The ever fascinating Dan Gillmor, author of We the Media (see my previous post here), had an intriguing post on his Web log recently about newspaper archives.
As I'm sure you've noticed, links to some newspaper articles expire after a certain period. This is usually because a newspaper has moved the article from its free site to its paid site after a given time period, anywhere from three days to two weeks. Then you have to pay a fee to see the article. It's usually not a large fee -- maybe $3 -- but it's large enough that I can count on one hand the number of times I've paid for articles.
Gillmor suggests that papers open up their archives and make their money off of keyword-coded advertising. He has in mind something highly similar to the Google model, of small ads that appear along the side of the screen. So if you typed in "John Doe obituary", an advertisement for a local florist might pop up. Other upsides for the paper would be community goodwill and wider dissemination of its articles.
Gillmor's post original post is well worth reading; you can find it here.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Thursday, January 20, 2005
The Clearing
In the mood for some literary fiction that's not too long? Check out The Clearing by Tim Gautreaux. My book group recently read this.
Two brothers from Pittsburgh manage a cypress mill in the swamps of Louisiana and tangle with the mafia. One of the brothers can't forget his terrible memories of World War I.
I won't say anymore, because it's a good read and beautifully written. Thematically, it's somewhat dark, but it has moments of redemption.
You can find a good interview with Gautreaux here.
Two brothers from Pittsburgh manage a cypress mill in the swamps of Louisiana and tangle with the mafia. One of the brothers can't forget his terrible memories of World War I.
I won't say anymore, because it's a good read and beautifully written. Thematically, it's somewhat dark, but it has moments of redemption.
You can find a good interview with Gautreaux here.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Blink!
One of my favorite writers, Malcolm Gladwell, has a new book out. It's called Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. It's about snap judgments -- Glad well believes split-second decisions often can be startlingly accurate. Gladwell writes that his book tackles the questions, "What is going on in inside our heads when we engage in rapid cognition? When are snap judgments good and when are they not? What kinds of things can we do to make our powers of rapid cognition better?"
I expect Gladwell will be including some of his wonderful reporting from The New Yorker in the new book. One of my favorite articles of his was about an expert on facial expressions. We are all remarkably good at analyzing facial expressions quickly. But the expert Paul Ekman breaks it down to a science, especially looking for facial expressions that reveal deception. Here's an excerpt from that article. (Read the whole article at Gladwell's web site here.)
I expect Gladwell will be including some of his wonderful reporting from The New Yorker in the new book. One of my favorite articles of his was about an expert on facial expressions. We are all remarkably good at analyzing facial expressions quickly. But the expert Paul Ekman breaks it down to a science, especially looking for facial expressions that reveal deception. Here's an excerpt from that article. (Read the whole article at Gladwell's web site here.)
Ekman recalls the first time he saw Bill Clinton, during the 1992 Democratic primaries. "I was watching his facial expressions, and I said to my wife, 'This is Peck's Bad Boy,' " Ekman says. "This is a guy who wants to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and have us love him for it anyway. There was this expression that's one of his favorites. It's that hand-in-the-cookie-jar, love-me-Mommy-because-I'm-a-rascal look. It's A.U. twelve, fifteen, seventeen, and twenty-four, with an eye roll." Ekman paused, then reconstructed that particular sequence of expressions on his face. He contracted his zygomatic major, A.U. twelve, in a classic smile, then tugged the corners of his lips down with his triangularis, A.U. fifteen. He flexed the mentalis, A.U. seventeen, which raises the chin, slightly pressed his lips together in A.U. twenty-four, and finally rolled his eyes—and it was as if Slick Willie himself were suddenly in the room. "I knew someone who was on his communications staff. So I contacted him. I said, 'Look, Clinton's got this way of rolling his eyes along with a certain expression, and what it conveys is "I'm a bad boy." I don't think it's a good thing. I could teach him how not to do that in two to three hours.' And he said, 'Well, we can't take the risk that he's known to be seeing an expert on lying.' I think it's a great tragedy, because . . ." Ekman's voice trailed off. It was clear that he rather liked Clinton, and that he wanted Clinton's trademark expression to have been no more than a meaningless facial tic. Ekman shrugged. "Unfortunately, I guess, he needed to get caught—and he got caught."
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Question of the Year
"What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?"
That's the question of the year for 2005, posed by Edge, a literary/philosophical Web site the focuses on the world of science.
The answers, all from scientists and researchers, are fascinating. Read an excerpt from The New York Times' Science section here, or go to the Edge's site and read all 119 (!) answers here.
Here's just a bit from some of the answers:
How would you answer?
