tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55013216943204614472024-03-05T20:24:57.952-08:00The Book SpyAn exhaustive account of stuff I see people reading on the subway and beyondParker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-86976598916973529972011-11-07T06:52:00.000-08:002011-11-07T06:53:54.397-08:00Spotted: Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhf_tkXiGKgwUIbKcs1b7yY7Rgmc1UM-cYWY2fcsIYb94kcVReeRSJvXNO9pxiopSLdSL8JIUCyxmoVIgXamqfa3dV7z4HUKlhQbd3YZTQwZdE5P51uW6MfsO0ssfTJAOxW4_9fAhgOfeu/s1600/978-0-307-88626-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhf_tkXiGKgwUIbKcs1b7yY7Rgmc1UM-cYWY2fcsIYb94kcVReeRSJvXNO9pxiopSLdSL8JIUCyxmoVIgXamqfa3dV7z4HUKlhQbd3YZTQwZdE5P51uW6MfsO0ssfTJAOxW4_9fAhgOfeu/s320/978-0-307-88626-2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> Q-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>A bobbing head in a fluffy white hat, only occasionally visible above the seething hoards packed into the subterranean clown-car I rode for today's morning commute.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Wasn't there just a thing on NPR about how the NYC subway sucks more than ever?</b> Yes, <a href="http://www.wnyc.org/blogs/wnyc-news-blog/2011/nov/07/subway-riders-worry-could-service-slip-back-bad-old-days/">yes there was</a>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>But don't worry, things haven't gotten that bad...</b> "We take every derailment seriously," assured one MTA official.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>And if you're really into silver linings, overcrowding on the subway just might be the key to counteracting the breakdown of the American Family:</b> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Another shove, Madame, and I'll have to marry you," one passenger was heard to remark.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>But for those who are less-than-eager to enter into matrimony with some random groper... </b>reading remains an option (provided they can find a few inches of space near eye-level and free of human flesh).</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The book in a nutshell:</b> Mindy Kaling's <i><a href="http://thebookspy.blogspot.com/2011/04/spotted-bossypants-by-tina-fey.html">Bossypants</a></i>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Mindy Kaling in a nutshell</b> [via the publisher]: "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the obedient child of immigrant professionals, a timid chubster afraid of her own bike, a Ben Affleck–impersonating Off-Broadway performer and playwright, and, finally, a comedy writer and actress [noted for her work on The Office] prone to starting fights with her friends and coworkers."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>For what it's worth:</b> I've heard first-hand that the book is pretty funny. And at a signing, Ms. Kaling complimented a colleague of mine on her fashionable handbag. So there's that.</span></span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-71345308580991792902011-11-03T08:21:00.000-07:002014-02-28T15:46:11.954-08:00Spotted: Sunny Chandler's Return by Sandra Brown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q_nXcKQRYSbvzbMxjtT68qywefvwhwkPXuJsM904pQDtaJXlq2cSi3nk299elqUTt1cHpg1EkrB6rKQx4NVkM6m4cHVJ4JAHnTFmWvMG17wMqOVyaUcwTkqE_YSZUHblRJmqh2rGYiAK/s1600/978-0-553-10428-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q_nXcKQRYSbvzbMxjtT68qywefvwhwkPXuJsM904pQDtaJXlq2cSi3nk299elqUTt1cHpg1EkrB6rKQx4NVkM6m4cHVJ4JAHnTFmWvMG17wMqOVyaUcwTkqE_YSZUHblRJmqh2rGYiAK/s320/978-0-553-10428-8.jpg" height="320" width="208" /></a></div>
<b>Where:</b> A-train<br />
<b>Who was reading: </b>A young woman with rigid posture and cat scratches on one hand.<br />
<b>To be fair...</b> the scratches could have come from any clawed animal.<br />
<b>In Latham Green, Louisiana we lay our scene </b>[an excerpt from chapter 1]:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Who is she?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Her name is <s></s>Sunny Chandler."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"You know her?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Since third grade."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Really?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Might have been second grade."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"So she grew up here?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Yep."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"Where's she been?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"All your life?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">The first man frowned as he looked down at the second man...</span><br />
<br />
<div>
<b>Criminy! What an opening!</b> Where HAS she been? And why does this mysterious "first man" want to know? Is he attracted to her sexually? The cover art certainly evokes flames of passion. And what about that "second man," he seems to know an awful lot about Sunny Chandler. A suspiciously awful lot. What actually happened in third grade (or possibly second)? And how will first man get his lasso around slippery Sunny, when the secrets that surround her make her harder to pin down than a greased pig?</div>
<div>
<b>Only one way to find out:</b> Read the book! ...Or actually, check to see if they made it into a Lifetime movie yet. </div>
Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-86926301213200755302011-10-27T07:44:00.000-07:002011-10-27T07:52:36.512-07:00Spotted: Chango's Beads and Two-Tone Shoes by William Kennedy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdlMCRqQdKLeStc9SP2Ri12GaeAYMYQXBQCHAJB8LB2c2pEUo9r9p7eQx7HWzjaDkToNgZFpWgbyl3_Ywi1A0U8sXd1hmpXfhDFRx6vHt2OzINZWlbit7B08iyuXW8JBGp0yedb3Eg0yF/s1600/9780670022977H.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdlMCRqQdKLeStc9SP2Ri12GaeAYMYQXBQCHAJB8LB2c2pEUo9r9p7eQx7HWzjaDkToNgZFpWgbyl3_Ywi1A0U8sXd1hmpXfhDFRx6vHt2OzINZWlbit7B08iyuXW8JBGp0yedb3Eg0yF/s320/9780670022977H.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Q-train</span><br />
<div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who was reading: </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A bony brown-haired woman in a brown quilted coat. Her mouth had a pinched look, as though she was holding back a rather sour epithet. Something in "poor taste" no doubt.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speaking of epithets...</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I was tempted to vocalize a few myself at this other random woman who kept creeping into my personal space. I'm used to being caught in a crush, but she had this gargantuan mass of itchy, floaty hair that kept drifting into my face, and dandling against the exposed skin of my wrist. By the end of the ride, I was all acrawl with prickly, imaginary lice.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Licelady wasn't reading. </b>Of course. But if she had been, I assume the book would have been "<i>Of Mice and Mange</i>."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Moving on,</b> <i>Chango's Beads</i>! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Q: </b>Is it just me or does that cover look weirdly tall? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>A:</b> It is not just me, it IS weirdly tall. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5.98 x 9.01in to be exact.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>As in, you must be</b><i><b> this</b></i><b> tall to read.</b> Recommended for ages 18 and up--according to the publisher's website. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Could this be a ploy to lure young readers to the book by infusing it with the heady thrill of that which is forbidden.</b> I'm going to go with yes. Definitely.</span></span></div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-1567779070326131642011-10-19T09:18:00.000-07:002011-10-19T09:21:40.000-07:00Blood Soaked Butterfly: Disturbingly Awesome or Just Disturbing?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_EJulFpxElhhaUtyiLPH4jE0FKhWfmjz-Dlls0XLgU4eARwrdWrZx5_x-PHWPeCGQuVjrisigT3kGow8Mngg6EcEUf3Ugy6OMvavcnCGM4d4pGlHtEX7Bc5-GPuGtSM61_bGLPQdZRNN/s1600/9554790.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_EJulFpxElhhaUtyiLPH4jE0FKhWfmjz-Dlls0XLgU4eARwrdWrZx5_x-PHWPeCGQuVjrisigT3kGow8Mngg6EcEUf3Ugy6OMvavcnCGM4d4pGlHtEX7Bc5-GPuGtSM61_bGLPQdZRNN/s400/9554790.jpeg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DISCUSS.<br />
