by Edward Champion

Roundup

  • One week, she’s giving marital advice to the Beckhams; the next week, she’s polluting the television medium with her drivel. I remain convinced that there is no way to get the media to stop paying attention to Jackie Collins (including me, apparently).
  • Someone must also ask this: when was the last time David Denby was enthusiastic about film? Presumably, “the spectacle of dying” also explains Denby’s recumbent work of late. Denby has offered very thoughtful reviews in the past, but someone needs to whip the man into shape. David Remnick, it is your duty to unleash a horde of ball-busting editors on Denby before March!
  • Don’t entirely discount hasty reading. I can agree with Ms. Waters that some books, such as David Markson’s Going Down (which I am now reading), simply cannot be read fast. But if Ms. Waters honestly believes that the average reader should diagram every single sentence and deconstruct the fuck out of every volume, then I have to wonder just how she has fun on a Saturday night. Is not the joy of reading predicated upon leaving some spontaneity or ambiguity to the reader? I’m not suggesting that books should be construed as mere entertainments, but if the process of understanding literature is not engaging on some level (hopefully with a modicum of fun), then what hope for tomorrow’s grad students? Besides, who is Ms. Waters to dictate just how any individual reader reads? One of the joys of reading is returning to a book a second or third time, realizing that a particular passage from a book you haven’t touched in six years is calling you in the dead of night, lending some aid or reference to another unsolved and entirely unrelated mystery.
  • I don’t know if I mentioned this already, but Scott McLemee is now blogging, although I must reprimand him for using “thorough” and “Wikipedia” in the same sentence.
  • Oh, grow some balls, Gerry Adams. (via Elegant Variation)
  • Dan Wickett’s Dzanc Books is starting to pump out a few titles. Set for 2008: a Yannick Murphy short story collection and a volume from Peter Markus.
  • Matthew Tiffany has scored a future interview with Dave Eggers and Valentino Deng. Failure to engage Mr. Eggers on his inexplicable flip-flopping will be duly observed, Mr. Tiffany. Go get ’em, tiger. Nobody else has the balls. (Well, I would, but Eggers has refused multiple interview requests.)
  • I’d like to agree with Levi (somewhat) concerning bloggers “loathing” the NYTBR. I don’t “loathe” Sam Tanenhaus (just as I don’t “loathe” Dave Eggers, much as he and his minions seem to think I do). “Loathing” implies that I feel complete disgust for the NYTBR. But if I “loathe” this weekly broadsheet, why then have I praised David Orr, Liesel Schillinger and Dwight Garner on these pages? This “with us or against us” mentality might sit well with paranoids and conspiracy freaks, but it doesn’t sit with me. I apply a great degree of scrutiny to anyone, including authors I admire (see my recent Miéville review). It’s the only way I can stay honest. Perhaps the issue here is one of assumed respect, a collective state where one assumes that because something is printed in a prominent newspaper, it must therefore be “beyond criticism” (like Saul Bellow, apparently*). But how can any solid thinker maintain such an attitude? Why is vehement disagreement confused with a jihad? That my clear skepticism and playfulness is confused with “loathing” reveals quite a lot about the disingenuous nature of today’s book review climate. (And, no, I don’t “loathe” Mark either for quibbling over his verb choice here; far from it.)

* — See also this post from Dan Green.

by Edward Champion

Don’t Discount the Discount Store

I’m a native Californian. So this makes me something of a clueless wuss when it comes to East Coast winter. You see, here in California, unless we head up to the Sierra Nevada mountains, we rarely experience any weather below 45 degrees Fahrenheit. In fact, we Californians shiver and complain when the temperature hits tepid winter levels, and this makes us something of an understandable laughing stock. (This does not, however, explain California’s rampant libertarianism, nor its wacko New Age movements.)

There’s a corollary to this Left Coast predicament. California’s relative warmth also means that many of us (or at least me) are utterly clueless about winter wear. Hats? Scarves? Gloves? You don’t say! What the hell are those? I have a trusty full-length wool coat that gets me through the cold winter nights, thank you very much. And if you push me against the wall, I’ll drag out my thermal underwear under duress, which I honestly can’t remember where I put. But I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere in my apartment!

I hit New York this weekend, where the weather ranged from 15-30 degrees. With my Californian idiot thinking in play, I likewise figured that the wool coat would serve me well in these comparatively freezing conditions. This worked out okay for me, except when I ventured beyond three Manhattan blocks in the cold. After three blocks, I began to experience an astonishing freezing sensation in my cheeks! This was something new and strange (and, dare I say it, exotic) to me, and I did my best to hide my panic. When my silly masculinity dissipated and I began to realize that this was not a good winter wear situation, it was suggested by certain folks kind enough to comprehend my cluelessness that covering my ears and hands would probably be a good thing.

So I sallied forth to do this. But I could not find a trusty cap or gloves for sale in a ten block area. This was New York! Why was it possible to order smoked Cuban fish at 2:30 AM, and yet not find winter gear? I was prepared to abandon my quest altogether, silently shivering and risking possible frostbite, until I stumbled upon one of those 99 cent stores. I walked into this dubious outlet with some trepidation.

I was stunned to discover a hat and gloves, which I obtained for the amazing price of $2.58. The freezing feeling in my cheeks disappeared! There was better body heat distribution! I began to walk proudly in the cold, thinking that (at least for this weekend) I could probably pull a Travolta strut and ask for two, two slices of pizza somewhere.

There is a moral to this story: a discount store will save you from the cold more effectively than one of those silly Duane Reade outlets that purport to serve the general public.

by Edward Champion

AMS Update While On the Road

I had planned to report on today’s bankruptcy hearing, even though I am now writing this post from an airport. But it appears that the fates (or, rather, the Judge) have decided to continue the hearing until later this week, making my job a little easier. Judge Christopher Santochi has informed publishers that they may sign with both NBN and Perseus, if they so desire. This puts NBN in the spot of getting the appropriate paperwork together before Wednesday afternoon. (And if NBN does not, then Perseus’s offer will be approved on Thursday morning.)

This puts the ball squarely in the courts of NBN and the respective publishers to do the mad scrambling. We shall find out soon enough whether PGW will operate the aegis of NBN or Perseus soon enough. Tomorrow, I will attempt to determine if there are any hesitations some publishers may have in going through NBN. And while NBN’s offer is certainly a sweeter pot than Perseus’s, I will attempt to determine any possible disadvantages.

Meanwhile, Publishers Lunch reports that AMS plans to sell “the majority of its assets, excluding PGW” to Baker & Taylor. The release can be found here.