Garbo, she is an Everywoman who looks like nobody else. And while I blush to admit it, she is one of the few celebrities who occasionally show up (to my great annoyance) in cameo roles in my dreams.

Having become a Moleskine junkie last year against my better judgment, I’m a bit sad to hear that the company that makes those delicious books has put itself up for sale. Mario Beruzzi, who relaunched Moleskine in 1998, says that he’s overextended. The concern I have is whether a larger company will be able to produce the notebooks with the same quality and thoroughness that Moleskine currently puts into their product line. I certainly hope Beruzzi and company are being as meticulous with a buyer as they are with their notebooks. To get a clear-cut answer on this issue, I plan to track down the Moleskine people at BookExpo and ask them some hard questions about this. In the meantime, perhaps it’s time to load up on notebooks while they remain dependable and durable. (via Moleskinerie)

[UPDATE: Moleskinerie has received an official statement from Modo & Modo on this issue.]

Powell’s interview with Jonathan Safran Foer:

Dave: Something I want to ask: Your Wikipedia entry notes that detractors find you overly ambitious. I’m always puzzled when I hear that criticism, whether it’s aimed at a writer or a musician or whomever. I would guess you’ve drawn inspiration from others who may have faced that same complaint. Who comes to mind?

Foer: The term is so dumb that it’s hard to even think about. I guess I would hope they say that about every author I like.

BBC: “Catching sight of a pretty woman really is enough to throw a man’s decision-making skills into disarray, a study suggests.”

New York Times Corrections: “While he was hired to edit Page Six in 1985 and is its current editor, Mr. Johnson left The Post briefly in 1990 to work at The Daily News and in television; his work on Page Six has not been continuous since 1985.”

BBC: “The author behind the film The Graduate faces eviction from his home in East Sussex because of rent arrears. Novelist Charles Webb, 66, and his partner have only days to pay two months’ overdue rent, totalling nearly £1,600, on their flat in Hove….The Californian author accepted a one-off payment of £14,000 for the novel, while the film made £60m….The theatrical adaptation of the classic movie took another £10m in its recent West End stage run.”

The origin of He-Man: “[Mattel president] Ray Wagner had passed on Star Wars because the license property apparently required $750,000 upfront. At the time, for an unproven property, that was a highly exorbitant sum. So Wagner had Mattel’s Prelimary Design Department – of which I was a member – Come up with viable male action figure concepts. I had been real impressed by Frank Frazetta paintings and I [submitted an idea] that I called monster fantasy. But it was actually a barbarian fantasy.”