(more info <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9554790-the-other-life">here</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-83368989844736596302011-10-13T07:38:00.000-07:002011-10-13T10:19:27.666-07:00Well I'll be damned! THE DEVIL IN THE WHITE CITY by Erik Larson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dJq4I2dIR46eYayE6EJ6IMugIYgRdjnEmt6jJLxmQgAHQ3WInt-jHXj3xu1QNqiCJvLzlFbnyo1JOkG2wolJnCfmEh37XcZE3a41TNACRo28w4xiW_VDwZpbbKZNzEwkb8Nnr5egc38j/s1600/devil+in+the+white+city.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dJq4I2dIR46eYayE6EJ6IMugIYgRdjnEmt6jJLxmQgAHQ3WInt-jHXj3xu1QNqiCJvLzlFbnyo1JOkG2wolJnCfmEh37XcZE3a41TNACRo28w4xiW_VDwZpbbKZNzEwkb8Nnr5egc38j/s320/devil+in+the+white+city.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Subtitle: </b>Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>You mean the </b><a href="http://www.oregoncountryfair.org/about_ocf.php"><b>Oregon Country Fair</b></a><b>?</b> No. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Burning Man?</b> No. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The 1893 World's Fair in Chicago?</b> That's the one!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> A-train.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>A massively tall woman with her hair in a bun sprouting tendrils like a potato too long in the drawer. She had on a 3/4 sleeve jacket (annoying!) and the sort of ankle-boots one wears when one is an elf going on a quest to a gallery opening on the West side of Bushwick.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Murder: </b>The book tells the story serial killer Dr. H.H. Holmes, who used the World's Fair to lure victims to their death in his "World's Fair Hotel," affectionately nicknamed, the "Murder Castle." Instead of the premium channels and in-room jacuzzi tubs commonly found in today's upscale lodgings, Holmes outfitted his hotel with a gas chamber, dissection table and crematorium to dispose of the bodies. Skeletons were sold for a tidy profit to the medical community. </span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Magic:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Not sure where magic comes in, but here's a little-known publishing secret: stuff on the cover doesn't always have to make sense. </span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Madness:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some people thought Holmes was a little unbalanced. And s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">urprisingly, not all of his guests were 100% on board with giving their lives up to (mad) science. So things got a little dicey down Murder Castle Way.</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did I mention t</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>his is based on a true story? </b>No? Well it is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Anyway, good luck getting to sleep tonight. </b>And should you indeed succumb to the sandman's lullaby, I ought to mention that<b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">the ghost of</span> </b>Dr. Holmes will be happy to give you a wake-up call....</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-27389819352753727312011-10-06T09:45:00.000-07:002011-10-06T09:50:00.466-07:00Spotted: Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e9/Tollthehounds.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e9/Tollthehounds.jpeg" width="208" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> Q-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Digital reader: </b>Kindle</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>A beer-bellied man in an aqua dress shirt. His nails were whittled practically to the bone, and wedged into fleshy little recesses atop noticeably plump fingers. He had the right amount of scruff on his face, but it was more haphazard than sexy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Has anyone else noticed how a bunch of cool shit seems to be coming out of Canada lately?</b> Author Steven Erikson is from Canada too. I was amused that the book's write-up on Wikipedia links to an article explaining the concept of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian">Canada</a>: "a North American country consisting of ten provinces and 3 territories..." Helpful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toll_the_Hounds">wiki</a> also features a totally killer book synopsis</b>, explaining just a fraction short of nothing:</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Dire portents plague his nights and haunt the city's streets like fiends of shadow. Assassins skulk in alleyways but it seems the hunters have become the hunted. Hidden hands pluck the strings of tyranny like a fell chorus. Strangers have arrived, and while the bards sing their tragic tales, somewhere in the distance can be heard the baying of hounds. All is palpably not well."</span></blockquote><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OooOOooo, Spooky! </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And since this is book 8 in an epic fantasy series, you only have to read 7 other novels before you yourself can palpate the unwellness.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-56990423294633156392011-10-04T09:54:00.000-07:002011-10-04T14:42:38.065-07:00Real-life MOCKINGJAY Occupies Wall Street<a href="http://www.myhungergames.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/MockingjayUS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.myhungergames.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/MockingjayUS.jpg" /></a><b>Where:</b> A-train<br />
<b>Who was reading: </b>A large man in a sweeping black coat/cloak(?) sure to fire the envy of many a Neil Gaiman fan. From his mandible sprouted a rambling bramble-bush of beard and from his cranium, dyed black hair hung in rebellious waves.<br />
<b>Unsurprisingly for such a wild-haired gent,</b> he boarded the train near the "Occupy Wall Street" encampment.<br />
<b>Suzanne Collins's Capitol vs. Wall Street Capital-ism:</b><br />
<b></b><b><i>The Capitol </i></b>forces 24 children to engage in a fight to the death on live television each year. Viewing is mandatory, and serves as a tool to repress popular revolt.<br />
<b><i>Capitalism</i></b> causes thousands to die of diseases that are easily preventable, and starvation where food is abundant, by allowing essential resources to concentrate in the hands of a few, while providing inadequate side-payments and/or social safety nets to support those in need.<br />
<b>Capitol is worse. Clearly. </b>All those Hunger Games viewers should be reading a book—<i>Lord of the Flies</i>, say—instead of zoning out in front of the idiot box.<br />
<b>Violent books > Violent television. </b>Always.Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-10619704740467157942011-09-30T07:24:00.000-07:002011-09-30T07:27:15.153-07:00This train is headed... TO THE LIGHTHOUSE by Virginia Woolf<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSJlUZguUQEnMUR4tvlVpMUmS8CXAWDzfNIdbSdPA_FeJ95SG22wdTZJHkUgTXdQYrZFUgUztIZFYPKqCEzYCtnlPz0adJw1zaHADm_9q3TPqDpMq8WCEk7VFQzFa8q_oP1YigXbfTumc/s1600/175px-ToTheLighthouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDSJlUZguUQEnMUR4tvlVpMUmS8CXAWDzfNIdbSdPA_FeJ95SG22wdTZJHkUgTXdQYrZFUgUztIZFYPKqCEzYCtnlPz0adJw1zaHADm_9q3TPqDpMq8WCEk7VFQzFa8q_oP1YigXbfTumc/s1600/175px-ToTheLighthouse.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover of the 1st edition</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>Where:</b> B/Q platform. Soon after I spotted this reader, she boarded a briskly running B-train while I was left waiting for the Q to saunter into the station 10 minutes late like a stoned highschooler.<br />
<b>Who was reading: </b>A tall blonde with short floaty layers of hair that drifted around as though touched by an errant sea breeze. Of course any current in the air would have come from deep within the subway tunnels, so less "sea-breeze" than sewer's sigh.<br />
<b>Invisible breeze aside, what about her really blew you away? </b>She toted a tote-bag emblazoned with an artist's rendering of the storefront of Shakespeare & Co. booksellers.<br />
<b>Did she really? </b>Totes.<br />
<b>But isn't this supposed to be a post about a book? </b>Why yes, yes it is.<br />
<b>So, Fun Fact: </b>This introspective tour de force by Virginia Woolf <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">stole 15th place</span></b> on Modern Library's list of the <a href="http://www.modernlibrary.com/top-100/100-best-novels/">100 Best Novels</a>, though it only ranked 48th on the companion list selected by readers.<br />
<b>3 books readers ranked higher: </b><i>Gone with the Wind</i> by Margaret Mitchell,<b> </b><i>Battlefield Earth</i> by L. Ron. Hubbard, <i>The Catcher in the Rye</i> by J.D. Salinger.<br />
