I am now a couple of days late reading my March 23 issues of The New Yorker. Chief on the list of roadblocks is my venture into the world of concentric contact lenses. I’ve never worn contact lenses. I tried standard lenses several years ago but the narrow range of focus annoyed me. Or I didn’t have enough patience to get used to them. So what do I try next? I try lenses with concentric rings of 2 different focal lengths, which my brain must now magically decipher and learn how to use. And I know, viscerally as well as intellectually, that it can. I had a personal demonstration, about 10 years ago, of the brain’s penchant for adjusting your vision to what it thinks you should be seeing. And this didn’t involved controlled substances.
I was swimming in a pool with my daughter. Her swim goggles were blue, mine gray. I tried hers for a couple of minutes, I can’t remember why. When I came out of the pool and took them off the world was orange for a flashing slice of a second. It was a revelation. Boom, everything’s in shades of orange and then it quickly fades to the right colors. It hit me almost as quickly that my brain color-corrected the signal it was receiving from my eyes. What a piece of work is man!
So each night when I go home, I switch to the contacts and wear them for several hours. Can’t do it at work, because a) I’m not used to them yet and 2) they’re made for medium and long distance, not reading. (Last night I had a phone call that require me to view an email. I blew the words up to practically an inch high and leaned way back) My Dr. says when he finishes all his adjustments; I should have a focal range from computer distance, a little past arms length, to “far” distance. I think he views this as a challenge as he knows I am picky about focus and focal length. I’m a television producer. Anyway, I’m only on day 4, I still have a long way to go.
In the meanwhile, I’ve received and have begun reading the March 30 issue. I began, at lunch one day, with the first full length article in the issue, a mildly entertaining David Sedaris piece. And noticed that it’s followed by a Woody Allen. That’s when I knew I had to stop and take care March 23.
I guess the highlight of the March 23 issue is the Paul Goldberg “introduction” to the new ball stadiums in NY. The Sky Line gives an engaging overview each stadiums place in history, as well their respective physical placement in their neighborhoods. Had I only seen the pictures, I’d have chosen the new Yankee Stadium as the more pleasing of the two. Now, having read the article, that impression is cemented. One of the Yankee Stadium advantages is it’s incorporation into the surrounding neighbor hood. The article refers to several big cylinder stadiums, of which the Met Stadium was on, that were constructed in the 60s and 70s. I was very familiar with Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers stadium and know the difference between wading across a seemingly boundless concrete field to reach the stadium and walking through a neighborhood to get there. I prefer the latter. And besides, the Mets Stadium’s (Citi-Stadium) main entrance is plain ugly.
It is interesting to me that the following issue, March 30, bears cover art featuring both stadiums.
The other satisfying read of this issue was the Letter From Moscow: The Accused, by Keith Gessen. Keith tells a detail story of the trial of the men charged with murdering Russian Journalist Anna Politkovskaya. Gessen begins his story of covering this Moscow trial in the Starbucks across the street from the courthouse, having been refused entrance to day one of the proceedings. He then weaves a tale of Chechens and mobsters and human-rights lawyers that points us first in one direction then brings around to another, much like the jury was led during the trial. Along the way we get to know just enough about the major characters, the accused brothers, their mob related associates, the victim’s relatives, the attorneys, and the prosectution to have a meaningful glimpse into their world. Yes, I named the baseball stadium story as the highlight of this issue, because it made me smile, but this was by far the deepest journey.
I want to say more about Tessa Hadley’s fiction, “She’s The One”, but either I didn’t quite get it or it simply ended flat for me. Which is bothersome, because I enjoyed the reading of it. I liked the characters. I felt them as well developed, at least the 2 primarys. There was a minor character who may have been a catalyst, but she was brought in so ephemerally that I didn’t experience her as a presence. At least not as a presence of enough note to be central to the story’s conclusion. As I write this, mind you w/o any formal writing criticism experience or training, I feel that the ending was a cheap deux-ex-machina pulled out of a hat to conclude the story.
As for other parts of this issue…I agree with Henrik Hertzberg about those pesky republicans decrying the needed spending we’re facing and he’s made me think more about the tax holiday concept. I never even considered reading the Madoff article and quit Burris less than a third of the way, having decided I didn’t care enough to continue reading about him.