That's the question of the year for 2005, posed by Edge, a literary/philosophical Web site the focuses on the world of science.
The answers, all from scientists and researchers, are fascinating. Read an excerpt from The New York Times' Science section here, or go to the Edge's site and read all 119 (!) answers here.
Here's just a bit from some of the answers:
... I believe that microbial life exists elsewhere in our galaxy....If I were to answer the question of the year, I would say something sappy about the power of love. The scientists would likely snort in derision. Except for one, who said he believes without proof in true love.
... I believe, but cannot prove, that babies and young children are actually more conscious, more vividly aware of their external world and internal life, than adults are. ...
...I believe that consciousness and its contents are all that exists. ... The world of our daily experience - the world of tables, chairs, stars and people, with their attendant shapes, smells, feels and sounds - is a species-specific user interface to a realm far more complex, a realm whose essential character is conscious. ...
How would you answer?
Monday, January 03, 2005
Celebrity Q and A
If you like the question-and-answer format for celebrity interviews, you might want to check out, All I Did Was Ask: Conversations with Writers, Actors, Musicians and Artists, by Terry Gross.
Gross hosts "Fresh Air," a wonderful radio show on National Public Radio, where she interviews whoever she likes, typically in an hour-long format. Her choice of topics pretty much defines eclectic: comedians to politicians to religious leaders to jazz musicians.
In this book, published in September, her interview subjects include Michael Caine, Isabella Rossellini, Conan O'Brien, Chris Rock, Jodie Foster, John Updike, Mary Karr, George Clinton, Nick Hornby, Mario Puzo, Chuck Close, Samuel L. Jackson, and Johnny Cash, among others.
Her book is OK, not great. I've listened to a lot of the interviews she included in the book, and it's so much nicer to hear the people talk on the radio. Inflection and tone from the human voice can add an entirely different shade of meaning to a sentence. It really hits home the fact that as magnificently expressive as the written language is, it still takes second place to the vividness of spoken language. The written word requires parsing. That's why it's so important to read carefully and critically. I remind myself of that, because I like to speed through some books like a locomotive barreling down the tracks. Slow down there, I tell myself.
Gross hosts "Fresh Air," a wonderful radio show on National Public Radio, where she interviews whoever she likes, typically in an hour-long format. Her choice of topics pretty much defines eclectic: comedians to politicians to religious leaders to jazz musicians.
In this book, published in September, her interview subjects include Michael Caine, Isabella Rossellini, Conan O'Brien, Chris Rock, Jodie Foster, John Updike, Mary Karr, George Clinton, Nick Hornby, Mario Puzo, Chuck Close, Samuel L. Jackson, and Johnny Cash, among others.
Her book is OK, not great. I've listened to a lot of the interviews she included in the book, and it's so much nicer to hear the people talk on the radio. Inflection and tone from the human voice can add an entirely different shade of meaning to a sentence. It really hits home the fact that as magnificently expressive as the written language is, it still takes second place to the vividness of spoken language. The written word requires parsing. That's why it's so important to read carefully and critically. I remind myself of that, because I like to speed through some books like a locomotive barreling down the tracks. Slow down there, I tell myself.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Self-Help Secrets
I have a furtive fascination with self-help books. It's true. In stereotypical self-help tradition, I'll go ahead and blame it on my parents. They were big fans of Co-Dependent No More and various other tomes during the genre's heyday, the 1980s.
So on my bookshelf you will find the following books (and I include their solicitous subtitles):
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus: A Practical Guide for Improving Communication and Getting What You Want in Your Relationships, by John Gray.
The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate, by Gary Chapman.
Life Strategies: Doing What Works, Doing What Matters, by Phillip C. McGraw (this last one by Dr. Phil of Oprah fame).
There's something self-absorbed and almost goofy about these books. But, in the spirit of taking a tentative step out of the self-help closet, I'm recommending a new book, Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart: Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now.
First off, I love the title. I'm a sucker for a good title. Second off, it's not so much a self-help book as it is a collection of thoughtful essays on important spiritual truths. Each chapter tackles one maxim. Some of my favorites were "The statute of limitations has expired on most of our childhood traumas," "Nobody likes to be told what to do," and "It's a poor idea to lie to oneself." Then there are the ones that elicited a sardonic grin from me: "The problems of the elderly are frequently serious but seldom interesting," and "Parents have a limited ability to shape children's behavior, except for the worse."