<b>And that's why... </b>we have boards of educated persons to tell us what's good.Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-25663869007893642462011-09-29T09:24:00.000-07:002011-09-29T16:13:09.401-07:00Spotted: Memories, Dreams, Reflections by C.G. Jung and Aniella Jaffe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObUKzrq3v3LQJlFWJlNZrmlKoSu5034QiowawkUCfat48c0wxZiI5a2EaUyvAAihjysM4ig9GnPZpQzBa6OEtmo0Fj8fnx9H02iadc5TUQh4sT0mHwjy-meCDyOrxX5nrxUeEdP9UB201/s1600/200px-Mem_dream_reflec_Jung.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObUKzrq3v3LQJlFWJlNZrmlKoSu5034QiowawkUCfat48c0wxZiI5a2EaUyvAAihjysM4ig9GnPZpQzBa6OEtmo0Fj8fnx9H02iadc5TUQh4sT0mHwjy-meCDyOrxX5nrxUeEdP9UB201/s1600/200px-Mem_dream_reflec_Jung.jpg" /></span></a><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> N-train</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who was reading:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Woman in black shorts with white polka dots and a gauzy white ruffle shirt.</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All just for Shoe:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She had these incredible high-heels hewn of rubber and chrome—I'd say they were at least a decimeter if they were an inch. And the heels themselves looked like those rubber prongs that poke out of walls. You know, the things that prevent your doorknob from smashing into the wall repeatedly? Dead useful, those.</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Forever Jung: </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This pseudo-autobiography chronicles the life and work of famed psychologist Carl Gustav Jung, exploring in depth his lifelong study of the human psyche. Co-author Jaffe was hired by Pantheon to write the book, but as it progressed, Jung himself became increasingly invested in the project and ended up writing several chapters. </span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too many contributors in the kitchen? </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Jung passed away, the still-unpublished manuscript was contested on several fronts:</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Jung's family, in the interest of keeping Jung's private life from the public eye, pushed for deletions and other changes. Those involved in its publication demanded massive cuts in the text's length to keep the price of printing down. Jaffé herself was accused of censorship when she began exercising her Jung-appointed authority as editor to reword some of his thoughts on Christianity she deemed too controversial (via </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Memories,_Dreams,_Reflections"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wikipedia</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">).</span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Yikes! </b>And I thought it was a catastrophe when the copyeditor tries to insert too many commas. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But eventually they published the darn thing, and based on a quick survey of Amazon reviews, the book has come to mean a great deal to a great many people--which is great!</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Meaninglessness inhibits fullness of life and is therefore the equivalent to illness. Meaning makes a great many things endurable--perhaps everything." –C.G. Jung</span></blockquote>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-79848235792540664532011-09-28T07:27:00.000-07:002011-09-28T07:27:34.595-07:00Spotted: Hark! A Vagrant by the inimitable Kate Beaton<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBegOgf66YM2AMxzdmt-R4rY1euog0iLG3GIOUezJbuu2MoTo_btFs-jWLRY2lTrjieYsIGr-XD9kWNxspZ_4pSpozMclfRaMe7NEEi7xnO_bb24Nb5W8K27Py6VhgSQTQcuOjClZ0wQew/s1600/a4d654659368f9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBegOgf66YM2AMxzdmt-R4rY1euog0iLG3GIOUezJbuu2MoTo_btFs-jWLRY2lTrjieYsIGr-XD9kWNxspZ_4pSpozMclfRaMe7NEEi7xnO_bb24Nb5W8K27Py6VhgSQTQcuOjClZ0wQew/s200/a4d654659368f9.jpg" width="187" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> The back room at Korzo Restaurant in Park Slope. Jazz was happening there.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>Some guy. Comic geek, naturally. But what's supercool is that I also saw him at the <i>Hark!</i> release party earlier that night. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>What are the odds...</b> that two people, of their own independent volition, migrate to the same obscure jazz show in Brooklyn from a comic book signing in Soho?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Actually, not that slim.</b> Weird birds flock together, now, don't they?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>For those of you unfamiliar with Kate Beaton...</b> What the heck are you doing reading about some doofy book sighting?! You should be out buying the book, or blissfully </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">drowning yourself i</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">n her <a href="http://harkavagrant.com/">archives</a>! Archives that include such gems as the following:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjtQP9sdygRoqgvIC4nEufbkwI2V0G4Pvp28eGCDTQSN6nXFImyUOf9_hi4U92MFy63YhOdJzFtdsohp6lkXEEcOiDn7e6tJJFaxA_zvzDxUDCEYy9Lt8CLOZ3I9oTNEEDg6FzfWXa1eC/s1600/Screen-shot-2010-01-18-at-6.11.57-AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjtQP9sdygRoqgvIC4nEufbkwI2V0G4Pvp28eGCDTQSN6nXFImyUOf9_hi4U92MFy63YhOdJzFtdsohp6lkXEEcOiDn7e6tJJFaxA_zvzDxUDCEYy9Lt8CLOZ3I9oTNEEDg6FzfWXa1eC/s400/Screen-shot-2010-01-18-at-6.11.57-AM.png" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Hark! A Vagrant</b></i> is a webcomic-turned-book that primarily features historical and/or literary figures (with the occasional David Bowie strip thrown in). Beaton </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">looks at history through the lens of our more modern sensibilities, often to great comic effect.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She plays with context and bends well-known personalities as it suits her, notably in the case of <a href="http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=293">Nancy Drew</a>. Here, she fleshes out the action scenes depicted on the covers of Carolyn Keene's beloved <i>Nancy Drew</i> books, showing what someone who has not read the books might imagine them to depict—assuming, of course, the imaginer is completely insane.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Kate Beaton's is one book I'd like to spy more often.</b> And maybe, just maybe, some self-styled Nancy out there will spy me right back.</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-82618507654156473042011-07-26T07:11:00.000-07:002011-07-26T07:24:24.932-07:00Spotted: Delizia: The Epic History of Italians and their Food by John Dickie<a href="http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/book_images/cvr9780743278072_9780743278072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/book_images/cvr9780743278072_9780743278072.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where: </b>B63 bus from Sunset Park to Park Slope, Brooklyn</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>A wispy sort of brunette with a wilting updo that would have been well suited to one of Jane Austen’s heroines.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Phrenology may have gone the way of the dodo…</b> but for those who actively practice and adhere to the tenets of Rhinopsychology (ie. me, and maybe my mom?)—the bony contours of her schnozz showed unequivocal proof of great personality and intellect.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>A People's History of the United Steaks:</b> <i>Delizia</i> is as much a social history as it is a tale of cuisine, establishing ties between the flavor and character of a people in turmoil and the edible matter with which their teeth, tongues, and esophagi came into most frequent contact over the years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Sunday Times</i> of London called it:</b> "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A book that is as much a feast of horrors as delights...[Dickie's] book is hard to fault: densely researched, enlightening, and consistently moreish."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Includes recipes!</b> Such as the Silvio Berlusconi-inspired "Bunga Burger": an old cut of mutton sandwiched between two hot tamales and advertised relentlessly across all channels of media. It's worth noting that many Italian traditionalists find this particular dish distinctly unappetizing.</span></div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-28231468141776827132011-07-22T13:25:00.000-07:002011-07-22T13:25:29.782-07:00Spotted: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEP4DHsy7zBs_g8MbNQD614-RCFzje0feR-oMgTBEkdhD-vBcn6tFoUEs0IKQXORgZu9xoM5wzuGLuvDKZPUnEwj4t3yLBp7IeXk9NUuq-sagkU3LcFY-tXM-vqdTKBQe3MiAg7LeeLqM/s1600/978-0-7679-0817-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEP4DHsy7zBs_g8MbNQD614-RCFzje0feR-oMgTBEkdhD-vBcn6tFoUEs0IKQXORgZu9xoM5wzuGLuvDKZPUnEwj4t3yLBp7IeXk9NUuq-sagkU3LcFY-tXM-vqdTKBQe3MiAg7LeeLqM/s320/978-0-7679-0817-7.