It just dawned on me that any semblance of a same-day-each-week posting is screwed for the spring season as work had me traveling regularly. Yeah, yeah, I could read it online, but I like the act of holding the magazine and changing the pages. I read enough other stuff online.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
March 16 Issue
I’ve got to bitch a little right up front. Not seriously bitch, more of a whinny annoyed-the-world-doesn’t-do-what-I-want-it-to bitch.
My first couple of issues came on a Tuesday. So here I am expecting another Tuesday delivery and – nope, not this time. This time, I am going out of town on business, my New Yorker has not gotten here, and I will miss half a week of reading time. Damn!
But, I got over it. Enough so to read 3 and ½ articles, all the cartoons, and a couple Talk Of The Town pieces.
Along the way, I met a New Yorker reader in line at Chipotle. She had this week’s, being Wednesday I still had last week’s. Why did she get hers before me? Double damn! We had a good chat about what we gravitate to in the NYer. For instance she skipped March 16 because she doesn’t like the style issue. Oh, this is the style issue? I guess Michelle O on the cover in 3 outfits should have been a clue. Or the red lettered header on the contents page that says Style issue. Observant, ain’t I?
Regardless, I found plenty to read, while admittedly over half of the 3 ½ articles I read were about movies.
I truly enjoyed the 2007 movie Michael Clayton. But I didn’t remember the director’s name until reading D. T. Max’s Onward and Upward With The Arts piece entitled Twister. Now I’m itching to see Duplicity, Tony Gilroy’s latest movie. Coming from the writing side of the business, Gilroy brings a depth of story chops to his work. He both wrote and directed this movie, which BTW was NOT reviewed here, but served as a great framework for Max’s exploration of Gilroy’s work and background. I may make some time to look at some of Gilroy’s older, as writer only, movies. It truly sounds, and from seeing Michael Clayton looks, like he has great handle on how to keep a story moving and engaging.
David Denby’s The Current Cinema “Youthquake” was equally interesting. It is essentially an overview of the little known Mumblecore film genre. So little known is this independent film movement, I’ve never heard of before. Not that I’m the paragon of all things film, but it’s high on my list of interests. I am glad to have been enlightened by Denby’s article. While I suspect that these films may turn out to be more of a curiosity for me, than a new thing-to-follow, I am looking forward to seeing “Alexander The Last” or “Mutual Appreciation”.
Not that I need to tell you this in the order I read things, but while I’m here let’s talk about the article I dropped out of. In retrospect, and not that this had any effect, the Patricia Marx article On And Off The Avenue – Made In The U.S.A./ Is it still possible to buy American? was one of the Style Issue features. And it had a good start. For one thing, the made-in-America challenge is one I pay attention to when possible. With all the skill and craftmenship this country is blessed with, you could wonder why we’d want anyone else’s goods. On then the other hand, every ounce of American will and drive and creativity has been imported via the generations of immigrants that make America what it is.
None of which tells you anything about Marx’s exploration of American goods in NY. The article started well, with Ms. Marx on the trail of yankee made goods. Then, for my tastes, it digressed into a list. At that point I noted that the list may be useful someday, but I don’t need to read it. I generally don’t spend much time reading lists of any sort that don’t affect my work. So I moved on.
To a life-long subject of enjoyment and occasional excitement. Dracula. From my earliest days of TV and movie watching, occult subjects have grabbed my attention, Dracula and Vampires chief among them. My childhood faves include Bela Logosi, Peter Cushing, and Christopher Lee; seen alternately on the greatest late night horror show, “Chiller Theater” with host Bill Cardille ( also known to fans as Chilly Billy Cardilly), and at an actual movie theater. Not one of these multiplexes housing 150 thumbnail sized screens. (though I have to admit I haven’t seen one of those in years – the stadium seating innovation works well for me) I’m talking about a gloriously decorated, one huge screen, theater. With popcorn and jujubes on the floor and hundreds of Saturday matinee children in tha audience (me and my friends) occasionally actually screaming at the good parts.
So, I can’t say why my eyes glossed over the listing in the table of contents, but when they lit on Joan Acocella’s Critic At Large offering, Why Dracula won’t die, was on it! Her article is an overview of Dracula and vampire literary history and several books that offer a variety of very similar sounding annotations. Each book has it’s own hook, but they seem thin to me. Of course, I’m not hot on annotated editions; I prefer the story, the characters, the escapism of being taken on a ride. Boatloads of pesky notes are distracting. Except when reading the Tanach in shul (got to do something to stave off the boredom) or Shakespeare. It just occurred to me to wonder if, as I’d expect, Ms. Acocella had to read every page of each of the books she discussed. I shudder to think about wading through not simply one annotated book. Reading the annotations. Perhaps researching the odd tidbit here and there, fact checking. But doing it for several of these beasts. Damn I hope she’s well paid.