The author is psychiatrist Gordon Livingston. The foreword is by Elizabeth Edwards, wife of vice presidential candidate John Edwards. They got to know each other through a bereaved parents' online community; both have children who have died, in Dr. Livingston's case, he lost two children. So he has some actual hard life experience from which to base his advice. I seems so unfair that tragedy gives him more authority to speak, but to me it certainly does.
Here's an excerpt to give you a sense of Livingston's writing, from the chapter "The most secure prisons are the ones we construct for ourselves":
So on my bookshelf you will find the following books (and I include their solicitous subtitles):
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus: A Practical Guide for Improving Communication and Getting What You Want in Your Relationships, by John Gray.
The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate, by Gary Chapman.
Life Strategies: Doing What Works, Doing What Matters, by Phillip C. McGraw (this last one by Dr. Phil of Oprah fame).
There's something self-absorbed and almost goofy about these books. But, in the spirit of taking a tentative step out of the self-help closet, I'm recommending a new book, Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart: Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now.
First off, I love the title. I'm a sucker for a good title. Second off, it's not so much a self-help book as it is a collection of thoughtful essays on important spiritual truths. Each chapter tackles one maxim. Some of my favorites were "The statute of limitations has expired on most of our childhood traumas," "Nobody likes to be told what to do," and "It's a poor idea to lie to oneself." Then there are the ones that elicited a sardonic grin from me: "The problems of the elderly are frequently serious but seldom interesting," and "Parents have a limited ability to shape children's behavior, except for the worse."
The author is psychiatrist Gordon Livingston. The foreword is by Elizabeth Edwards, wife of vice presidential candidate John Edwards. They got to know each other through a bereaved parents' online community; both have children who have died, in Dr. Livingston's case, he lost two children. So he has some actual hard life experience from which to base his advice. I seems so unfair that tragedy gives him more authority to speak, but to me it certainly does.
Here's an excerpt to give you a sense of Livingston's writing, from the chapter "The most secure prisons are the ones we construct for ourselves":
Probably the single most confusing thing that people tell each other is "I love you." We long to hear this powerful and reassuring message. Taken alone, however, unsupported by consistently loving behavior, this is frequently a lie -- or, more charitably, a promise unlikely to be fulfilled.I somewhat hesitate to call this book a self-help book, even though that was the section where it was shelved in the bookstore where I bought it. A label on the back of the book says, "Personal Growth/Psychology." This book takes up an interesting space -- it seems much more serious and world-weary than the average pop psychology book. Yet it contains spiritual truths likely accessible to people of different faiths or of none.
The disconnect between what we say and what we do is not merely a measure of hypocrisy, since we usually believe our statements of good intent. We simply pay too much attention to words -- ours and others' -- and not enough to the actions that really define us. The walls of our self-constructed prisons are made up in equal parts of our fear of risk and our dream that the world and the people in it will conform to our fondest wishes. It is hard to let go of a comforting illusion, but harder still to construct a happy life out of perceptions and beliefs that do not correspond to the world around us.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Underneath My Christmas Tree
My sister gave me a wonderful Christmas present: William Blake: The Complete Illuminated Books. (Look at it at the publisher's web site here.)
William Blake was an illustrator as well as a poet. Much of his poetry (perhaps all of it) was published in the form of drawings that Blake created himself. Click this link, for instance, to see the plate of my favorite Blake poem, The Sick Rose.
The reproduction in my new book is much crisper and more clear than the Internet link above. My book also includes all of Blake's work its original size, except for one image, the poem "Laocoon", that had to be reduced by about 30 percent.
I'm looking forward to reading the introduction by David Bindman.
Another thing that fascinates me about this paperback book is how relatively inexpensive it is. Amazon lists it at $25.17. I say this not to diminish my sister's wonderful gift, but to appreciate the fact that this kind of high-brow art is accessible at a reasonable price.
In other holiday books news, J.K. Rowling announced a few days before Christmas that the new Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, will be released on July 16. Hooray, hooray! I will be writing more about my appreciation for the Harry Potter books as this date approaches. I encourage anyone who loves books to at least try reading the first book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
William Blake was an illustrator as well as a poet. Much of his poetry (perhaps all of it) was published in the form of drawings that Blake created himself. Click this link, for instance, to see the plate of my favorite Blake poem, The Sick Rose.
The reproduction in my new book is much crisper and more clear than the Internet link above. My book also includes all of Blake's work its original size, except for one image, the poem "Laocoon", that had to be reduced by about 30 percent.
I'm looking forward to reading the introduction by David Bindman.
Another thing that fascinates me about this paperback book is how relatively inexpensive it is. Amazon lists it at $25.17. I say this not to diminish my sister's wonderful gift, but to appreciate the fact that this kind of high-brow art is accessible at a reasonable price.