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="211" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> Q-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>An old man whose skin was crinkled and yellowing like an ancient scroll. He wore a hempen button-up patterned with new-agey swirls resembling paramecia, and sweaty coils of graying chest-fur peeked out from the V where the top buttons joined. An arm dangled listlessly across his lap like a sleeping baby.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Why anyone would leave their baby in a petri dish of paisley paramecia...</b> is beyond me. Maybe it toughens up the immune system?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Anyway, that book title seems a little over the top, no?</b> In fact it takes pride of place among the great deceiving titles of our day, a venerable list that includes such varied tomes as <i>A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius</i> and <i>The Neverending Story</i>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>They should have called it "</b><i><b>All the Ways the World Can End</b></i><b>.</b><i><b>"</b></i> That's the major takeaway I got from the book in any case; that life on earth is perilous and accidental—constantly on the brink of collapse—yet at the same time humorous and fascinating. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Especially</b> (and this is the key) when you filter it through the droll voice of Mr. Bill Bryson. That man writes nonfiction like it's a pop song. Catchy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-83813367508006532862011-07-21T07:50:00.000-07:002011-07-21T07:50:34.776-07:00Spotted: Vivas en su Jardín by Dedé Mirabal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://66.147.244.208/~arteyvid/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/vivas_en_su_jardin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://66.147.244.208/~arteyvid/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/vivas_en_su_jardin.jpg" width="207" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where:</span> N-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading: </span>A black woman with excellent posture and a rectangle patterned dress. She was prim and orderly, yet there was a sweetness about her, much like the Malvina Reynolds tune "Little boxes".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Apropos of which,</span> can you guess which of the following bands did not cover that song? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">A. The Shins</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">B. The Decemberists</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">C. Bright Eyes</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">D. Death Cab for Cutie</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">E. Linkin Park</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">First person to answer correctly gets a copy of my new favorite book about the Subway.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Anyway, stumbling back towards the point...</span> the book is an autobiographical account of three sisters known as "las mariposas" who actively opposed the Rafael Leónidas Trujillo dictatorship in the Dominican Republic. Though only one sister lived to tell the tale, the movement of which they were part succeeded in taking down Trujillo's oppressive regime. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">All in all</span>, a gratifying vindication of the "pueblo unido" protest chant.</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-39336142961144425292011-07-20T17:16:00.000-07:002011-07-21T06:28:46.707-07:00Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close—no, not the sweaty, loquacious masses packed into the subway car—a book by Jonathan Safran Foer!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7jyDw5Kc7d8VtOxBmLpdDrPZhh7q9X_6VhVEMx1sjDbIzaawYjKv5eJ52dexzk1OxbRwbIt86jfzSXDXx1UfuVvw6ZW5_ERn5crz9bPrTVoB-c3rM0gSTZryOTU3mvXvdSXMEzwarifg/s1600/El%2526ic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7jyDw5Kc7d8VtOxBmLpdDrPZhh7q9X_6VhVEMx1sjDbIzaawYjKv5eJ52dexzk1OxbRwbIt86jfzSXDXx1UfuVvw6ZW5_ERn5crz9bPrTVoB-c3rM0gSTZryOTU3mvXvdSXMEzwarifg/s1600/El%2526ic.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where</span>: N-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading: </span>A tawny-skinned woman with dirty blond curls cascading over her face like a droopy fern. She wore an attractive dress with scribbles on it, and was a bit plump of face.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"Extremely Cloying and Incredibly False" </b>This is what <i>New York Press </i>reviewer Harry Siegel had to say about Safran Foer's hotly anticipated follow-up to <i>Everything Is Illuminated</i>. Reviewers in general weren't particularly fond of the novel—especially compared to its predecessor.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>But the critics were downright amorous</b> towards the book his wife (Nicole Krauss) published that same year: <i>The History of Love.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Oh to be a fly on the breakfast nook bench in the Safran Foer Krauss house</b> when those reviews started pouring in: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"C'mon Baby, don't be that way, they just resent your creative genius." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Get thee gone, Wench! Don't you have a National Book Award gala to attend, hmmm....? Or perhaps you could go fanny about some press conference with your Edward Lewis Wallant. <i>Tha</i>t always makes you happy."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Funny how in my imagination... </b>Jonathan Safran Foer talks exactly like Stewie from Family Guy. Weird, right?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-90104786231349479432011-07-13T07:10:00.000-07:002011-07-13T07:10:44.493-07:00Spotted: A Feast For Crows (Book IV in A Song of Ice and Fire) by George R. R. Martin<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aOVNDx0hxoQT8ThUv7R127dvHgG1Vj_StrXFlUhWymUtUNlKYo4SRId7NRhTkCFqBjD3vBijqkFC1y8RH_0jDw0WsyuzeFywR8Q2aPiBpuZPbiKGHPgjtlZ7UM-wn4vaXLkIpwh6n3u8/s1600/n29698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aOVNDx0hxoQT8ThUv7R127dvHgG1Vj_StrXFlUhWymUtUNlKYo4SRId7NRhTkCFqBjD3vBijqkFC1y8RH_0jDw0WsyuzeFywR8Q2aPiBpuZPbiKGHPgjtlZ7UM-wn4vaXLkIpwh6n3u8/s320/n29698.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where: </span>N-train<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Digital reading device:</span> A Nook, I believe.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Line from the text used to track down the book title later:</span> “Meribald was a septon without a sept<b>, </b></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">only one step up from a begging brother in the hierarchy of the Faith.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Since you asked...</span> in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Game of Thrones</span> lore, a septon is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>a priest in the Faith of Seven.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And a sept =</span> a temple.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Speaking of George R. R. Marvelous</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">,</span> did anyone go to <a href="http://www.reverbnation.com/c/fr5/artist_415436?eid=A415436_9027050_">this</a>? If so, color me jealous (a deep shade of puce, I think).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading: </span>A balding man in a baggy pinstripe suit. He perched tensely upon the subway bench, long limbs folded close to his body like the wings of a vulture. In fact, his general demeanor was not unvulturelike at all—I could easily picture him roosted atop some lonesome desert snag, watching.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Anyway, like a vulture(?), he was unadorned by notable fripperies,</span> but for a watchband that had snakeskin pattern stamped upon some leather of indeterminate origin—cowskin at best, rat leather at worst, and fruit leather at tastiest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Speaking of which… </span>they should totally make fruit-leather-bound editions of classic books. (Are you listening, Everyman’s Library?) For the first time, readers will find <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Finnegan’s Wake </span>easily digestible. Gluttonous bookies may even finish the likes of Proust’s <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">In Search of Lost Time</span> in just one sitting!