- Book critic Merle Rubin has died. She was 57.
- Another unsung talent who recently passed away: film composer Shirley Walker. (I picked up this sad tidbit while listening to Your Mother Hates This Show, a promising cartoon-based podcast that really should be using a higher bitrate for their shows. Presently, these two enthusiastic gentlemen sound like discomobulated souls stuck in a ratty AM radio loosely mounted in a Studebaker one month away from a scrapyard. Gentlemen, you can do better!)
- Yo, George. Optioning John Grisham? Not sexy. Not sexy at all.
- Times mastheads from 1785. (via Books, Words & Writing)
- Jean-Paul Sartre’s The Flies is set to be staged with 30,000 live fruit flies. I’m surprised that local farmers aren’t raising their pitchforks in protest over this really bad idea. (via The Literary Saloon)
- Radiohead uses Moleskines. Time to find the next hip notebook.
- Norman Mailer vs. Rip Torn. (via the Rake)
- Largehearted Boy has an extremely impressive collection of year-end music lists.
- Diplo’s a busy man.
- 90210 revolutionary? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
- More fodder for the Slate Audio Book Club naysayers. Katie Roiphe on The Emperor’s Chldren: “My favorite novel this year was Claire Messud’s smart and entertaining The Emperor’s Children, for reasons I have already given in Slate. I’ve noticed it’s become fashionable to deflate it at parties, but it really is as good as everyone said before deflating it came into fashion.” Huh? I’d like to know what parties Katie the Airhead’s attending these days. And what the hell does any of this have to do with Messud’s literary worth?
- Andrew O’Hehir meets David Lynch. There’s also a podcast.
- Also at Salon: “I love journalism but I hate asking uncomfortable questions.” My two-sentence alternative answer: Thank you for playing. Step aside so that the real journalists can do their work.
© 2006, Edward Champion. All rights reserved.
Let me assure you that I also attend parties where Claire Messud’s work is deflated on a semi-regular basis. These functions are often quite entertaining. In addition to playing croquet, we throw darts at paper targets with Mr. Champion’s face printed on them.
Fantastic! No wonder I’m not on the invite list. While I’m bummed out about not being able to play croquet, I would be honored to throw darts at my own face!