Yann Martel is starting a book club, hoping that the Prime Minister will bite. Martel received a “mostly indifferent” reception from the House of Commons when he appeared to champion funding for the Canada Council of Arts. Then again, perhaps the suits were grumbling about extending $170 million in funding for those damn Bohemians who dared to sully the halls of Ottawa. (And compare this with the NEA’s $139.4 million, a budgetary boost that is one good thing you can apply to the Bush administration, although it’s not nearly enough.)
AM New York: “The critical savagery could be written off as a prudish reaction to a book that is more than a tad pornographic. Or it could be the result of Mosley’s own missteps — a dirty book, after all, is a very delicate proposition, and not always easy to take seriously.” Or it could be that the United States needs a Bad Sex Award and this is the only way the literary community can take badly written sex scenes to task.
Joyce Carol Oates on one of my favorite childhood authors, Roald Dahl.
There’s now a Dickens theme park about to open up in Kent. What I like best about this park is the unique day care facility. You can drop your kids off for the day, where numerous “Fagins” will ensure that your kid is locked in a room and fed nothing but gruel. There, your child will learn the ways of the streets, sneaking out to pick the pockets of unsuspecting tourists and engaging in a progressive education with a teenage instructor named Nancy. This is the kind of approach that instills character in today’s youth. And I must salute these developers for not stooping to cheap Disney-style theatrics, recreating every facet of Dickens without fear of public rebuke. (via Jenny D)
Here in San Francisco, MUNI has certainly been sucking. Last night, I waited forty-five minutes for my bus and then gave up and took the N Judah home. The mornings have been almost as bad. Charlie Anders outlines some probable causes. But this is inexcusable.