<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-56887443575945712452011-07-12T08:09:00.000-07:002011-07-12T08:09:50.331-07:00Spotted: Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman (Adventures of a Curious Character) by Richard Feynman<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtbxdUsCPzNxnB582VKv3dr4Tz9Z4gv0_AT_4QHU0Kf8XlAPiv_sYyCUbQ5iOaK_rMlenUXRR_S3rktJEsFN-bbxJAr_TjH7BZTRv8SNq3RYeDahsSvao4-Vw0g3742YPksSpOvxGDvZY/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtbxdUsCPzNxnB582VKv3dr4Tz9Z4gv0_AT_4QHU0Kf8XlAPiv_sYyCUbQ5iOaK_rMlenUXRR_S3rktJEsFN-bbxJAr_TjH7BZTRv8SNq3RYeDahsSvao4-Vw0g3742YPksSpOvxGDvZY/s320/cover.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where: </span>Q-train<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading: </span>A thin man, probably in his early thirties, wearing a gray t-shirt and slacks that billowed around him like the robes of an ancient Greek scholar or one of the characters from Harry Potter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Opposites a-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">track</span>-t (like a train track, get it? (ugh)):</span> The reader and his girlfriend made an interesting tableau as their outward appearances stood in sharp contrast, yet the two were practically inseparable. Rather than gray swaddling, she was dressed head to toe in clingy garments the color of summer fruits and had eyes like a Disney Princess—wide, saucerous orbs that gazed at him with unveiled affection. His right index finger was constrained by a cast, but its neighboring digits slid up and down her forearm in a caress that lasted from Astoria to Midtown Manhattan, while higher up, her right thumb was occupied in rubbing his bicep. Occasionally they would break apart to point and chuckle over something in the text, but inevitably they were drawn back together like two Simpsonian aliens exchanging long protein strands. Cute.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Another odd pairing:</span> theoretical physics + “engagingly eccentric” and “entertaining” writing.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">But allegedly, </span>this anecdotal autobiography of Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard Feynman has both. Indeed, it “proves once again that it is possible to laugh out loud and scratch your head at the same time (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">NYTBR</span>).”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-91571078510530301912011-06-28T06:43:00.000-07:002011-07-18T06:05:39.664-07:00Spotted: The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLE6nszCyfi1ga5Ju22cUgaXL3Px8EpNF3u9GmAOUSouYrJQgcpaYzpLaeulb3-O5cyHO5UWV9Ia5jbjU8JdLOD_XNTGleQVbe6VY4a1iejmpItGM40A76phnw0M2Fchje9dEirPUvuy5Y/s1600/978-0-385-34366-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLE6nszCyfi1ga5Ju22cUgaXL3Px8EpNF3u9GmAOUSouYrJQgcpaYzpLaeulb3-O5cyHO5UWV9Ia5jbjU8JdLOD_XNTGleQVbe6VY4a1iejmpItGM40A76phnw0M2Fchje9dEirPUvuy5Y/s320/978-0-385-34366-4.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> Metro North Harlem Line</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading?</b> A woman in a narrow business suit sitting straight as a stick of charcoal. Her severe black bouffant resembled Darth Vader's helmet.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The cover font?</b> Loving it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">It's a book about writing.</span> Sort of like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Producers</span> is a musical about making musicals (Actually, sort of like how most musicals seem to be about making musicals). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">But it's not <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">just</span> a book about writing.</span> It's a book about newspapers, in this case an English-language rag out of Rome, that's put together by a rag-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">tag</span> crew of lovably flawed journalists (as if that's even a career anymore). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Which distinguishes it from the vast majority of books about writing/writers,</span> in which the main character comes to the shocking realization that the thing they want to do with their life is write novels, and then in a wacky surprise twist, the reader discovers that the novel he or she has just completed was written by the protagonist. Didn't see that coming.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>In a one-star review,</b><b> Amazon reviewer "a person" demands to know: </b>"What kind of person kills a dog when they lose their job?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>If that's not a selling point for the book... </b>I don't know what is.</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-37237531539402609882011-06-27T11:59:00.000-07:002011-06-27T12:24:28.340-07:00Spotted: The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xxY3dMI9Js94XtnuU2VWYUoWtjEysi-7eVgO1N7XYkX4bm34kqwbRBILq8EsK_1_zkBYc5WG5IN2LvAOTxsH11E8phlZtCbk-EoeX4TT-W8WDHVVeE0F8QQhHwUNai6NnheDkR2qkLT0/s1600/tulip+6a00d83451bcff69e200e54f49bdda8833-640wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xxY3dMI9Js94XtnuU2VWYUoWtjEysi-7eVgO1N7XYkX4bm34kqwbRBILq8EsK_1_zkBYc5WG5IN2LvAOTxsH11E8phlZtCbk-EoeX4TT-W8WDHVVeE0F8QQhHwUNai6NnheDkR2qkLT0/s320/tulip+6a00d83451bcff69e200e54f49bdda8833-640wi.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Whenever I see this author'</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">s name...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> a deep-voiced audiobook narrator with a thick Castilian lisp speaks it in my head: "Alejandrrrro Dumas." See, several years ago I loaded the Spanish audio of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">El Conde de Monte Cristo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> to my ipod for self improvement reasons. And while they say the shuffle mode is impartial, I'll be a son of a gun if track 1 of that audio book didn't come on more often than an Activia ad on the Lifetime channel.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where: </span>Grand Central Terminal</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was readi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">ng</span>: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A stern little man who looked like a functionary from a former Eastern Bloc country. He wore a tight blue business shirt cinched at the neck by a darker blue tie. The resulting pressure gave his shorn head the appearance of an bulging sausage with thin, pink lips.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Plot (Strand #1): </span>A wild mob of dutchmen lynch the Grand Pensionary (which is basically like a leader only more Dutch). Based on true facts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Plot (Strand #2):</span> A young man who's a pretty big deal in the world of competitive gardening gets thrown into jail and turns on his not inconsiderable charm to sweet-talk the jailer's goodlooking daughter into rescuing him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Gradually,</span> the two strands merge, and we come to see how they're related.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">*Now a </span><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.iranian.com/main/files/blogimages/Sans%2520titre.bmp&imgrefurl=http://www.iranian.com/main/blog/darius-kadivar/persian-dubbing-alain-delon-black-tulip-1964&usg=__V7UinvM1NPMjrqCA81bJq5LVPbw=&h=940&w=626&sz=1726&hl=en&start=7&zoom=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=Mv2Zci-5iQsMPM:&tbnh=148&tbnw=99&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dthe%2Bblack%2Btulip%2Bdumas%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26tbm%3Disch&ei=kc4ITsfnF8Pr0gGSkZXRCw"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">major motion picture!</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> *</span>circa 1964.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-40176780218088901112011-06-16T07:10:00.000-07:002011-06-16T07:12:34.174-07:00Spotted: The Redbreast by Jo Nesbo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfmgT-JykrBKKOac9lj_0mBcylfTl7A-OmPBPVPqq2GapMVWfTwpBHneVnBjYqL6444vdykMlkwoi81Akt9L0iVxHyHOXt0YuTweW_9Wb1KFh778MqjTX1mRxNv6Z_vlAwwWWUzzX9y1n/s1600/redbreast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfmgT-JykrBKKOac9lj_0mBcylfTl7A-OmPBPVPqq2GapMVWfTwpBHneVnBjYqL6444vdykMlkwoi81Akt9L0iVxHyHOXt0YuTweW_9Wb1KFh778MqjTX1mRxNv6Z_vlAwwWWUzzX9y1n/s1600/redbreast.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On a Scale of 1 to Striking, this cover is:</b> quite.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And the innards?</span> Likely just as striking.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Redbreast</span> has earned quite a bit of praise since its publication in 'Ought 4 and was honored with the Glass Key award for the best Nordic crime novel. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">NYT Book Review</span> called it "An elegant and complex thriller."