While not entirely germane, I feel like sharing that as I write this I am on a short vacation in Fort Worth Texas. Here for a nephew’s Bar Mitzvah. While returning books to the library the night before leaving on this trip I treated myself to a short read for the flight. One of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer graphic novels. One written by Joss Wheadon himself. And featuring, as a major character – on Buffy’s side – Dracula himself. I always thought it was a pity they couldn’t do more with him in the TV series.
On the winding down side of this ride, I want to give a mention to Alex Wilkinson’s entertainingly written visit to an annual Shrinks convention happy hour. Well done. While maybe not so pertinent or informative as John Cassidy’s “Harder Times”, Wilkinson’s “Analytic Hour: How do you feel about that?” was eminently more fun.
My first couple of issues came on a Tuesday. So here I am expecting another Tuesday delivery and – nope, not this time. This time, I am going out of town on business, my New Yorker has not gotten here, and I will miss half a week of reading time. Damn!
But, I got over it. Enough so to read 3 and ½ articles, all the cartoons, and a couple Talk Of The Town pieces.
Along the way, I met a New Yorker reader in line at Chipotle. She had this week’s, being Wednesday I still had last week’s. Why did she get hers before me? Double damn! We had a good chat about what we gravitate to in the NYer. For instance she skipped March 16 because she doesn’t like the style issue. Oh, this is the style issue? I guess Michelle O on the cover in 3 outfits should have been a clue. Or the red lettered header on the contents page that says Style issue. Observant, ain’t I?
Regardless, I found plenty to read, while admittedly over half of the 3 ½ articles I read were about movies.
I truly enjoyed the 2007 movie Michael Clayton. But I didn’t remember the director’s name until reading D. T. Max’s Onward and Upward With The Arts piece entitled Twister. Now I’m itching to see Duplicity, Tony Gilroy’s latest movie. Coming from the writing side of the business, Gilroy brings a depth of story chops to his work. He both wrote and directed this movie, which BTW was NOT reviewed here, but served as a great framework for Max’s exploration of Gilroy’s work and background. I may make some time to look at some of Gilroy’s older, as writer only, movies. It truly sounds, and from seeing Michael Clayton looks, like he has great handle on how to keep a story moving and engaging.
David Denby’s The Current Cinema “Youthquake” was equally interesting. It is essentially an overview of the little known Mumblecore film genre. So little known is this independent film movement, I’ve never heard of before. Not that I’m the paragon of all things film, but it’s high on my list of interests. I am glad to have been enlightened by Denby’s article. While I suspect that these films may turn out to be more of a curiosity for me, than a new thing-to-follow, I am looking forward to seeing “Alexander The Last” or “Mutual Appreciation”.
Not that I need to tell you this in the order I read things, but while I’m here let’s talk about the article I dropped out of. In retrospect, and not that this had any effect, the Patricia Marx article On And Off The Avenue – Made In The U.S.A./ Is it still possible to buy American? was one of the Style Issue features. And it had a good start. For one thing, the made-in-America challenge is one I pay attention to when possible. With all the skill and craftmenship this country is blessed with, you could wonder why we’d want anyone else’s goods. On then the other hand, every ounce of American will and drive and creativity has been imported via the generations of immigrants that make America what it is.
None of which tells you anything about Marx’s exploration of American goods in NY. The article started well, with Ms. Marx on the trail of yankee made goods. Then, for my tastes, it digressed into a list. At that point I noted that the list may be useful someday, but I don’t need to read it. I generally don’t spend much time reading lists of any sort that don’t affect my work. So I moved on.
To a life-long subject of enjoyment and occasional excitement. Dracula. From my earliest days of TV and movie watching, occult subjects have grabbed my attention, Dracula and Vampires chief among them. My childhood faves include Bela Logosi, Peter Cushing, and Christopher Lee; seen alternately on the greatest late night horror show, “Chiller Theater” with host Bill Cardille ( also known to fans as Chilly Billy Cardilly), and at an actual movie theater. Not one of these multiplexes housing 150 thumbnail sized screens. (though I have to admit I haven’t seen one of those in years – the stadium seating innovation works well for me) I’m talking about a gloriously decorated, one huge screen, theater. With popcorn and jujubes on the floor and hundreds of Saturday matinee children in tha audience (me and my friends) occasionally actually screaming at the good parts.
