I am in Madison, Wisconsin. I will have more to say later, which will likely ruffle a few feathers. Nevertheless, the truth must be reported.
It is safe to say that there is more here than cheese. Madison is a pleasant place.
The people, however, tend to drive within the speed limit rather than with the flow of traffic. Or, rather, they are more committed to being good citizens instead of being good drivers. This is problematic if you happen to be a California driver and you are used to the Andretti-like manuevering of Angelenos.
Madison’s downtown makeup, a thin rectangular isthumus nestled between two pleasant lakes, reminds me very much of Berkeley’s, except that there is a giant capitol in the middle, it’s 40 degrees out, and, in certain areas, there is a greater whiff of provincial self-absorption in the air than Cole Valley or Union Street. But, for the most part, it’s a pleasant town gleefully at odds with the state of Wisconsin. If one can judge a city by its park benches, as I often do, there are quite a number of them here, often perpendicular to gushing white bus stops and other monuments suggesting an unwavering commitment to environmentalism. This suggests a city of little crime, as benches are often the first thing to go when fighting riff-raff.
I listened to an interesting conversation among two desk clerks mystified by the concept of the beef shawarama. And I have done my best to corrupt some of the Madison locals with recherche banter.
Concering BoucherCon, as a literary outsider looking in, I will have quite a few things to say about it. But the below photo communicates the general atmosphere:
More to come.
Magic Hours by Tom Bissell: This marvelous collection of essays chronicles everything from film shoots to novelists rescued from oblivion. (The essay on the Underground Literary Alliance, with its portrait of raucous factions, unexpectedly reveals how soft today's literary world has become.) But if you peer between the cracks of these smart pieces, you may very well see how cultural lives are formed from the most unexpected life choices. And as we follow Bissell's development as a writer over the years, that goes for Bissell as well. (
Angelmaker by Nick Harkaway: Harkaway's latest novel greatly improves on his previous book, The Gone-Away World, which I'm already on record as praising. Angelmaker adopts genre elements without ever feeling like a genre book, and it leads me to believe that Harkaway is well on his way to a narrative grace close to China Miéville's. Yet inexplicably this very fun book, which includes an eightysomething badass named Edie Banister, a mysterious mechanical object that may destroy the world, farcical scenarios involving lawyers and the police, and some unexpectedly moving moments about fatherhood, doesn't appear to be getting much attention in American newspapers. Nothing from the snobs at The New York Times Book Review, nothing from The Washington Post. And since I can't get Harkaway on Bat Segundo, I hope this Jump Up and Down mention gets you hopping as well.
The Age of Insight by Eric Kandel: Unless you're really pressed for time, forget Jonah Lehrer. If you want to understand creativity and its relationship to neuroscience, then the bowtie-wearing Nobel laureate is your man. In addition to being a physically beautiful book (you will drool over many of the paintings), there are helpful overviews on optical illusions, science, biographical backgrounds, and many vital figures from the Vienna Secession. Kandel's enthusiasm (and his call for greater unity between the humanities and science) is contagious.