where'd you hear about this book? a review of sorts

Lush Life, by Richard Price

I went into Barnes & Noble after work a few weeks ago to kill time before a movie. Sat on the floor and looked through the photo books for awhile. Diane Arbus. Nick Veasey. 

Wandered by the noteworthy fiction table and scanned some titles. Picked up Lush Life, the author's name looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place it. 

I put the book back and asked the girl at the customer service desk if they had a guidebook for my camera. She had left her car lights on and was in a rush to run out to the parking lot and turn them off. 

"Ummm," she said, "he can help you." 

Pointed to a paunchy, balding guy in his late twenties. 

I asked about the guidebook. Turns out they didn't have it in stock. He said they could have it in in a day or two. Had to backpedal and say I wasn't really sure if I wanted it. Felt awkward and cheap. All I wanted was to read the section on shutter speeds. 

Went back to the photo section and looked at Nick Veasey again.

I walked back by noteworthy fiction. Picked up Lush Life, still couldn't place Richard Price. Started to read the back. 

"Hey, did you find your camera book?" 

Customer service girl was back. 

I told her I decided not to get it, felt cheap again. Held up Lush Life and asked if I could pay for it there at the customer service desk. She shook her head and pointed to the front counter. I thanked her for all her help and hustled out of there. 

Reading the back as I walked, thinking maybe I would ditch it on the new releases table on the way out. 

On the back, Michael Chabon calls Price "our best, one of the best writers of dialogue in the history of American literature." This is like Ray Allen saying someone has a sweet jumpshot. I decide to actually buy the book. 

Pay in cash, no bag, thank you, have a nice day. 

Reading the book at home and the first chapter is called "Fishing Hole on Delancey." I remember who Richard Price is. First time I heard his name was on The Moth where he tells the real Fishing Hole on Delancey story of doing ride-alongs with the NYPD while researching a book. Apparently, Lush Life. 

I remember what an incredible story that episode was and high-five myself for making such a good choice. 

Rest of the book is a slam dunk. It's like reading a season of The Wire. Storylines for victims, perps, and law enforcement all bleed in and out and onto each other effortlessly. Really nails 'the Dickensian aspect.' I'm almost-smiling and almost-crying on every other page it seems like. 

Fuck, The Wire was such an awesome show and this book is almost as good!

Turns out Richard Price was a writer on The Wire. 

On this day in history...

Pour one out for the old boy! James Joyce died sixty-eight years ago today.

"It did not matter that it was the last of her money, that now she would have to walk home, and alone. The pilings of snow were like the white waves of a white sea, and she rode upon them, carried by winds and tides of the moon. I do not know what I want, and perhaps I shall never know, but my only wish from every star will always be another star; and truly I am not afraid, she thought. Two boys came out of a bar and stared at her; in some park some long time ago she'd seen two boys and they might be the same. Truly I am not afraid, she thought, hearing their snowy footsteps following her; and anyway, there was nothing left to steal."
Final paragraph from Truman Capote's short story, 'Master Misery' (about an old man who pays for people's dreams).

What are you reading? Post an excerpt!

A Word to the Wise

Nine-year-old Alec Greven gives his advice on dating from his book "How to Talk to Girls."

you don't love me yet

In case you were wondering, the best sentence (fragment) in Jonathan Lethem's otherwise forgettable novel You Don't Love Me Yet is:

"Just tongue and a smudge of her hips and goodbye."

A good, swift, violent story

From The Postman Always Rings Twice by James Cain:


"You talk like it was all right."
"Who's going to know if it's all right or not, but you and me?"
"You and me."
"That's it, Frank. That's all that matters, isn't it? Not you and me and the road, or anything else but you and me."
"You must be a hell cat, though. You couldn't make me feel like this if you weren't."
"That's what we're going to do. Kiss me, Frank. On the mouth."
I kissed her. Her eyes were shining up at me like two blue stars. It was like being in church.

sweet Virginia; punctuation princess

Depending on your feelings towards the semicolon (and freindirekterede), the first pages of Mrs. Dalloway are either willfully wonderful or indulgently insipid.

"Real men... don't use semicolons."

