- Columnist Art Buchwald is dead at 81.
- In Jules Verne’s 1882 novel Le Rayon Vert, Verne described the green flash of sunset as “a green which no artist could ever obtain on his palette, a green of which neither the varied tints of vegetation nor the shades of the most limpid sea could ever produce the like! If there is a green in Paradise, it cannot be but of this shade, which most surely is the true green of Hope.” Well, it appears that a photographer has captured the green flash on camera. It remains something of a mystery as to how Verne initially detected the flash, but some Verne scholars suspect that Verne began to see it during his famous (and often underreported) encounter with a gangrenous streaker.
- Radio Free PGW posts this message from the PGW ad hoc committee.
- An interesting interview with Joanna Newsom. (via This Space)
- Preposterous swag received by The Onion. My favorite: the “Just Do Me” breath mint.
- James Reasoner has authored 200 books. (via Lee Goldberg)
- Why did Neal Pollack write Alternadad? “I needed a new book contract in order to feed my family.” If only more writers could be this honest.
- Redheads won’t be having all the fun in a hundred years. In fact, there won’t be any left on this planet by 2100. I’m troubled by this. I had thought that, as a redhead (or perhaps “reddish” head, given that what remains of my hair is now more of an auburn timbre; when I was a lad, I sailed the berm with a red moptop and some unleashed sperm), I would one day produce legions of redheaded children who would then, in turn, spread their seed across the earth. I had counted upon my recessive genes to be resilient, working against insurmountable odds. But this won’t be the case at all. So have at it, lovers and casual fornicators! Get those redheads in the sack before they’re gone! (via Bookninja)
- Mr. Esposito observes that Vollmann is in the March Harper’s.
- Leah Adezio has passed on and Heidi MacDonald has links.
- Something to look for on YouTube.
- Bill Peschel revisits the Martin Amis teeth debacle.
- John Fox believes that Vollmann’s Swofford review was excessively harsh for a first novel.
- Tad Williams and Aquaman!
- Apparently, Silverblatt’s people can’t spell Bascombe.
- The American bathroom as status symbol. (via Magnificent “Ambersons” Octopus)
Roundup
– January 18, 2007Posted 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. (
“when I was a lad, I sailed the berm with a red moptop and some unleashed sperm”
Am I seeing things or are you freestyling some Gilbert and Sullivan here?
I think you meant “freebasing”…
Is that article on Joanna Newsom considered an interview? I mean, a writer usually has to talk to the subject in order to write a profile, but I don’t think that automatically makes the piece an interview.
Anyway, I think it’s a great piece.
It’s especially fun because I live in Nevada City. That makes it exciting.