This above graph continues our very important series, Meaningless Infographs, in which various infographs, often of a personal nature, are presented to the public in an effort to demonstrate that blogs can present just as much meaningless data as newspapers. Now here we have an infograph with some very disturbing information. On February 16, 2009, the subject stayed inside most of the day. He had work to do. We can aver that the two boobs he noticed were likely someone close to him and permit other scientists to draw their own conclusions. However, we also know that the subject stayed inside for most of the day on February 15, 2009, save for a few errands that he had to run, which entailed leaving the house. Apparently, while the subject ran those errands, he went out of his way to deliberately espy boobs. What accounts for the discrepancy? Is the subject a sexist pig? Or is he merely a red-blooded male who likes boobs? Is it possible that the subject was somehow surrounded by too many boobs, thus causing an unexpected spike in boob sightings?
The data that most confounds our scientists is the set for February 13, 2009, in which the subject deliberately noticed one boob, but not two. Is it possible that the subject observed one pair of boobs, deliberately glimpsing one boob while accidentally or unintentionally glimpsing the other? Is this the lustful answer to continuous partial attention?
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (