Hurricane Jeanne blew into town on Sunday and knocked out our power until today (Tuesday). So please pardon the gap in my posts.
The chief difference between a hurricane and a bad rain storm, IMO, is the wind. Hurricanes howl. They blow in hard. It's somewhat shocking.
It made me think of this poem. It's one of my favorites by William Blake. I admire its economy. And despite its 1794 publication date, I think it sounds quite modern. It's from "Songs of Experience."
The SICK ROSE
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Friday, September 24, 2004
Snoozing through the presidential debates
I expect I will watch all three presidential debates, because I am a news junkie and unable to resist their wonkish allure. But I also expect there will be moments watching when I am bored stiff. Why? Because the campaigns of both major parties do their level best to turn debates into what are essentially joint press conferences, devoid of confrontation or spontaneity. How do they do it? By agreeing to rules ahead of time that limit questioning by the moderators, the public and even the candidates themselves. Check out this year's rules here.
A new book outlines the problem. It's called No Debate: How the Republican and Democratic Parties Secretly Control the Presidential Debates, by George Farah. I haven't read it but it sounds fascinating. IYou can read a review at the Columbia Journalism Review here and check out Farah's organization Open Debates here.) Farah is starting a movement to wrest control of the debates away from the major parties and give them back to a nonpartisan commission. Did you know the major parties ran the debates? I didn't. The major parties took over in 1988 because they thought the League of Women Voters was being far too independent and inquisitive, and questioning those poor little ole' candidates too roughly. Meanies!
A little postscript -- Spoonreader is officially a nonpartisan blog, dedicated to fairness and accuracy. But from time to time I will write about nonfiction books, including books that deal with political issues. Here's the first one.
A new book outlines the problem. It's called No Debate: How the Republican and Democratic Parties Secretly Control the Presidential Debates, by George Farah. I haven't read it but it sounds fascinating. IYou can read a review at the Columbia Journalism Review here and check out Farah's organization Open Debates here.) Farah is starting a movement to wrest control of the debates away from the major parties and give them back to a nonpartisan commission. Did you know the major parties ran the debates? I didn't. The major parties took over in 1988 because they thought the League of Women Voters was being far too independent and inquisitive, and questioning those poor little ole' candidates too roughly. Meanies!
A little postscript -- Spoonreader is officially a nonpartisan blog, dedicated to fairness and accuracy. But from time to time I will write about nonfiction books, including books that deal with political issues. Here's the first one.
Newbie blogger
Yes, this is my first blog. If you are an experienced blogger and have suggestions for improving my blog, please email me (link is on the left or here). A friend of mine had to alert me to change my settings so you can post comments without registering as a Blogger user. So I changed it, and now you can post comments without registering. (Hint, hint, DJ, maybe you'll post a comment now?)
I have to say having my own blog has been a blast so far. I'm even learning a little html, whoda thunk it? If you're interested in learning html, here's the site I used to learn the basics.
I have to say having my own blog has been a blast so far. I'm even learning a little html, whoda thunk it? If you're interested in learning html, here's the site I used to learn the basics.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Where do you buy your books?
You won't see me linking all the books I mention to the Amazon web site (though I will link there sometimes).
It's not that I don't like Amazon. I do like them, very much. You can get so many different kinds of books from them, often even the most obscure titiles. And as someone who grew up in a rural town of 4,000 in south Louisiana, I'm sure that Amazon is a virtual godsend to people who have limited access to bookstores or libraries. Amazon has made books from almost anywhere available to almost anyone (at least in the U.S.).
But -- if you live in a city, and can support an independently owned bookstore in your area, please do it. A knowledgeable staff and a small but smartly chosen inventory are absolute treasures. They make independent bookstores oases of intellectual inquiry. I hooked up with a great, great book group through my local store.
You can search for an independent bookstore near you here.
To see the best sellers at independent bookstores, go here.
It's not that I don't like Amazon. I do like them, very much. You can get so many different kinds of books from them, often even the most obscure titiles. And as someone who grew up in a rural town of 4,000 in south Louisiana, I'm sure that Amazon is a virtual godsend to people who have limited access to bookstores or libraries. Amazon has made books from almost anywhere available to almost anyone (at least in the U.S.).
But -- if you live in a city, and can support an independently owned bookstore in your area, please do it. A knowledgeable staff and a small but smartly chosen inventory are absolute treasures. They make independent bookstores oases of intellectual inquiry. I hooked up with a great, great book group through my local store.
You can search for an independent bookstore near you here.
To see the best sellers at independent bookstores, go here.
Happiness is ...
Are people really good judges of what will make them happy? Or is there something about happiness that must remain forever out of reach, like the rainbow that hovers just over the horizon, no matter how fast you approach it?
Tom Perrotta's new novel, Little Children, is full of characters who are spectacular at misjudging their own desires. They think they want to get married and have kids, but once they do, they feel trapped. Perhaps an affair will alleviate the boredom? Wrong again, it just makes the logistics that much more complicated. The suburban couples in Little Children are so busy cataloguing their discontents that they're unable to step back and say, hey, maybe I've got it pretty good here. (You can read an excerpt of the book here.)
Satirizing the suburbs may seem like shooting fish in a barrel, but Perrotta has a delicate touch. His characters are woefully shortsighted but still oddly likeable. And Perrotta has the most wonderful sense of pacing -- I read this novel very quickly, because at the end of every chapter I wanted to know the answer to that most profound of narrative questions: What happens next?
Perrotta also wrote Election, which was turned into a sharp, satirical movie with Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon. (And if you like that movie, you should check out the director Alexander Payne's other brilliant films Citizen Ruth and About Schmidt.)
And in answer to my opening questions, yes, I think we can know what makes us happy, but only if we have significant amounts of maturity and self-discipline. It takes detachment from the infantile, consumerist desires of "me" and "more."
Tom Perrotta's new novel, Little Children, is full of characters who are spectacular at misjudging their own desires. They think they want to get married and have kids, but once they do, they feel trapped. Perhaps an affair will alleviate the boredom? Wrong again, it just makes the logistics that much more complicated. The suburban couples in Little Children are so busy cataloguing their discontents that they're unable to step back and say, hey, maybe I've got it pretty good here. (You can read an excerpt of the book here.)
Satirizing the suburbs may seem like shooting fish in a barrel, but Perrotta has a delicate touch. His characters are woefully shortsighted but still oddly likeable. And Perrotta has the most wonderful sense of pacing -- I read this novel very quickly, because at the end of every chapter I wanted to know the answer to that most profound of narrative questions: What happens next?
Perrotta also wrote Election, which was turned into a sharp, satirical movie with Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon. (And if you like that movie, you should check out the director Alexander Payne's other brilliant films Citizen Ruth and About Schmidt.)
And in answer to my opening questions, yes, I think we can know what makes us happy, but only if we have significant amounts of maturity and self-discipline. It takes detachment from the infantile, consumerist desires of "me" and "more."
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Another Bullshit Night in Suck City
Is this the best title ever or what? It appeals greatly to the black-clad, Smiths-listening, angst-ridden teenager I once was.
The book is by Nick Flynn. I read an excerpt in the New Yorker in July. Drunk guy ends up in rehab, becomes counselor to the homeless, meets up with his own alcoholic father. Dad claims he's still working on his masterpiece of a novel (yeah right). It showed what con artists addicts can be, as well as the creepy allure of alcohol. People in recovery often call it "cunning, baffling, powerful" -- what a powerful, compact description.
I've noticed a string of interesting-looking books dealing with alcoholism recently. Of course, one of my absolute favorite novels ever is David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. It's a doorstop of a novel, coming in at 1,088 pages. But it's so funny and hard and poignant; I just love it. One of the main characters is Don Gately, a recovering addict and half-way house counselor. Infinite Jest is set in the future, after an environmental cataclysm, when years are sponsored by corporations (i.e. The Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment, The Year of the Tucks Medicated Pad). Other major plot elements include a tennis academy for athletic prodigies and Canadian separatists in wheelchairs. But a substantial part of the novel aims at explaining the power and attraction of the Alcoholics Anonymous program. (If IJ sounds interesting to you, you might want to look at the excellent Wallace fan site, Howling Fantods.)
High up on my future reading list is Dry, by Augusten Burroughs, and My Name is Bill, by Susan Cheever. Burroughs wrote a harrowing and hilarious coming-of-age memoir, Running with Scissors, about life with his crazy mother and her seemingly equally crazy shrink. (Warning, some of it is quite disturbing.) His excellent web site, http://www.augusten.com/, is shut down for a re-design, darn it.
I have a copy of the Bill Wilson biography; from a cursory look-through, it appears highly readable. (Here's a review.) All hail readable biography!!! Just not enough of that in the world.
The book is by Nick Flynn. I read an excerpt in the New Yorker in July. Drunk guy ends up in rehab, becomes counselor to the homeless, meets up with his own alcoholic father. Dad claims he's still working on his masterpiece of a novel (yeah right). It showed what con artists addicts can be, as well as the creepy allure of alcohol. People in recovery often call it "cunning, baffling, powerful" -- what a powerful, compact description.
I've noticed a string of interesting-looking books dealing with alcoholism recently. Of course, one of my absolute favorite novels ever is David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. It's a doorstop of a novel, coming in at 1,088 pages. But it's so funny and hard and poignant; I just love it. One of the main characters is Don Gately, a recovering addict and half-way house counselor. Infinite Jest is set in the future, after an environmental cataclysm, when years are sponsored by corporations (i.e. The Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment, The Year of the Tucks Medicated Pad). Other major plot elements include a tennis academy for athletic prodigies and Canadian separatists in wheelchairs. But a substantial part of the novel aims at explaining the power and attraction of the Alcoholics Anonymous program. (If IJ sounds interesting to you, you might want to look at the excellent Wallace fan site, Howling Fantods.)
High up on my future reading list is Dry, by Augusten Burroughs, and My Name is Bill, by Susan Cheever. Burroughs wrote a harrowing and hilarious coming-of-age memoir, Running with Scissors, about life with his crazy mother and her seemingly equally crazy shrink. (Warning, some of it is quite disturbing.) His excellent web site, http://www.augusten.com/, is shut down for a re-design, darn it.
I have a copy of the Bill Wilson biography; from a cursory look-through, it appears highly readable. (Here's a review.) All hail readable biography!!! Just not enough of that in the world.
Why Spoon River Anthology?
This blog is named as a tribute to Spoon River Anthology, by Edgar Lee Masters.
Why am I so enamored of this book?
First off, I love the book's structure. Spoon River Anthology tells the story of life in a small town during the late 1800s. The book is a collection of similar poems: Each is a dead person speaking from the grave, reflecting on his or her life and life in Spoon River. Just a few of the poems I really like are Mrs. Williams, Fiddler Jones, and Lucius Atherton.
Some of the characters even comment on each other and contradict each other's rationales and explanations. (The dueling married couple Roscoe Purkapile and Mrs. Purkapile are a great example.) Some of the poems are funny, some are sad, some are contemplative. They are all different.
But when you take them together, they form a cohesive whole, an almost different entity. I grew up in a small town, and the portrait Spoon River Anthology paints of small-town life strikes me as vividly accurate: The community spirit, the caring for neighbors, as well as the injustice and hypocrisy. In modern times, it seems like we revile hypocrisy as the worst sin, but Edgar Lee Masters sympathetically shows that hypocrisy is an inherent part of human nature.
Have you heard of the 2004 book, The Wisdom of Crowds, by James Surowiecki, a business writer for the New Yorker? The subtitle is, "Why the Many Are Smarter Than the Few and How Collective Wisdom Shapes Business, Economies, Societies and Nations." It's about how groups can make the most intelligent decisions. Taken together, Spoon River residents reveal true wisdom. The whole is greater than the parts, and the parts are pretty good, too.
Look again at Mrs. Williams, and then read Lucinda Matlock. These women both have truths to impart. It's pretty profound.
Why am I so enamored of this book?
First off, I love the book's structure. Spoon River Anthology tells the story of life in a small town during the late 1800s. The book is a collection of similar poems: Each is a dead person speaking from the grave, reflecting on his or her life and life in Spoon River. Just a few of the poems I really like are Mrs. Williams, Fiddler Jones, and Lucius Atherton.
Some of the characters even comment on each other and contradict each other's rationales and explanations. (The dueling married couple Roscoe Purkapile and Mrs. Purkapile are a great example.) Some of the poems are funny, some are sad, some are contemplative. They are all different.
But when you take them together, they form a cohesive whole, an almost different entity. I grew up in a small town, and the portrait Spoon River Anthology paints of small-town life strikes me as vividly accurate: The community spirit, the caring for neighbors, as well as the injustice and hypocrisy. In modern times, it seems like we revile hypocrisy as the worst sin, but Edgar Lee Masters sympathetically shows that hypocrisy is an inherent part of human nature.
Have you heard of the 2004 book, The Wisdom of Crowds, by James Surowiecki, a business writer for the New Yorker? The subtitle is, "Why the Many Are Smarter Than the Few and How Collective Wisdom Shapes Business, Economies, Societies and Nations." It's about how groups can make the most intelligent decisions. Taken together, Spoon River residents reveal true wisdom. The whole is greater than the parts, and the parts are pretty good, too.
Look again at Mrs. Williams, and then read Lucinda Matlock. These women both have truths to impart. It's pretty profound.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
First post
This is my first post. I'm going to write about books that I like on this blog.
The name of this blog is a tribute to one of my favorite books: Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters.
The name of this blog is a tribute to one of my favorite books: Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters.
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