So, I can’t say why my eyes glossed over the listing in the table of contents, but when they lit on Joan Acocella’s Critic At Large offering, Why Dracula won’t die, was on it! Her article is an overview of Dracula and vampire literary history and several books that offer a variety of very similar sounding annotations. Each book has it’s own hook, but they seem thin to me. Of course, I’m not hot on annotated editions; I prefer the story, the characters, the escapism of being taken on a ride. Boatloads of pesky notes are distracting. Except when reading the Tanach in shul (got to do something to stave off the boredom) or Shakespeare. It just occurred to me to wonder if, as I’d expect, Ms. Acocella had to read every page of each of the books she discussed. I shudder to think about wading through not simply one annotated book. Reading the annotations. Perhaps researching the odd tidbit here and there, fact checking. But doing it for several of these beasts. Damn I hope she’s well paid.
While not entirely germane, I feel like sharing that as I write this I am on a short vacation in Fort Worth Texas. Here for a nephew’s Bar Mitzvah. While returning books to the library the night before leaving on this trip I treated myself to a short read for the flight. One of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer graphic novels. One written by Joss Wheadon himself. And featuring, as a major character – on Buffy’s side – Dracula himself. I always thought it was a pity they couldn’t do more with him in the TV series.
On the winding down side of this ride, I want to give a mention to Alex Wilkinson’s entertainingly written visit to an annual Shrinks convention happy hour. Well done. While maybe not so pertinent or informative as John Cassidy’s “Harder Times”, Wilkinson’s “Analytic Hour: How do you feel about that?” was eminently more fun.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Mar, 9, 2009 Issue
To start with, I am already behind in my reading. I have one more story I want to read in the March 9 issue and the new one will be in the mail when I get home. Not stressing, because it’s not a race, but I had hopes of keeping a schedule here. I recently discussed my new subscription and blog with a real writer I know (Goldie), a journalist much smarter than myself, who without any preamble on my part offered that she gives herself permission to not read all of every issue. Which is why, she explained, there are so many subscribers with piles of partially read New Yorkers around the house.
On the differences between reading a magazine and reading a book.
There are physical differences between reading a magazine and a book that aren’t much of an issue (sorry) until you chose the magazine as your prime reading source. They are all related to the flimsiness of the paper and the cover and the size of the pages. In bed, the stiffness of a book makes it easier to hold. The magazine wants to flop this way and that. The only good way to control it is to fold or roll the magazine, revealing only one column at a time. Which relates to the other way books are easier to read in bed, once again their relative stiffness and the single, broad column of print makes it easier for the eyes to follow the text across the page. And don’t get me started on walking and reading on a windy day! Regardless of how you fold or roll the magazine, unless you keep a killer grip on it the wind will catch a corner of the page an flap it in your face whilst you try vainly to read that same corner.
The inside pages
The first item I note is the Cartoon Caption contest. I can tell by the listed finalists that my sharp witty caption didn’t make it. Of course, that minor disappointment is overcome by the laugh I get from the winner’s quote.
I began this issue with a Talk of The Town piece naming President Obama’s Joint Address to Congress as the moment he first took ownership of his presidency. This opinion column didn’t so much re-tread the speech as noted what the act of giving it, and Obama following it with his ambitious budget, said about the man and his taking of the presidential reins. A few fair and accurately dismissive words were written about Gov. Jindal’s sad rebuttal. It may very well reflect the state of the Republican party today, shallow, stiff, and lacking direction.
With a nod to my sister dearest and her penchant for celebrity rags, I dove right into an article about singer Lilly Allen. My daughter introduced me to Ms. Allen’s jaunty tunes a year ago. I enjoyed this outing with the young pop star as she tooled around the big apple for a day. Sasha Frere-Jones’ mix of solid background - the usual "bad girl" antics - and a light touch reporting of her time with Lilly gave me the impression of experiencing a real person, with warts intact.
