- In an effort to demonstrate just how lazy bloggers can be, I’m now typing these words from bed. This is because I had a frightening amount of coffee yesterday and I am trying to mostly abstain from caffeine today. Frankly, my imbibing on this front took me aback. But it was required yesterday, because I interviewed a super-smart author. Today, I will try to learn a few Esperanto words and shout these at the top of my lungs while conducting an impromptu one-person version of leapfrog — that is, if the neighbors end up screwing like dormice. There will be few jokes, unless something truly riles me up. For now, there’s linkage.
- Revolting returns in new form, although it’s considerably slicker — and, dare I say it, not as promisingly revolting — than its previous incarnation.
- A 1986 Mac Plus goes up against a 2007 AMD Dual Core. See who wins. It ain’t exactly John Henry, although one wonders why a test along those lines hasn’t been revisited. (There was, incidentally, a comparable showdown executed a few days ago between me, flipping through an unwieldy unabridged, and one Jackson West, consulting his laptop — both of us looking for a word definition. I lost. Within ten seconds. And it was Jackson who remarked upon the John Henry connection and made me laugh.) (via 2 Blowhards)
- I am beginning to wonder if reading challenges are the litblogosphere’s answer to the reality TV show.
- Here’s why you don’t want to devote your creative energies to something without crossing your tees. Some filmmakers spent four years planning a Warhammer 40,000 fan film. They sunk 10,000 euros, employed actors and extras, and put together a 110 minute extravaganza. Alas, they failed to get the appropriate sanction of Games Workshop — indeed GW refused it after lengthy negotiations — and the film can now never be shown in front of an audience. All that time. All that effort. Wasted. I find this story very sad. All this could have easily be avoided if the amateur production was permitted more exhibitionist leeway (after all, it seems quite clear that they didn’t intend to see a profit for this thing) or the filmmakers had bothered to perform the most basic of preparatory tasks: obtaining permission.
- We’re only just in November, but PW appears to have the first Best Books of 2007 list I can find.
- Steven Hall on the American book tour, which sounds like drug trafficking (at least the way he describes it): “It really is solitary. It depends how you do it. The one I did across America was really solitary. I met someone from my publishers in L.A., and they gave me an envelope full of money and a schedule and said, ‘We’ll see you in New York in three weeks.’”
- Now this is fucking appalling. (And I’m surprised this didn’t happen in America first.) It’s bad enough that some books bother to have advertising inserts at all, but using advertising agencies to slip bullshit cards into books and pollute libraries with this junk (Will the advertising agencies be responsible for removing the inserts? I don’t think so!) is an absolute betrayal of the public trust. The cretins who authorized this ought to be ashamed of themselves for whoring out one of the few public spaces where one can escape from the cacophony of advertising.
- “Take No Chances” Ciabattari is proudly featured over at “Take No Chances” Kottke. Two duller people couldn’t deserve each other any more.
Roundup — Slipshod Edition
– November 6, 2007Posted in: Uncategorized
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. (
There is a copy of… some book, hanging around our office that was printed in the 1970′s. It has a 4-color glossy cigarette advertisement smack dab in the middle. Classy.
Praising readers with faint scorn:
Mark Jackson, of Howse Jackson Marketing, said: “Library inserts are innovative, unique and offer audience segments which can be traditionally hard to reach.
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/modern_day_john_henry_dies_trying