I've read and re-read Lynne Truss' "Eat, Shoots & Leaves." I list "punctuation" as one of my interests on my Facebook page. And, in all honesty, I find a man infinitely more attractive if he knows how to punctuate properly. Which leads me to this article I read about the gender bias of one of my favorite punctuation marks: the semicolon. Apparently, the semicolon is considered by some men to be "the most pusillanimous, sissified, utterly useless mark of punctuation ever invented." Why are males so afraid of the little tick and dot?

I've always loved the semicolon; at least, that is, since the day I learned how to use one. Soon after that day, I used it every chance I got; it allowed me to continue a single train of thought without ever having to justify my occasionally spotty transitions and jumps in logic. The semicolon was empowering; it forced my reader to conform to my way of thinking and to see it my way: "Yes, these two thoughts are related; get over it!"

How do YOU feel about the semicolon?

Summer People, Summer Not

"Summer People" by Ernest Hemingway.

Browsing through a collection of Hemingway short stories for "Ten Indians," I chanced upon the hitherto overlooked (by me) story "Summer People." As chance and luck would have it, "Summer People" is, like "Ten Indians," a Nick Adams story about girls and the manly art of emotional repression.

Lazy summer nights seem to bring out the worst in callow existentialists and young Nick is no exception. Over the course of one gloriously indifferent evening, Nick shows off his diving skills, holds his breath, muses on the sensual possibilities of fucking a mermaid, decides he must be the best swimmer in Michigan, and for a shallow coup de grace screws his friend Odgar's girlfriend in an apple orchard - afterwards they eat fried chicken and pie.

Favorite passages:

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Odgar said, his voice becoming husky, near to Kate again.
"Oh, hell, let's not talk about tomorrow," Nick said. "Let's talk about my mermaid."
"We're through with your mermaid."
"All right," Nick said. "You and Odgar go and talk. I'm going to think about her."
"You're immoral, Wemedge. You're disgustingly immoral."
"No, I'm not. I'm honest." Then lying with his eyes shut, he said, "Don't bother me. I'm thinking about her."

and

"Is it good this way?" he said.
"I love it. I love it. I love it. Oh, come, Wemedge. Please come. Come, come. Please, Wemedge. Please, please, Wemedge."
"There it is," Nick said.
He was suddenly conscious of the blanket rough against his bare body.
"Was I bad, Wemedge?" Kate said.
"No, you were good," Nick said. His mind was working very hard and clear. He saw everything very sharp and clear. "I'm hungry," he said.

Wonderfully blunt and unadorned, "Summer People" is a deceptively kind portrayal of erotic self-absorption. Indifference, whether feigned or genuine, disappears when Nick immerses himself in the sensual world, returning only when he comes up for air and in an act of authorial benevolence that transcends forgiveness or affection, Hemingway abstains from any judgment or defense.

Recommended for aficionados of summer nights, swimming underwater and the simple eroticism of an e.e. cummings poem.

No one belongs here more than you

So I am going to be in California for a little longer than expected and so I'm glad I picked up a few books. I am in the middle of reading a series of short stories by filmmaker, performance artist, and author Miranda July. This is her second published set of shorts and her debut solo authorship. The other book, Learning to Love You More was coauthored with Harrell Fletcher. July's stories are quirky to say the least and range in context from sexual encounters to the odd scenario of elderly women getting swimming lessons in a narrators kitchen. No One Belongs Here More Than You was the recipient of the 2007 Frank O'Connor International Short Story Award. Light in drama but extremely heavy in originality July's collection of short stories are really very beautiful and will leave you both semi-confused as well as laughing out loud. And, in quoting an Entertainment Weekly review of this collection: "Who will Miranda July's work appeal to? To borrow the name of her lovely first film, Me and You and Everyone We Know."

Here is a link to the website for this book, it's really kind of neat and wonderful: No one belongs here more than you. stories by Miranda July

The Dumbest Generation(?)

Mark Bauerlein, an English professor at Emory University, has written a book entitled, "The Dumbest Generation: How the Digital Age Stupefies Young Americans and Jeopardizes Our Future." After TAing for upper-level, writing-intensive college courses and seeing the typewritten swill that is trying to be passed off as prose, I'm concerned that Bauerlein may actually be on to something. I haven't read this book yet, but I think I'm going to. Within the next five years, I'm going to be a college professor, so I guess it's time to figure out what I may be up against. And, according to this guy, we're all part of the dumbest generation, so I'd also like to see what crimes against intellectualism we're taking the rap for.