In other holiday books news, J.K. Rowling announced a few days before Christmas that the new Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, will be released on July 16. Hooray, hooray! I will be writing more about my appreciation for the Harry Potter books as this date approaches. I encourage anyone who loves books to at least try reading the first book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Reading for a Merry Christmas
If you can make the time this week for some great reading, I urge you to turn to that old classic, A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. (Click the link to read it in its entirety.)
Because Tiny Tim looms so large in the popular consciousness, people mistakenly recall Dickens as being maudlin or sentimental. Actually, he has a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, especially when it comes to the rapacious excesses of industrial capitalism.
I particularly love the opening of A Christmas Carol. Here it is:
Because Tiny Tim looms so large in the popular consciousness, people mistakenly recall Dickens as being maudlin or sentimental. Actually, he has a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, especially when it comes to the rapacious excesses of industrial capitalism.
I particularly love the opening of A Christmas Carol. Here it is:
Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Teaching journalistic writing
William Zinsser is the author of On Writing Well, one of my favorite books about nonfiction writing. He's a new teacher at my alma mater, the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. What I wanna know is, how come he didn't teach when I was there? Not fair!
Read the alumni newsletter here announcing it. Warning, it's a pdf document.
Another tidbit I gleaned from the newsletter is that James B. Stewart is still working on Disneywar. (I've written about this book previously here.) Stewart teaches at Columbia, too, and in fairness I will add that he did teach then when I was a student, lo these many moons ago (1999, anyway).
Is anyone waiting for this book with more bated breath than me?
Read the alumni newsletter here announcing it. Warning, it's a pdf document.
Another tidbit I gleaned from the newsletter is that James B. Stewart is still working on Disneywar. (I've written about this book previously here.) Stewart teaches at Columbia, too, and in fairness I will add that he did teach then when I was a student, lo these many moons ago (1999, anyway).
Is anyone waiting for this book with more bated breath than me?
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Hot 100 X 2
The New York Times and The Washington Post have both published their lists of best books for 2004. Check them out here and here while they're still freely available.
I adore year-in-review lists. (And not just for books, I also like music and movies.) It's fun too see how many of the books I've read, and I get lots of ideas for what I want to read next.
On the other hand, the lists do give me that queasy feeling of being chronically underread. I think to myself, I'll never catch up! I try to accept this feeling and then move beyond it, because there are just too many books out there. No one, and I mean no one, will ever catch up. Get used to it!
For all you foodies out there, the NYT has also posted a section on the year's notable cookbooks. Check it out here for the time being.
I adore year-in-review lists. (And not just for books, I also like music and movies.) It's fun too see how many of the books I've read, and I get lots of ideas for what I want to read next.
On the other hand, the lists do give me that queasy feeling of being chronically underread. I think to myself, I'll never catch up! I try to accept this feeling and then move beyond it, because there are just too many books out there. No one, and I mean no one, will ever catch up. Get used to it!
For all you foodies out there, the NYT has also posted a section on the year's notable cookbooks. Check it out here for the time being.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
The Intermittence of Memory
Marilynne Robinson has a new book out. It's called Gilead. The New York Times Book Review calls it "demanding, grave and lucid." (Read their review here.)
I read Marilynne Robinson's first novel, Housekeeping about 10 years ago. I remember that I liked it a lot. But what was it about? ... an aunt, a couple of orphans maybe? I think the aunt comes to live with her nieces (or is it nephews?) after their parents die. Or something like that. And then my mind goes blank.
This is no slam on Robinson. I clearly, clearly, remember reading Anna Karenina when I was 16. My favorite English teacher recommended that I read it specifically, and it made a big impression on me. I loved the opening sentence: "All happy families are the same, but every unhappy family is unhappy in it's own way." But beyond that? Of course, I remember that Anna has an affair with Vronksy, and then she throws herself onto the railroad tracks in despair. But can I remember anything more insightful than this Cliff's Notes-like synopsis? I cannot.
This disturbs me. As I grow older, I find more and more that I can't remember details and subtle insights of all the books I've read. Sure I can remember some things ... I can remember specific lines like "Blow, winds, blow and crack your cheeks!" from King Lear. I can remember the spooky owl from the children's book Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, the poignancy of him foretelling the death of the tree where he lives. I can remember the love that Henri, a soldier in Napoleon's army, has for Villanelle, the Venetian casino dealer of Jeannette Winterson's The Passion. (But even that isn't quite so: I remember the love story, but I had to look up Villanelle's name and I initially misspelled Henri.)