As a creature of my movie reviewing reading habit, and contrary to my previous decision to not read the New Yorker reviews, I couldn’t resist Anthony Lane’s swipe at the Watchmen movie. I’ve read the graphic novel, wondering how it could be the most acclaimed graphic novel of all times and I, nor several people I’ve questioned, hadn’t heard of it before a year ago? While Lane’s review was cutting, direct, and well-written, it lacked a certain joie de vivre that I’ve found in other reviewers negative reviews (of other movies). I’ve found that a truly disappointed or pissed-off reviewer will often wax poetic in their vilification of the movie at hand. Their turns of phrase and over-all command of demeaning words becomes it’s own entertainment. This feeling was present in Lane’s review. Oh, well.
Patricia Marx’s Memo from the CEO was mildly entertaining. I kept having the feeling that I’d read it before. With changes to a few technology references, it could have come out of the layoffs craze of the 1980s. For any who haven’t lived through this before, it may strike a deeper chord.
If I hadn’t been interested in the story of David Foster Wallace, D.T Max’s “The Unfinished, David Foster Wallace’s project” could have seemed interminable. But it is a compelling story and I was an interested reader. Max paints a very full portrait of the artist as a young and middle-aged man. While simultaneously including all the pertinent details needed to understand each phase of Wallace’s life and career and resisting the (possible) urge to mimic Wallace’s obsession with the minutiae of his character’s lives and thoughts, Max succeeds in bringing Wallace and his struggles to life. Of the incongruous character traits that stuck out for me, one was Wallace’s enjoyment of the writing for it’s own sake and his later qualms over how long “the project” could become before then needing to be cut by 90%. The prospect of how much writing he would need to do daunted him when earlier his approach seemed to be write-first-ask-questions-later. This was probably the most tactile, the most immediate clue to me that the problem wasn’t the writing but the writer. And, as a person who’s known a couple bi-polars in my life, I knew very well the frustration of the chemical guessing game modern psycho-pharmacology remains. We may all share the same DNA, but when it comes to affecting our psyches each of us is an island unto our own. The chance of your doctor nailing the drug, or the combination of drugs, that sets you right on the first or sometimes second try is a crap shoot. Then, once you’ve hit on the magic combo, you can’t rely on it forever…your body changes as you age and the chemicals that work for you now will likely change also. Square one again!
The impetus for this mini-bio of David Foster Wallace is the expected release of the portion of what would have been his next novel had he not killed himself. And this issue includes an excerpt. As of this writing, I haven’t read it yet, so expect a post-script.
And now for another kvetch. My self-imposed restriction to only reading the New Yorker is at odds with my natural desire to go back and try (again) to read Wallace’s Infinite Jest. Along with Chabon’s Kavelier and Klay (another aborted read) and several other novels that have crossed my path again recently. But I will demure for the time being as they will be there waiting when I get to them. And, I foresee either a random ebb and flow in the number of pieces I will read in each coming issue (most likely scenario) or a need to restrict how many articles I choose each week. I decline to decide for now.
David Foster Wallace book excerpt.
If I remember correctly, The Wiggle Room was one of the earlier pieces Wallace sent to his editor as a teaser. It features a character named Lane Dean Jr. who works in an IRS tax return review facility. The facility itself, described early and in a few words, is a modern Dickensian sweat shop of accountants and calculators. The in box is continually re-filled by “cart boys”, one of whom pushes a cart with the quintessential squeaky wheel. Our “hero”, in this excerpt, hits the wall of boredom at his job. It is a boredom that threatens to drown him. Wallace writes in a swiftly moving stream of thought style that feels as if he invented it. All the better to feel the buffeting of Lane’s psyche as he struggles against boredom with a depth of description that must come from Wallace’s personal relationship with mental turmoil. I’m not sure I have the stamina to experience an entire novel of the same, but intend to try when I return to reading novels.
Ps – I made it. I read The Wiggle Room at lunch, beating the mailbox and my next awaiting issue with hours to spare.
On the differences between reading a magazine and reading a book.
There are physical differences between reading a magazine and a book that aren’t much of an issue (sorry) until you chose the magazine as your prime reading source. They are all related to the flimsiness of the paper and the cover and the size of the pages. In bed, the stiffness of a book makes it easier to hold. The magazine wants to flop this way and that. The only good way to control it is to fold or roll the magazine, revealing only one column at a time. Which relates to the other way books are easier to read in bed, once again their relative stiffness and the single, broad column of print makes it easier for the eyes to follow the text across the page. And don’t get me started on walking and reading on a windy day! Regardless of how you fold or roll the magazine, unless you keep a killer grip on it the wind will catch a corner of the page an flap it in your face whilst you try vainly to read that same corner.