Here's a list of 8 reasons why people shouldn't "trust anyone under 30" taken from the book.


Which ones do people agree with? Disagree with? Any that he left out? And, is anyone else thinking of reading the book?

Apropos of a Rainy Day

Two rainy days are on the way and this clip seemed appropriate. Support your local bookstore, drink responsibly, and enjoy the weather.



The Big Sleep (1946)

Book Review: The Old Religion by David Mamet

David Mamet is a critically acclaimed novelist, playwright and screenwriter. He is best known for his works like "Glengarry Glen Ross" for which he won a Pulitzer Prize and "American Buffalo". "The Old Religion" is the tale of Leo Frank, a Jewish factory owner who is falsely accused of the rape and murder of a young girl who happened to work at his factory. The book holds nothing back, the events are fully disclosed together with the testimony against Frank--including the one by the man who actually murdered the girl and several of his untrusting, anti-Semitic coworkers. "The Old Religion" takes a look into the psyche of a powerful Jewish man living in the South. It's a story of a man who will do and say anything to try and hide or blanket his Judaism in a world where he is seen as nothing but someone who just doesn't belong. Mamet creates an utterly original novel by showing a man who tries everything to be just an American--but instead his religion is constantly at the forefront. In addition, Frank is imprisoned but later abducted by an angry mob and lynched. Pictures of his corpse were later photographed and sold as postcards across the south for many years. "The Old Religion" seems provcative at it's core but it is really a statement on the still lingering hatred of the unknown in which we call "Minorities" in America.

Book Review: Of Walking in Ice

Munich - Paris
23 November - 14 December 1974
by Werner Herzog

"My boots were so solid and new that I had confidence in them. I set off on the most direct route to Paris, in full faith, believing that she would stay alive if I came on foot. Besides, I wanted to be alone with myself."

Upon learning that his friend Lotte Eisner was dying, Werner Herzog packed a small duffel with the essentials (compass, notebook, jacket) and set off alone on foot across half of Europe to save her. He walked for three weeks, sleeping at night in barns and deserted summer cottages and chronicling the details of the trek (both beautiful and ugly) in his journal. In an early entry he notes he would have made the trip in about an hour and a half by plane but anyone familiar with Herzog's work will find his preferred mode of transport unsurprising.

"Only if this were a film would I consider it real."

Like his films, Herzog’s journal remains firmly in the moment. His nightly entries capture the changing momentum and feel of his days as the weather and physical demands of the trip alternately frustrate and exhilarate him. Although he allows himself the occasional rant, for the most part he eschews personal introspection and epiphany hunting in favor of an avid interest in everything around him. Equal weight is given to the solving of an unfinished crossword puzzle in a home he has broken into as he devotes to choosing his route. His egalitarian perspective on the import of events creates momentum and makes for an exciting reading experience (aside from a break to grab a beer and some pretzels, I found myself compelled to finish this in one sitting).

"At the market was a boy on crutches, leaning against the wall of a house as my feet refused to cooperate anymore. With a single, brief exchange of glances we measured the degree of our relationship."

Stylistically, Herzog's prose borrows from both his feature and documentary film making styles, combining poetic austerity with more blatant philosophizing. In his films he is adept at exposing the beauty in found moments (Kinski and the butterfly in My Best Fiend, the opening of Aguirre, etc...) but in his documentary narration he is prone to pushing for a meaning beyond what seems to be inherent (for example his comments on the bear that killed Treadwell in Grizzly Man). There are plenty of musings of the latter type in his journal but he also seems to intuit which moments are best left with a minimum of superfluous description. I came away impressed with the quality and momentum of Herzog’s writing and although familiarity with his films certainly enhances appreciation it’s hardly a prerequisite to enjoying this wonderful little book.

Great Men in History: Edward Lorenz, PhD

Today, Edward Lorenz, the father of chaos theory and the man who popularized the "butterfly effect", died in Cambridge, MA at the age of 90. Click here to access his obituary.

Not surprisingly, literature and film have embraced the underlying ideas of chaos theory. My favorite post-modern play, Arcadia by Tom Stoppard, focuses on the mathematics behind fractals during the 1800s and contemporary times. Chaos theory also plays a large role in the movie "Pi".

While searching the wikipedia page for chaos theory, it also mentions that chaos theory is mentioned in the films "The Butterfly Effect," "Chaos", and "The Science of Sleep." I haven't seen the other two, but I don't remember any mention of chaos theory in "The Science of Sleep" - does anyone else remember it?