If I can't remember books, does that mean I've lost their insights? I think I have lost some part of them. Partly for that reason, there are some books I read over and over again. To Kill a Mockingbird, for instance, is a book I try to read every year. And every year I get more out of it: I understand an allusion I didn't get previously, or certain parts of it mean more to me as I get older.
When it comes down to it, though, I think I do derive benefit from books even when I later lose track of their details. They affect me at the time that I read them. Here's a good analogy: I don't remember what I had for breakfast the first time I ran a 5K race, but I have no doubt it helped me all the same.
I read Marilynne Robinson's first novel, Housekeeping about 10 years ago. I remember that I liked it a lot. But what was it about? ... an aunt, a couple of orphans maybe? I think the aunt comes to live with her nieces (or is it nephews?) after their parents die. Or something like that. And then my mind goes blank.
This is no slam on Robinson. I clearly, clearly, remember reading Anna Karenina when I was 16. My favorite English teacher recommended that I read it specifically, and it made a big impression on me. I loved the opening sentence: "All happy families are the same, but every unhappy family is unhappy in it's own way." But beyond that? Of course, I remember that Anna has an affair with Vronksy, and then she throws herself onto the railroad tracks in despair. But can I remember anything more insightful than this Cliff's Notes-like synopsis? I cannot.
This disturbs me. As I grow older, I find more and more that I can't remember details and subtle insights of all the books I've read. Sure I can remember some things ... I can remember specific lines like "Blow, winds, blow and crack your cheeks!" from King Lear. I can remember the spooky owl from the children's book Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, the poignancy of him foretelling the death of the tree where he lives. I can remember the love that Henri, a soldier in Napoleon's army, has for Villanelle, the Venetian casino dealer of Jeannette Winterson's The Passion. (But even that isn't quite so: I remember the love story, but I had to look up Villanelle's name and I initially misspelled Henri.)
If I can't remember books, does that mean I've lost their insights? I think I have lost some part of them. Partly for that reason, there are some books I read over and over again. To Kill a Mockingbird, for instance, is a book I try to read every year. And every year I get more out of it: I understand an allusion I didn't get previously, or certain parts of it mean more to me as I get older.
When it comes down to it, though, I think I do derive benefit from books even when I later lose track of their details. They affect me at the time that I read them. Here's a good analogy: I don't remember what I had for breakfast the first time I ran a 5K race, but I have no doubt it helped me all the same.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
$5 vs. $0
As I've written previously, I recently watched the movie versions of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" and "Sense and Sensibility."
I rented the two movies -- technically, one movie and one mini-series -- from the local corporate video outlet at a cost of approximately $5. This weekend, I was at the library and saw both titles. I could have checked them out from the library at a cost of approximately $0.
I rented the two movies -- technically, one movie and one mini-series -- from the local corporate video outlet at a cost of approximately $5. This weekend, I was at the library and saw both titles. I could have checked them out from the library at a cost of approximately $0.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Librarians in the news
Two recent news bits on libraries here ...
First, librarians in Michigan want to pursue jail time as a penalty for the most egregious cases of overdue books. (Thanks to RF for the tip!)
Librarians there say they haven't had any problems, but they want to act now to create a "safe environment for children". That seems a little vague to me. I would describe it plainly as a pre-emptive meaure against child sex predators. But I guess they don't want to say "libraries" and "child sex predators" in the same sentence, and I suppose I can't blame them.
Jail time for the worst overdue borrowers sounds pretty good to me. I have more mixed feelings about the no-adults-in-the-kids-section rule. In principle, I don't like to see restrictions created before any actual problems have happened. It seems paranoid. On the other hand, I don't see a huge problem in asking adults, once they've made their book selections, to leave the kids section for the kids.
What do you think?
First, librarians in Michigan want to pursue jail time as a penalty for the most egregious cases of overdue books. (Thanks to RF for the tip!)
The other news is librarians in Orlando want to stop solitary adults from loitering in the children's section. Adults can go into the kid's section and get books, but no hanging out alone allowed.For example, one patron from Bad Axe owes $1,190 for 73 items — mainly science-fiction books — hoarded for more than a year, Paffhausen said.
Patrons keep an average of $25,000 in overdue materials out of the county's library system each year, officials said.
That costs taxpayers money, because the library often must buy second copies to replace unreturned materials, leaving less for new books, CDs and DVDs, Paffhausen said.
Librarians there say they haven't had any problems, but they want to act now to create a "safe environment for children". That seems a little vague to me. I would describe it plainly as a pre-emptive meaure against child sex predators. But I guess they don't want to say "libraries" and "child sex predators" in the same sentence, and I suppose I can't blame them.
