Month / December 2008
Roundup
- There are many batty angles contained within this New York Times Style piece: the notion that someone could earn a living as a “professional book-group facilitator,” the idea that a book could be discriminated against because it has book group questions in the back (when such questions can be easily ignored or torn out), or the suggested trauma that comes from the burden of selecting a title. But I will say this. Back in San Francisco, I had to try out five book clubs before I was forced to establish a book club of my own. I wanted to ensure that good books were read. I wanted to ensure that everyone had a say during the discussion. Admittedly, my standards were high. But finding a good book club is like finding a good mechanic or a good therapist. You have to dabble with a considerable number before you find the right one. At least with the book clubs, you’re not dealing with the intricate machinery of an automobile or the complex feelings of a baroque personality. (And you’re certainly not dealing with exorbitant bills.) If you can’t find the ideal book club, maybe you should test the waters and start your own. (There was also a fringe benefit I didn’t anticipate: book clubs, for whatever reason, got me dates.) In my case, it worked out well for about a year and a half before I had to give it up for other commitments (and not necessarily the kind you’re thinking, you dirty dirty reader!).
- Thank you, David Barber, for what is quite possibly the worst lede in the Atlantic‘s history. Let us put this into perspective. David Barber is the poetry editor — a man who would, by way of his title, have some grasp of language. And this nonsense is the best he can come up with? I’ve seen better first sentences in high school essays. Hell, I’ve heard better first lines from desperate middle-aged men trying to hope to hook up with slinky women in bars. Good Christ, what has happened to the Atlantic? Britney Spears on the cover, dull writing, idiotic subjects. I check in every so often with an open mind, hoping that the Atlantic will return to what it once was when I was a subscriber. This is especially troubling, because I once referred to Harper’s, The New Yorker, and the Atlantic as the Holy Trinity. Well, now the Atlantic is firmly off the list. And I need a third magazine to complete the trinity. Any suggestions from readers? What is your Holy Trinity of Magazines? Hell, the Atlantic is so bad these days that I’d rather read an issue of Wrestling USA.
- In fact, it’s so bad that Atlantic staffers are being commissioned for epic fail think pieces. Ben Schwarz has now teaming up with Caitlin Flanagan for this callow New York Times op-ed piece laden with generalizations. I hope that Mr. Schwarz had a cold shower just after turning in this piece. My, how the once mighty have fallen! (via LA Observed)
- “When the Plaza Hotel reopened in March 2008 after three years and $400 million in renovations, the 805-room grande dame of the NYC hotel scene was as unrecognizable as an aging matron who Botoxed her way back to the tautness of a 25-year-old.” Not necessarily the best simile, but considering that this is the New York Post, this is an unwonted sentence that is to be commended.
- To Adam Sternbergh: If you haven’t bothered to watch Mad Men, then why did you bother to write 1,100 words about why you don’t watch it? If you are being paid $1/word, why would you be such a lazy and worthless intellectual coprophilie and not investigate the show that you’re writing about? Why would you not go to the trouble of having your perceptions challenged? Or of offering an informed contrarian take to counter all the Mad Men mania? It’s only a few hours of your time to watch a few episodes. This is what makes good cultural journalism. No, instead, you’ve been paid $1,000 to tell us why you enjoy expressing your arrogant and uninformed idiocy. Why aren’t you out on the street holding a tin can begging for spare change and not getting a single dime? Why aren’t homeless people kicking you in the shins? Why isn’t a dependable team of mercenaries nailing hard pikes into your sorry excuse for a noggin while you’re trying to recover from a Sunday morning hangover? Why is this kind of insipid flummery being run in magazines when there are real journalists who are now out of work? Is that enough passionate advocacy for you? (To offer some perspective, 30,000 media jobs have been lost in 2008. But Adam Sternbergh inexplicably survives. Small wonder that Andrew Sullivan has concluded that it’s the end for newspapers.)
We Blame William Inge for This
The litblogging team had an early lead. But when our team fumbled an answer, PEN America took control of the literary trivia smackdown. We knew every answer that they did. But they had the opportunity to respond first. And in most cases, we didn’t know every answer that they didn’t know. You could sense some common polarity here. And it wasn’t too long before they jumped ahead of us by a good ten points.
It looked for a while that we wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of making a comeback. And then a bit of magic happened. We then took control of the questions, and inched our way to within striking distance. PEN America needed sixteen points to win. And we clawed our way up the mountain to a 15-13 shortfall. I urged Eric Rosenfield not to get too cocky about this, but the man was dripping boatloads of saliva. Had my hand not rested upon his right shoulder, he would have bolted out of his chair and performed like a spastic mascot before the PEN America team.