Here's a cool webpage on fractals. The image above is also generated by fractals.

Musicophilia - Oliver Sacks

Yesterday, I finished reading Oliver Sacks’ most recent book Musicophilia. The book is a fascinating look at the patients Sacks has encountered in his forty-plus years as a neurologist. The specific theme is about brain injury and disease and developmental disorders that cause otherwise healthy people to experience music in unusual ways.

Sacks describes each case in wonderful detail which helps the reader connect with his patients. This book shows those with and without neuroscience backgrounds the amazing possibilities of the human mind and how music seems to be more deeply encoded in our memory and minds than our own day-to-day life experiences.

Some of the most amazing cases concern Williams Syndrome, a genetic developmental disorder that causes mental retardation, heart problems, and usual facial features. Individuals with William’s Syndrome are extremely friendly, have large, fluent vocabularies, and often have a passionate love of music. One woman with an IQ of 70 (which is the cutoff for mental retardation) is a professional opera singer with a repetoire of over 2000 songs in 35 languages, yet she cannot add 5 and 3.

Some other phenomena/disorders discussed in the book are musical hallucinations, absolute pitch, amusia, amnesia, aphasia, Alzheimer’s, synesthesia, autism, and Parkinson’s disease.

"I love science, and it pains me to think that so many are terrified of the subject or feel that choosing science means you cannot also choose compassion, or the arts, or be awed by nature. Science is not meant to cure us of mystery, but to reinvent and reinvigorate it." - Robert Sapolsky

I think that this has always been my philosophy, but it took the right amount of time and self-reflection to come to this conclusion. For those of you wary of science yet still curious about what science may have to offer us concerning the complexity and mystery of the human condition, I suggest checking out any of Oliver Sacks’ books. My other favorites are The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, The Island of the Colorblind, and An Anthropologist on Mars.

Bono

"So, you like rich, altruistic Irish rockstars?"

I've just started Chuck Klosterman's latest book, IV, and I am enjoying it tremendously. His wit and wealth of trivial knowledge makes him one of the most incisive yet endearing pop culture critics out there. One of the chapters concerns an interview with Bono, which is simply hilarious. I won't paraphrase Mr. Klosterman because his prose is delicious, but I will recommend this book, despite just starting it.

Book Review: Dancing in the Streets - A History of Collective Joy

In researching for a possible essay on state fairs / carnivals / things like that I came across the book Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy by Barbara Ehrenreich. The book came out last year and is a kind of sociological survey of different events / moments in history that involve collective festivity. The book asks why we chose to celebrate in large groups and why sharing festivity/ fun with others is important. I'm almost completely done with the book (so I guess this isn't a legitimate review as of now) but so far it is fabulous. The book first looks at ritual dances and drumming common in different regions in Africa, and how the first European / Western explorers first deemed these communal events as "barbaric" and "satanic". It goes on to claim that the influence of Freud in the West – his ideas that humans cannot enjoy group settings that involve more than two people, as they immediately see them in terms of negative power/control dynamics – has made us, in the West, more prone to make these diagnoses. It also looks at the early cults of Dionysus and claims that Dionysus was, with his mysterious sexuality and strict adherence to revelry, the “first rock star”. The book explains how early carnivals in Europe were a means of social revolution/ upsetting the class system. How religion shut down carnival and how the Calvinist strain of the Protestant faith produced stalwart followers, wary of any kind of “fun” and especially “group fun” as found in carnivals or festivals. Calvinist diehards also produced one of the highest suicide rates of any other group of people ever documented in history. Ehrenreich’s diagnosis is that if they would have let themselves dance some more, they may have lived longer if less “moral” lives. Ehrenreich’s research covers more modern forms of collective joy – from fascist gatherings, to the “rock revolution” in the US and England in the 50s and 60s. I enjoy how the book has given me perspective. How it provides evidence of the kinds of intensely emotional/ spiritual collective celebrations that exist in other parts of the world and that have existed in history. My favorite insight from the book is that the human brain is wired to replicate dancing / rhythmic motion once it sees it. I recommend the book to anyone remotely interested in the subject – it offers a lot of compelling research and is an entertaining read. It will also make you feel morally obligated to dance / squeeze the most enjoyment out of any group celebration .