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">In case you were wondering...</span> It's about a recovering alcoholic detective whose investigative forays into Neo-nazi subculture shed light on WWII-era Nazi activity in Norway.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where:</b> Q-train</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Who was reading: </b>Nobody. The book was affixed with yellow twine to a clownishly large piece of rolling luggage. A lot of other things were affixed too, with the book nesting comfortably among several bulbously bulging Whole Foods totes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>But who was toting those totes?</b> <b>Was it man, woman or beast? </b>Man. It was all man. He was tall and manly and stuff, wearing all black clothing made out of this lightweight material that was probably designed to dry quickly on account of extreme exposure to masculine musk. And then he had on these weird yellow shades, which weren't that cool really, but they made you <i>think</i>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Think? Think of what?</b> Of the many wonderful bird books that roost oh so pleasantly in my brain, chirping melodically to one another. Ka-KA! Now to put them in order.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Top 5 bird books that immediately come to mind:</b></span><br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest</span> by Ken Kesey</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Catherine, Called Birdy</span> by Karen Cushman</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">To Kill a Mockingbird</span> by Harper Lee</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Birds of America</span> by Lorrie Moore</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Bird By Bird</span> by Anne Lamott</span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Could </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Redbreast </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">be book the sixth?</span> Only time will tell . . . among other things (like whether it's any good).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-22406568921570411552011-06-15T04:39:00.000-07:002011-06-15T07:23:37.585-07:00The Fruit of All Fears: Under the Dome by Stephen King<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuaCSwkSpVPOpucoaHi8dZ75JBNxPxrlJ2kN5J3Y6yjB-cugUSYLLPlBhyphenhyphenUuZ3b3HmlP8YgBMbOvihyphenhyphenvSs_jkkr2II45lYeBXiU1Ap-WaYO7u6kQ-SE1zgKZRfp3Fzj3PjD2MER6ffnSm/s1600/6320534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuaCSwkSpVPOpucoaHi8dZ75JBNxPxrlJ2kN5J3Y6yjB-cugUSYLLPlBhyphenhyphenUuZ3b3HmlP8YgBMbOvihyphenhyphenvSs_jkkr2II45lYeBXiU1Ap-WaYO7u6kQ-SE1zgKZRfp3Fzj3PjD2MER6ffnSm/s320/6320534.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where: </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Q-train</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who was reading: </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A young African American woman with hair ironed smooth and hot pink nail polish smudged up all rough. </span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe this was a skin condition?</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> But there were little raised semi-spheres all along her neck and jawline looking like nothing so much as goosebumps.</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oooo Goosebumps—Let's talk about that some more!</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Did anyone else read the Goosebumps book about the kid with the camera that took pictures of terrible accidents that were just about to happen? </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://goosebumps.wikia.com/wiki/Say_Cheese_and_Die!">Say Cheese and Die</a></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> it was called. I didn't sleep for a fortnight after reading it.</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, there was plenty to be horrified about on that train car.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Across the aisle, a crazed man had extracted a very rotten banana from his very overstuffed shopping bag and was consuming it bite by gloopy bite in tandem with spoonsful of peanut butter and margarine. </span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I couldn't believe it! (wasn't butter)</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. No offense to Stephen and no offense to those who savor the flavor of rot, but I don't think the king of horror himself could have conceived a fruit more sinister and/or vile.</span>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-18773678973388823192011-05-25T09:54:00.000-07:002011-05-25T09:54:57.761-07:00Poring over POUR YOUR HEART INTO IT: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxC-Rb8e3eXAZdGz_uZ7_B6cr1mJ9nOZVg2wfwxN6_dWAcEgBx4azc8zuJ5R1Ce3syN0ceUcLJs5VLB8llbixio8aZXA3fGkty9jNOuDF6eiGH1uiSNZ0Ho3Ax-LVnY44txeuAjPMJb0KA/s1600/%257BBE790DA7-B153-461C-868A-7FF20B45A1D3%257DImg100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxC-Rb8e3eXAZdGz_uZ7_B6cr1mJ9nOZVg2wfwxN6_dWAcEgBx4azc8zuJ5R1Ce3syN0ceUcLJs5VLB8llbixio8aZXA3fGkty9jNOuDF6eiGH1uiSNZ0Ho3Ax-LVnY44txeuAjPMJb0KA/s320/%257BBE790DA7-B153-461C-868A-7FF20B45A1D3%257DImg100.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">By:</span> Howard Schultz and Dori Jones Yang</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where:</span> N-train</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading:</span> A mild-mannered Sara Crewe type with a tidy blue pea coat, bottle green galoshes crossed daintily at the ankles, and the face of a porcelain doll.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Printed on the book was:</span> Property of the Hoboken Public Library.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Property, eh? </span>I remember back <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">before</span> there was property (this is a bald-faced lie), before the enclosure movement, when words sprang forth unhindered like wild blackberries in the common fields. Their bounty was free to be enjoyed by lowly peasants and feudal lords alike.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Then the capitalists came...</span> and after they had slain all <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diggers"><span id="goog_1898976718"></span>the diggers</a>, they appropriated the common land for themselves, and bound it with fences so that it was accessible only to a privileged few. But it didn’t end with land. Oh no. Suddenly all our best resources had to be divvied up into wee packages, stamped as commercial goods and sold for a hefty premium. Bread was portioned into slices (which was actually a pretty good idea in retrospect…), words were forced into constrictive narrative arcs under the savage whips of editors, then sold in inky little rectangles called “books”, and vast urns of coffee were emptied into scores of identical cardboard cups that would go on to sell for upwards of 4 bucks a pop at Starbucks.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Starbucks? Hey—that’s what this book is about! </span>Cool, right? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">To learn more</span> about how the privileged few converted the blood, sweat and tears of working men and women into sparkly gold coins, read <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time</span>.</span></span></div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-12127051709010323232011-05-23T08:00:00.000-07:002011-05-23T08:00:29.356-07:00Spotted: Stolen Lives: 20 Years in a Desert Jail by Malika Oufkir and Michele Fitoussi<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.oprah.com/images/bookfinder/jackets/obc-malika-oufkir-284xFall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.oprah.com/images/bookfinder/jackets/obc-malika-oufkir-284xFall.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Not to be confused with:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stollen">Stollen Loaves</a>: 20 Years in a Dessert Jail</span> which is kind of an adaptation of Hansel and Gretel only longer and, ultimately, fatter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where:</span> N-train</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Who was reading: </span>A young woman with dark circles under her eyes and a harried look about her. The flared cuffs of her jeans tumbled like heavy drapes over silver sneakers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Barnes and Noble sez: </span>“<span style="color: black;">On August 15th, 1972, Malika Oufkir was probably the most privileged teenager in all Morocco. The eldest daughter of King Hassan II's top aide, she had <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">been raised in the opulent seclusion of the monarch's harem. But within 24 hours, her father would be tried and summarily executed for treason, and she and her entire family would be arrested and imprisoned in a remote desert penal colony. For the next 20 years, her accommodations would only grow worse.