- While self-appointed pundits wax ignorantly about how they’ve finally learned to appreciate comics years after everybody else has, it is refreshing to read a piece by someone who is candid about what he does not know.
- Bob Osterhag summarizes Obama’s opportunistic bolt to the center quite well, and he echoes my own gripe about invasive wiretapping being retooled into “an important surveillance tool,” a noun phrase that is one masterful piece of bullshit. Well, I’ll vote for the smarmy fuck, even if he’s managed to fool Laura Miller. Then again, at this point, I’d vote for Mickey Mouse if he were on the Democratic ticket.
- Sarah and Orthofer report that Dutch crime writer Janwillem van de Wetering has passed away.
- David Crystal offers a defense of text messaging, pointing to its creative potential. And I’ll remember Crystal’s article the next time I drunkenly type “wr r u? out of $! pls buy me nthr pnt!” on a sad Saturday night in a pub. Apparently, there’s genius within those two sentences. Not desperation. The real question here is whether I can the transcripts of these text messages to some university library equally foolish enough to take my collection of aborted manuscripts. (via Magnificent Octopus)
- Trouble in paradise? Gawker has reduced the pay rate per page view. It’s only a matter of time before Nick Denton comes up with the bright idea of having contributors pay him to write for Gawker. (via Persona Non Data)
- Apparently, a controversy has erupted over the Colt 45 beer can.
- In Brazil, authors are treated like rock stars. In Brooklyn, authors are treated like deadbeats who should get a real job.
- CBS News has talked with Richard Ford. And there’s an accompanying photo of his marked up manuscript. It remains unknown, however, whether or not he has changed his mind about basements in Terre Haute.
- Well, Rob Peters, you may be an incurious bore and all, but I assure you this blog is still maintained for fun. Why don’t you team up with Springsteen and write a new song called “3 Million Blogs (And Nothin’ On)?” (via Mental Multivitamin)
- I’m still looking for this year’s quintessential summer album, but I have to say that The Ting Tings’s We Started Nothing is a hell of a lot of fun. And I particularly dig the closing rocker, “We Started Nothing.” And incidentally, if you’re in New York, The Ting Tings are playing a free pool party with MGMT and Black Moth Super Rainbow at McCarren on July 27th. [UPDATE: Alas, perhaps my enthusiasm was misplaced. I certainly hope that this isn't a typical live performance.] [UPDATE 2: Also worth checking out: Revolver, who I find more interesting than Fleet Foxes.]
- And a demolition worker has uncovered a Tolkien postcard behind a fireplace. Apparently, Lord of the Rings is so huge on this planet that even the termites were salivating.
- Also, this just in. McNally Robinson NYC is changing its name to McNally Jackson, a move that the store hopes will reflect its commitment to independence instead of a chain store mentality, among other reasons.
Roundup
– July 8, 2008Posted in: Roundup
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. (
Thanks for the shoutout Ed. Hope you’ll make it to our name-change party. Right now the McNally Robinson href points to that same embarrassing TingTings video, though.
Ahaha, “wr r u? out of $! pls buy me nthr pnt!” made me laugh quite a bit. Positively Homer Simpson-esque!