Month / March 2007
Coffee: An Entirely Reasonable Breakfast Substitute for Oatmeal
Scientific American: “Some good news for coffee lovers: a cup of joe may get you going in more ways than one. A new study shows that brewed coffee contains soluble fiber, the roughage found in oatmeal and apples that aids digestion, helps the body absorb vital nutrients and keeps a lid on cholesterol.”
McSweeney’s Sells Its Lifetime Subscribers the Brooklyn Bridge
Sometimes, Gawker is good for something. Apparently, Dave Eggers has sent out a notice to lifetime subscribers of McSweeney’s, begging these lifetime subscribers to switch over to a normal yearly subscription.
The whole notice is available in full here. It wouldn’t be so bad, if it weren’t written in the same bullshit cheery timbre that is the worst part of the entire McSweeney’s operation. If I were to pay a Lasik surgeon to correct my vision, the last thing I’d need is some giddy douchebag jumping up and down a few years later demanding additional money for services I have already paid him for, when my vision is perfectly fine. That the douchebag is throwing in a stupid card game and a Certificate of Lifelong Gratitude for the joy of conning me of my money is even more insulting. If on the other hand, the surgeon were to come to me in all seriousness and, say, “Look, Ed. We’re going to need another operation to correct a corneal flap. It’s going to cost a few hundred. I’m sorry. These things happen. But it’s in everyone’s best interests,” then I’d probably be okay with it. (Of course, if my vision were to go to hell, caveat emptor, as they say. And I’d have to live with my shoddy vision the rest of my life. But then that’s why I took the risk in the first place.)
[UPDATE: Lindsay nails it.]
[UPDATE 2: I should probably point out, in all fairness, that since the notice was without a byline, Dave Eggers may not have been the one to write it.]
n+1 Revealed
Mark Sarvas provides the first of a much needed glimpse inside the inner trappings of n+1. I’m as shocked as anyone to learn that there was a time in which the people at n+1 were friendly with litbloggers. But, like all enfants terrible, something caused these manboys to lapse into unintentional self-parody and attack the people who, oddly enough, are probably in the best position to sing their praises. Since Keith Gessen and Marco Roth, as far as I know, lack the introspective know-how and perspicacity to pursue therapy, I certainly hope that Mark’s generosity, in which he will reveal the shifting character of these two men, will assist all parties.
Roundup
- In the most recent New Yorker: Jonathan Lethem’s “Lucky Alan.” Also, Lethem’s current obsession with copyright, which, as far as I can tell, seems to have originated from this interesting Harper’s essay, continues anew with a cunning plan related to his newest novel.
- Apparently, Fidel Castro met up with Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Marquez’s account is here. The two men concluded that the prostate gland is the starting point for all Marxist revolutions.
- Matthew Gray is working on a Google Maps feature of the Earth viewed by literary locations.
- A new pilot called Literary Superstar is being planned. The pilot stars Jenna Elfman. The “superstar” in question is a publicist. No doubt watered down hijinks will ensue, with Elfman inexplicably living in a lavish Central Park West apartment. Because we can certainly count on Hollywood for financial verisimilitude, can’t we?
- Sam Savage is interviewed at Bluestalking Reader.
- J. Peder Zane tries to understand DFW’s baffling Top Ten Books list. Meanwhile, a man foolish enough to gloss over Philip K. Dick’s prose declares literary lists “an obscenity.” (via Sarvas)
- Is Oregon a more ideal place to set up a publisher than New York? (via Brockman)
- John Sutherland sings the praises of Jake Arnott’s Johnny Come Home.
- Litpark talks with Elizabeth Crane.
- Quiet Bubble has some choice words for Woody Allen.
- Like a zombie that keeps getting up after you shoot it several times in the chest with a pump-action shotgun, the damn OJ book is still alive.
- Who’d be a critic? Yeah, good question. Particularly when you’re as dishonest as Meg Rosoff. Apparently, Rosoff “only reviews books I really like. It’s cowardly, I know, but I figure it’s not my job to make people unhappy.” As a critic who tries to remain as honest, discerning, enthusiastic and constructive as I can, as someone who pours blood, sweat and tears into any freelancing assignment, I can’t begin to express my infuriation here. If Rosoff is terrified of making people unhappy, then perhaps she should pursue a career as a publicist, since she clearly prefers the straightforward hand job-as-book review rather than an honest day’s labor. The Literary Saloon has more.