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, so I’m sure what happened to the author was really bad and all, but… </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It sort of bothers me that this particular story garnered so much attention simply because it happened to a child of the leisure class. Alright, it </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">really</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> bothers me. Must a tale of injustice involve rich pretty people before we the book-buying public deign to care? And at the end of the day, what do we take away from such a sensationalistic story? It’s an isolated incident that sucked for a handful of people, but it doesn’t have wide-ranging implications for society and it doesn’t call attention to any particular wrong in need of being righted.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you want to hear about how prisons suck, why not read </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span id="goog_460734257"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_460734260"><span id="goog_460734261"></span>T</a></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_460734260">he New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"> </a></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">by Michelle Alexand</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">er?</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Did you know that more black men are currently incarcerated in America than were enslaved in 1850, before the Civil War began? That’s fucked up. And it’s happening right now on a large scale. It’s also an issue we can do something about. And to me, that makes Ms. Alexander's book 100 times more worthy of being read than Ms Oufkir’s. It doesn’t just give the reader a fleeting sense of smug good samaritanship—that vacuous “I just concentrated on a serious issue” feeling you occasionally get when you listen to NPR. It gives them the opportunity to stand up for something and potentially make a difference.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Also?</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It's worth noting that Malika Oufkir’s father did stage a coup and try to kill the king. Of course his family didn’t deserve to be punished, and in my opinion, the death penalty is always unethical, but it’s not like he was 100% innocent.</span></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-61356659870271978742011-05-19T07:17:00.000-07:002011-06-28T07:56:12.258-07:00Q is for Queasy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transitblogger.com/pictures/QTrain3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://www.transitblogger.com/pictures/QTrain3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prior to hopping on the train this morning, I purchased an iced coffee at a local café, thinking it would wake me up for work. Instead, the chilled liquid immediately started roiling like acid sludge in my belly, threatening to come up in waves. And the jerky movements of the train weren’t helping any. It was dreadful. More dreadful still, there was no place to dispose of my beverage, so I had to hold the sweating plastic vessel for the entire ride watching it’s contents slosh around in a gross imitation of what was happening in my stomach.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I’m an able-bodied person still in the bloom of youth, so most days I’m happy to stand up and let others take what seats are available. But today it was my greatest wish to sit calmly, set the coffee cup down between my knees and let the acid tides recede. Imagine my delight, then, when the train started to slow at Atlantic/Pacific, and the person right in front of me (a middle-aged man rocking Men’s Warehouse) lifted his backpack as if preparing to get up. Oh frabjous day! The doors slid open, and… and... he just sat there. False alarm. I sighed in resignation while the acid sludge tossed more angrily than before.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.examiner.com/images/blog/wysiwyg/image/WutheringHeightsTwilightCoverX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.examiner.com/images/blog/wysiwyg/image/WutheringHeightsTwilightCoverX.jpg" width="132" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The man picked up a book that had been sitting off to the side, but it was nothing interesting, some workbook-y paperback textbook like “Microeconomics for Manchildren” or what have you. In cases like this where the reader matches the book too closely I often lose interest. It would have been more intriguing if he’d been reading that re<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">vamp</span>ed Bella and Edward edition of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Wuthering Heights</span>, for example. Anyway, the train once more started to slow, and this time, the man not only picked up his backpack, he closed the book with what I perceived to be an air of finality and slipped it inside, zippering the pocket behind it. Was ever there a surer sign of getting off? He held the pack on his lap and looked purposefully at the door, while I looked purposefully at him. The train stopped in a series of shuddering jolts, each one heightening my anticipation of the upcoming seat vacancy. But when the full stop came, the man remained firmly rooted to the bench. Wtf? I think Lewis Carroll would agree that this was not frabjous at all! He went through this same routine at every single stop as the train rumbled and jerked its way over the Manhattan Bridge and up towards Midtown. By the time the he got up to leave, I was two stops from work and thoroughly nauseated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now at first glance it might seem like this is a rambling string of complaints about nausea and public transportation etiquette—but it’s not. This is a rambling string of complaints about motion sickness: the feeling you get on a moving train when no one is reading. Because the very worst part of this morning’s commute—worse than the coffee and the standing and the hopes dashed to smithereens over and over again—was the fact that aside from Mr. Backpack, the train was scarily devoid of books and readers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would have been reading, if only I had a seat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-89892961570962088722011-05-18T10:28:00.000-07:002011-05-18T10:28:14.037-07:00Why Books Make Us Mad: a top 10 list (part 2)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday we examined a vitriolic comment from this very blog and discussed some of the top reasons why books can cause their readers to experience unpleasant emotions. And you can bet your best bonnet that Ayn Rand was mentioned. Today, we continue that list, with less Rand but more rant.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. It's not nearly as funny as it thinks it is:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> One of the most grating books I've ever picked up was Christopher Moore's </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lamb</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, a light-hearted retelling of Jesus' life that relies almost entirely on hackneyed, toothless jokes. I didn't mind Moore's irreverent approach to religion. What got under my skin was the humor, which couldn't have been safer or more predictable. Ho ho, someone said "wanker"! Oh man, they did the thing where a character is like "No WAY will I ever do X. Not in this life, buddy." And then in the next scene they're TOTALLY DOING X. "The King of Queens" tries harder than this.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. It tries way too hard to impress you with smarts:</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the author keeps name-checking philosophers and Great Canonical Writers and using five-dollar words when there's no need. That's usually a sign that there's nothing else there. A variation of this is when the author tries to go all brainy-punk and combines coarse vernacular with academic language, so we have "fucking faggot-ass reconstructivists" and "Carolingian as shit." Nobody talks like this in real life.