That’s when Levi Asher and I betrayed the litbloggers. The question was simple: What award-winning playwright wrote the script for the Marilyn Monroe film, The Misfits? Now I’ve seen the film and I knew the answer. It’s not a great film by any means. But somehow my brain misfired. I’m confident that our collective mistake had something to do with the spoons I brought. I played the spoons during every correct answer to ensure that there was a certain harmony in the air. Some pleasant syncopation that would get the audience on our side. Something that could turn this imposing smackdown into the living embodiment of a John G. Avildsen film.
But somehow Levi and I had blocked Arthur Miller’s name — the name we knew — from our noggins. By some mnemonic phenomenon, the two of us thought simultaneously of Bus Stop, a film adaptation that had indeed originated from a William Inge play (although George Axelrod wrote the screenplay).
“That’s Inge!” I cried.
“William Inge! Yeah!” Levi agreed. “Go for it.”
We remain convinced that PEN America, as amicable as they were, had placed some kind of hex upon our heads. Something to perplex us. Something that might cause us to declare more income on our tax returns.
Sarah Weinman, of course, knew the correct answer. But the two of us were too fast, too caught up in our enthusiasm, and the two words were uttered into the mike.
“Wrong,” said Tim Brown, who was clad in a spiffy tuxedo that could outclass Bill Cullen’s sartorial oeuvre.
We couldn’t backpedal from this mistake. Arthur Miller had once been the president of PEN America. We were fucked. And we had fucked ourselves. Making it a doublefuck, or possibly the kind of strange gymnastics that only great geographers like Artemidorus can identify.
And so PEN America, an organization that we proudly salute, smacked us down during the literary smackdown. But everyone played a very good game, offering strange answers when we didn’t know the correct ones, and we made some people smile.
The most important thing to take away from this friendly competition is that just about every literary person has the same interests and enthusiasms. The print and online people don’t have to drink from different fountains. And it’s too bad that the New York Review of Books wasn’t there to share the magic.
[UPDATE: WNYC has an audio report of the smackdown.]
The Best Translated Books of 2008
Chad Post has revealed the fiction longlist for translation over at Three Percent. The ten finalists will be announced on January 27th. The winners will be announced at Melville House HQ on February 19th. No word yet on whether there will be a multilingual presentation of either the finalists or the winners. And while Esperanto appears to have been sadly excluded from the initial languages, there are some fine offerings on the list.
Literary Smackdown This Sunday!
At last year’s Independent Small Press Book Fair, an imposing man posing in a tux (or perhaps not) took charge of a Literary Trivia Smackdown. The man was Tim Brown. This feral contest of wit and esoteric facts pitted A Public Space against The New York Review of Books. I attended this smackdown as a participant, entreating A Public Space to do better. I vowed to Mr. Brown and all the participants and all of the audience members and just about anybody who would listen that a group of litbloggers would be happy to challenge the winner to a new match. At long last, the great divide between print and online would come together in a battle of wills.
Well, the New York Review of Books won. And everything was set for this weekend. But at the eleventh hour, the New York Review of Books ran away, due to a combination of health problems involving one panelist’s father and fear. While all sympathies go out to this panelist’s father, one wonders whether the New York Review of Books abides by a helpful theatrical adage applicable to nearly all scenarios.
Thankfully, PEN America has stepped in at the last minute, stepping away from their human rights duties to contend with the strange specimens trawling and caterwauling in the litblogosphere. And the show will go on!
The litbloggers will be represented by Levi Asher, Eric Rosenfield, Sarah Weinman, and some assclown named Ed Champion. We may sing a few of our answers, or provide light verse to accompany our responses. I may bring a musical instrument or, at the very least, some spoons to play in between rounds if there is enough demand.
The PEN America team will be represented by David Haglund, Meghan Kyle-Miller, Larry Siems, and Lilly Sullivan. It is not yet known how serious this quartet plans to take this literary smackdown. But we have been informed by Mr. Brown that rules are now in place, and that apparently one can use a lifeline. Should our own team prove deficient in answering a question and require a lifeline, we will employ funny voices.
All of this silliness is going down at 4:00 PM this Sunday at the General Society Building located at 20 West 44th Street (between 5th and 6th Avenue). A considerable number of subway lines will get you there: the 1, 2, 3, A, C, E, R, and N.
Should you wish to cheer us on or mock us, the choice is happily deferred to you.