Jail time for the worst overdue borrowers sounds pretty good to me. I have more mixed feelings about the no-adults-in-the-kids-section rule. In principle, I don't like to see restrictions created before any actual problems have happened. It seems paranoid. On the other hand, I don't see a huge problem in asking adults, once they've made their book selections, to leave the kids section for the kids.
What do you think?
Monday, November 22, 2004
Glutting myself on Jane Austen
I liked Sense and Sensibility so much, I moved right on to Pride and Prejudice.
I liked that one even better -- dear Miss Elizabeth Bennett and proud Mr. Darcy!
Then I rented the movie versions of both books (here and here).
My spouse thinks I'm wacky, but we're having fun imitating Austen-speak:
"My dear Mr. -----, Shall we dine at the charming Thai restaurant near East Lake-enshire this evening? The particulars of their meals are quite charming."
"Why, that would be quite splendid, Mrs. -----. I should enjoy partaking the evening meal in your stimulating company. Would you be so kind as to do me the honor of traveling alongside me in my Nissan Sentra?"
I liked that one even better -- dear Miss Elizabeth Bennett and proud Mr. Darcy!
Then I rented the movie versions of both books (here and here).
My spouse thinks I'm wacky, but we're having fun imitating Austen-speak:
"My dear Mr. -----, Shall we dine at the charming Thai restaurant near East Lake-enshire this evening? The particulars of their meals are quite charming."
"Why, that would be quite splendid, Mrs. -----. I should enjoy partaking the evening meal in your stimulating company. Would you be so kind as to do me the honor of traveling alongside me in my Nissan Sentra?"
Friday, November 19, 2004
Daring To Name Names
Remember my previous post on Another Bullshit Night in Suck City? It's a literary memoir about the author's relationship with his alcoholic father.
National Public Radio recently interviewed author Nick Flynn on "Morning Edition." You can hear it here.
Interestingly, the book title that so intrigued me is deemed unspeakable on NPR. They don't say it until the very end and then they say, literally, "Another B.S. night in Suck City." If the book's title is so unspeakable, why even bother discussing it? My spouse said it was just another example of NPR being ridiculously squeamish. I think it's kind of silly of them myself. Like people are going to run screaming from their radio if they hear the word bullshit, especially after hearing the disturbing story of a wretched, homeless alcoholic.
Not that this kind of thing hasn't happened before in other media. The New York Times, for instance, reviewed a play by Suzan-Lori Parks called "Fucking A," but refused to name it. (Here's a Village Voice review documenting the flap.) The Times referred to it as "F----- A". I honestly couldn't figure out what the title was for the longest time ... I knew it was some variation on "Fuck" but the familiar phrase just didn't occur to me. Finally, I was in New York visiting friends and saw an unexpurgated sign advertising the play. "Oooooh! That's what it is!"
And Parks isn't some nobody flinging around profanity for an easy pose, either. She won a Pulitzer for her play "Topdog/Underdog" and wrote a novel, "Getting Mother's Body." I haven't read any of it, but my favorite independent bookstore recommends "Getting Mother's Body," so it's probably pretty good.
Yet the NFL can show Janet Jackson's exposed breast or their similarly tasteless Desperate Housewives promo. (I'm not going to bother detailing these recent flaps; if you haven't heard about them, read about it here.)
I don't worry so much about TV taste scandals. If you don't want to see crude depictions of sexual commodification, here's a news flash: Don't turn on your TV. Shocking as it may seem, you don't have even have to have a TV in your home. Though I wonder how many people realize this.
But literary self-censorship bothers me more. I don't want to live in a world full of profanity, by any means, but come on. This is serious literature here. If it's worth talking about, why not just say the name? Isn't there a common-sense solution here that doesn't smack of big-brotherish prudery?
What's your opinion?
National Public Radio recently interviewed author Nick Flynn on "Morning Edition." You can hear it here.
Interestingly, the book title that so intrigued me is deemed unspeakable on NPR. They don't say it until the very end and then they say, literally, "Another B.S. night in Suck City." If the book's title is so unspeakable, why even bother discussing it? My spouse said it was just another example of NPR being ridiculously squeamish. I think it's kind of silly of them myself. Like people are going to run screaming from their radio if they hear the word bullshit, especially after hearing the disturbing story of a wretched, homeless alcoholic.