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. It’s like everything else:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “So, yeah… I’m a white dude living in Brooklyn. I have this novel and it’s sort of about isolation and stuff. Stuff like yearning. And how women don’t understand me. In Brooklyn.” A handful of disaffected musings about the banalities of day-to-day life in an urban setting do not the next </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ulyss</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">es</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> make. Generally speaking, this kind of stuff makes the reader sleepy, not angry. But it CAN make the reader angry, IF…</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. It’s totally overrated:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chabonathan Safran Auster’s latest unreliably-narrated nonsequential memoir in verse is an unputdownable tour de force of wry, but shockingly honest, compellingness.”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">—The Adulation Press</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not entirely certain what it’s about, but I instinctively dislike this book already. Problem is, my friends are reading it, so now I have to too if I want to be able to participate in conversations with them. Of course, the added element of duress is doing nothing to alleviate my previously existing disinclination to like, but whatever, I’ll just read it really fast and get over—hey wait a minute, is this a new narrator or just some weird drug sequence? Now I’m confused. And I feel like a failure. Curse you, book! </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> did this to me. Curse you and your sequels. And your sequels’ sequels! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. It doesn't believe in anything:</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the problems with "South Park" is that its creators will wade into some hot-button debate, make fun of everyone and their strong feelings, and then back out, leaving a mouthpiece character like Stan to say, in effect, "You're all giant babies and the only intelligent response to this problem is to not care about it." Caring about things doesn't make people weak or foolish; it just makes them people. This is less a problem with books, since writing a book is a big pain-in-the-ass undertaking and you probably won't try it if you don't actually have something to say, but it pops up sometimes in prankish, intellectually posturing works like those of Mark Leyner or Tao Lin. (No offense...)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, that wraps up our list. Once again, thanks to my DC correspondent for his contributions, and I encourage one and all to chime in with quibbles of their own. In closing I'd like to say that while I may be critical from time to time (and more so than usual in this post) I love </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">all</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> books--especially the ones that make me mad.</span></div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5501321694320461447.post-22346178680847648152011-05-17T05:13:00.000-07:002011-05-17T05:13:02.465-07:00Why Books Make Us Mad: a top-10 list (part 1)<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">A few weeks ago, an anonymous commenter wrote the following in response to a blog post I had written about Ellen Raskin:</span></div><blockquote><a href="http://cloudpals.com/IMAGE/angry.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cloudpals.com/IMAGE/angry.gif" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“i would never have know about Raskin of i didn't have a book report of "The Westing Game" bitch!!! fuck her!!!” [sic]</span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was personally taken aback by this expression of vitriol, and for a moment, considered playing censor and removing the comment. But then I got to thinking: while it’s in poor taste to attack an author because you dislike what they have written, anger is a perfectly valid reaction to a text. I can recall a few times when books have made me really and truly livid, as I’m sure most of us can if we rack our brains.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So what is it about books that can get people so steamed? Here are a few ideas pertaining to fiction specifically.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">1. Reading Under Duress:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> It is a scientific fact that necessity diminishes enjoyment. Ancient cavemen did not go hiking and fishing for fun as we do today, they were obligated to do these things for survival and I’m sure they hated every minute of it. It’s the same with books. When I meet someone who loathes Dickens, it usually turns out that they had to read him in school—not unlike our angry commenter. Because the commenter read this perfectly delightful book in the context of a school assignment, he/she was predisposed to see it as a burden rather than a source of glee. As such, the reader probably spent the entire book nursing a steadily growing resentment rather than learning something new or allowing him/herself to get swept up in the plot.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">2. The characters are unlikable/unrelatable.</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Nothing draws the ire of readers like bad characters, but characters can suck in more ways than one. Some characters are boring and whiney and you want to see them fail; some are underdeveloped and shallow, and who cares?; some are downright dastardly and you know that their success will occasion suffering for others. Now don’t get me wrong, evil characters can be fun and interesting, but they’re fun and interesting largely because of how much you hate them. A friend of mine claims that when she read <i>The Eustace Diamonds</i> by Anthony Trollope, the deceitful ways of its eponymous anti-heroine actually caused her to throw the book across the room—this is anger at its most fun.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcaz3Sw6n8U-Nilcb4xRukVg6DUuhd58zqU-pgUpvH2bRuh6-fpSh9nBus1epeWig-pvXy-ejhbgbPESdCcArEz8ZeutyjEQNvvBa_CV09Js-9YFcrsC_Ja7qI6Rl21R85fiNbwzXoBA/s400/kenneth+anger+anger1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcaz3Sw6n8U-Nilcb4xRukVg6DUuhd58zqU-pgUpvH2bRuh6-fpSh9nBus1epeWig-pvXy-ejhbgbPESdCcArEz8ZeutyjEQNvvBa_CV09Js-9YFcrsC_Ja7qI6Rl21R85fiNbwzXoBA/s320/kenneth+anger+anger1.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenneth "Anger" Anger: reader and author</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">People hate bland characters, too, but it’s not as enjoyable as with villains. The blands tend to leave you seething quietly, rather than raging around breaking anything that isn’t nailed down. Sometimes you don’t even know how much you dislike a boring character until you meet someone else who’s read the book and the two of you tease it out in conversation.</span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">3. The characters are likable, but they constantly make terrible decisions:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> No! Don’t open that spooky-looking door! Remember the warning from the old crone? “Venture not past shadow’d gate?”—Wait, no. NOoooooooo!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> It bears mentioning that likable characters who make bad decisions often become unlikable characters as the book progresses.</span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">4. It flattens entire categories of people:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> All the men are smug dicks, or all the women are clingy psycho bitches. Every poor person is either venal and resentful or a dirt-smudged saint. Every black person is hip and easygoing, or else they're an Angry Black Person with right on their side. I was going to try and keep this balanced, but let's be real here: most of the time when this flattening happens, it's in a book written by a white dude, and it's affecting a category of person other than white dudes. White straight dudes. Women get it worst in most of the fiction I read, but I'm not sure that means they have it empirically worst; it may just be that authors (=bookish white straight dudes) spend more time brooding over loving/hating women than any particular racial or ethnic or sexual minority.</span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">5. The author is clearly using fiction to manipulate people into adopting their own evil worldview:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I’m sure Ayn Rand isn’t the only author who does this, but no one else immediately comes to mind.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Well that's 5 points down, and 5 more to come tomorrow when this little haterade cocktail hour recommences. In the meantime, a special thank you to my DC correspondent for collaborating on the list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Parker Twainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12976200194050501635noreply@blogger.com2