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.
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. (