Not that this kind of thing hasn't happened before in other media. The New York Times, for instance, reviewed a play by Suzan-Lori Parks called "Fucking A," but refused to name it. (Here's a Village Voice review documenting the flap.) The Times referred to it as "F----- A". I honestly couldn't figure out what the title was for the longest time ... I knew it was some variation on "Fuck" but the familiar phrase just didn't occur to me. Finally, I was in New York visiting friends and saw an unexpurgated sign advertising the play. "Oooooh! That's what it is!"
And Parks isn't some nobody flinging around profanity for an easy pose, either. She won a Pulitzer for her play "Topdog/Underdog" and wrote a novel, "Getting Mother's Body." I haven't read any of it, but my favorite independent bookstore recommends "Getting Mother's Body," so it's probably pretty good.
Yet the NFL can show Janet Jackson's exposed breast or their similarly tasteless Desperate Housewives promo. (I'm not going to bother detailing these recent flaps; if you haven't heard about them, read about it here.)
I don't worry so much about TV taste scandals. If you don't want to see crude depictions of sexual commodification, here's a news flash: Don't turn on your TV. Shocking as it may seem, you don't have even have to have a TV in your home. Though I wonder how many people realize this.
But literary self-censorship bothers me more. I don't want to live in a world full of profanity, by any means, but come on. This is serious literature here. If it's worth talking about, why not just say the name? Isn't there a common-sense solution here that doesn't smack of big-brotherish prudery?
What's your opinion?
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Librarian Humor
Someone on the librarians' email group that I subscribe to put this together. It made me chuckle ...
I must admit, there have been times I’ve had a difficult time keeping a straight face at the reference desk because of off-the-wall questions, but it’s important that one does. It’s a true test of librarian diplomacy to treat each and every question respectfully, even off-the-wall ones.
Weird Questions Asked of Librarians:
"Do you have a list of all the books written in the English language?"
"I was here about three weeks ago looking at a cookbook that cost $39.95. Do you know which one it is?"
"Can you tell me why so many famous Civil War battles were fought on National Park sites?"
"Do you have any books with photographs of dinosaurs?"
"I need a photocopy of Abraham Lincoln's birth certificate."
"Do you have a list of all the books I've ever read?"
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
My favorite books, Part 1
I've been working on a list my favorite books, but it's taking me a lot longer than I thought ... partly to decide what books should be on the list, and partly to describe the books and do them justice.
So here is Part 1 of my favorite books, with more to come at a later date.
Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters
My blog is named in tribute to this wonderful book. See previous post here.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Like Spoon River, Life of Pi uses beautiful writing to tackle the most important issues: What is life and why does it matter? The philosophy is carefully cloaked in an adventure story: A young boy is shipwrecked and must share his life boat with a tiger. A real tiger. I found an excerpt you can read here.
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
The book's characters include teenaged tennis prodigies, recovering alcoholics in South Boston, Quebecois wheelchair assassins and the Prettiest Girl of All Time. Infinite Jest is very long, very difficult, very funny, and very profound. Wallace's writing has a very kind, compassionate quality here that I don't see as much in some of his more recent work.
Collected Poems by T.S. Eliot
I read The Waste Land when I was 16, and it still startles me whenever I go back to it. It's so full of longing and sadness, but it also has a very dignified kind of hope. I've read that Eliot wanted to call this poem "He Do The Police in Different Voices" but Ezra Pound talked him out of it. Thank goodness for friends.
So here is Part 1 of my favorite books, with more to come at a later date.
Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters
My blog is named in tribute to this wonderful book. See previous post here.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Like Spoon River, Life of Pi uses beautiful writing to tackle the most important issues: What is life and why does it matter? The philosophy is carefully cloaked in an adventure story: A young boy is shipwrecked and must share his life boat with a tiger. A real tiger. I found an excerpt you can read here.
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
The book's characters include teenaged tennis prodigies, recovering alcoholics in South Boston, Quebecois wheelchair assassins and the Prettiest Girl of All Time. Infinite Jest is very long, very difficult, very funny, and very profound. Wallace's writing has a very kind, compassionate quality here that I don't see as much in some of his more recent work.
Collected Poems by T.S. Eliot
I read The Waste Land when I was 16, and it still startles me whenever I go back to it. It's so full of longing and sadness, but it also has a very dignified kind of hope. I've read that Eliot wanted to call this poem "He Do The Police in Different Voices" but Ezra Pound talked him out of it. Thank goodness for friends.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Enchanted by Austen
Jane Austen was on the long list of authors I'm embarrassed to say I've never read. (William Faulkner and James Joyce are also sadly on that list.)
Fortunately, Kristin in my book group chose Sense and Sensibility for our last selection. The novel is about two sisters: Elinor, sensitive but practical, caring but cautious; and Marianne, passionate, strong willed, and a real "To thine own self be true" type. Marianne's emotions get her into trouble, while Elinor cautions restraint.
This novel falls into the category of what we used to call in college "the marriage drama," and both these young women are clearly on their way to the altar. But who will win their hands? In the meantime, it's Elinor's Sense vs. Marianne's Sensibility.
What interests me is that the battle is still relevent. Check out this story on a local college's problems with its study abroad program, the problem being the kids can't behave themselves, getting into fistfights and displaying other examples of poor manners. A Marianne of 2004 might join these kids in saying, "I gotta be me!":
Fortunately, Kristin in my book group chose Sense and Sensibility for our last selection. The novel is about two sisters: Elinor, sensitive but practical, caring but cautious; and Marianne, passionate, strong willed, and a real "To thine own self be true" type. Marianne's emotions get her into trouble, while Elinor cautions restraint.
This novel falls into the category of what we used to call in college "the marriage drama," and both these young women are clearly on their way to the altar. But who will win their hands? In the meantime, it's Elinor's Sense vs. Marianne's Sensibility.
What interests me is that the battle is still relevent. Check out this story on a local college's problems with its study abroad program, the problem being the kids can't behave themselves, getting into fistfights and displaying other examples of poor manners. A Marianne of 2004 might join these kids in saying, "I gotta be me!":
Professors say some of the problems overseas come when students have trouble adjusting to a new culture.
"Students have a very strong sense ... that it's important to be natural and true to their feelings," said Andrew Chittick, an associate professor of East Asian humanities at Eckerd.
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Early Voting in Florida
My spouse and I took advantage of early voting yesterday, the Saturday before the election. We had to stand in line for two and a half hours. Afterward, my feet hurt and I was very tired. But I got to cast my ballot for what is the most important presidential race of my lifetime. So it was definitely worth it. (Sorry, but I'm not saying how I voted, you'll have to guess! This blog is nonpartisan.)
The polling place was at one of the two local libraries where I visit frequently. Standing in line for those hours, I got to observe my neighbors. I wondered: For how many was it the first time they had come to this library? The East Lake Community Library is a great library ... They tend to have a lot of the newer books I'm interested in, and the building is homey and the librarians are very friendly.
To help voters pass the time while they waited, the librarians rolled out carts of old magazines. At one point, I looked down the line, and almost everyone was reading! It warmed my heart, it really did.
The polling place was at one of the two local libraries where I visit frequently. Standing in line for those hours, I got to observe my neighbors. I wondered: For how many was it the first time they had come to this library? The East Lake Community Library is a great library ... They tend to have a lot of the newer books I'm interested in, and the building is homey and the librarians are very friendly.
To help voters pass the time while they waited, the librarians rolled out carts of old magazines. At one point, I looked down the line, and almost everyone was reading! It warmed my heart, it really did.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Happy Halloween!
I've been looking for some good Halloween-related reading, but I haven't been able to find much.
I checked out from the library "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," aka the story of the Headless Horseman, but it wasn't quite what I had in mind.
Reading it now as an adult, I can tell that it's supposed to be clever. Ichabod is the pretentious schoolmaster trying to win the hand of the lovely and rich Katrina Van Tassel. But Ichabod's devil-may-care rival Brom Bones triumphs using his country wisdom and the legend of the Horseman.
Maybe Ichabod's fall was an original storyline in the 1800s, but now it seems like just another page in America's long history of anti-intellectualism.
Not that I liked Ichabod, mind you. He clearly just wanted to marry Katrina for her money, the jerk.
Nevertheless, I will give Washington Irving lots of credit for vivid writing. Here's his description of Ichabod:
I checked out from the library "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," aka the story of the Headless Horseman, but it wasn't quite what I had in mind.
Reading it now as an adult, I can tell that it's supposed to be clever. Ichabod is the pretentious schoolmaster trying to win the hand of the lovely and rich Katrina Van Tassel. But Ichabod's devil-may-care rival Brom Bones triumphs using his country wisdom and the legend of the Horseman.
Maybe Ichabod's fall was an original storyline in the 1800s, but now it seems like just another page in America's long history of anti-intellectualism.
Not that I liked Ichabod, mind you. He clearly just wanted to marry Katrina for her money, the jerk.
Nevertheless, I will give Washington Irving lots of credit for vivid writing. Here's his description of Ichabod:
The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.
You can read the whole story for yourself here.
If you know of a good Halloween book or story, post it in the comments or send me an email. (You can use the "Email me" link on the upper right.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)