The inside pages
The first item I note is the Cartoon Caption contest. I can tell by the listed finalists that my sharp witty caption didn’t make it. Of course, that minor disappointment is overcome by the laugh I get from the winner’s quote.
I began this issue with a Talk of The Town piece naming President Obama’s Joint Address to Congress as the moment he first took ownership of his presidency. This opinion column didn’t so much re-tread the speech as noted what the act of giving it, and Obama following it with his ambitious budget, said about the man and his taking of the presidential reins. A few fair and accurately dismissive words were written about Gov. Jindal’s sad rebuttal. It may very well reflect the state of the Republican party today, shallow, stiff, and lacking direction.
With a nod to my sister dearest and her penchant for celebrity rags, I dove right into an article about singer Lilly Allen. My daughter introduced me to Ms. Allen’s jaunty tunes a year ago. I enjoyed this outing with the young pop star as she tooled around the big apple for a day. Sasha Frere-Jones’ mix of solid background - the usual "bad girl" antics - and a light touch reporting of her time with Lilly gave me the impression of experiencing a real person, with warts intact.
As a creature of my movie reviewing reading habit, and contrary to my previous decision to not read the New Yorker reviews, I couldn’t resist Anthony Lane’s swipe at the Watchmen movie. I’ve read the graphic novel, wondering how it could be the most acclaimed graphic novel of all times and I, nor several people I’ve questioned, hadn’t heard of it before a year ago? While Lane’s review was cutting, direct, and well-written, it lacked a certain joie de vivre that I’ve found in other reviewers negative reviews (of other movies). I’ve found that a truly disappointed or pissed-off reviewer will often wax poetic in their vilification of the movie at hand. Their turns of phrase and over-all command of demeaning words becomes it’s own entertainment. This feeling was present in Lane’s review. Oh, well.
Patricia Marx’s Memo from the CEO was mildly entertaining. I kept having the feeling that I’d read it before. With changes to a few technology references, it could have come out of the layoffs craze of the 1980s. For any who haven’t lived through this before, it may strike a deeper chord.
If I hadn’t been interested in the story of David Foster Wallace, D.T Max’s “The Unfinished, David Foster Wallace’s project” could have seemed interminable. But it is a compelling story and I was an interested reader. Max paints a very full portrait of the artist as a young and middle-aged man. While simultaneously including all the pertinent details needed to understand each phase of Wallace’s life and career and resisting the (possible) urge to mimic Wallace’s obsession with the minutiae of his character’s lives and thoughts, Max succeeds in bringing Wallace and his struggles to life. Of the incongruous character traits that stuck out for me, one was Wallace’s enjoyment of the writing for it’s own sake and his later qualms over how long “the project” could become before then needing to be cut by 90%. The prospect of how much writing he would need to do daunted him when earlier his approach seemed to be write-first-ask-questions-later. This was probably the most tactile, the most immediate clue to me that the problem wasn’t the writing but the writer. And, as a person who’s known a couple bi-polars in my life, I knew very well the frustration of the chemical guessing game modern psycho-pharmacology remains. We may all share the same DNA, but when it comes to affecting our psyches each of us is an island unto our own. The chance of your doctor nailing the drug, or the combination of drugs, that sets you right on the first or sometimes second try is a crap shoot. Then, once you’ve hit on the magic combo, you can’t rely on it forever…your body changes as you age and the chemicals that work for you now will likely change also. Square one again!
The impetus for this mini-bio of David Foster Wallace is the expected release of the portion of what would have been his next novel had he not killed himself. And this issue includes an excerpt. As of this writing, I haven’t read it yet, so expect a post-script.
And now for another kvetch. My self-imposed restriction to only reading the New Yorker is at odds with my natural desire to go back and try (again) to read Wallace’s Infinite Jest. Along with Chabon’s Kavelier and Klay (another aborted read) and several other novels that have crossed my path again recently. But I will demure for the time being as they will be there waiting when I get to them. And, I foresee either a random ebb and flow in the number of pieces I will read in each coming issue (most likely scenario) or a need to restrict how many articles I choose each week. I decline to decide for now.
David Foster Wallace book excerpt.
If I remember correctly, The Wiggle Room was one of the earlier pieces Wallace sent to his editor as a teaser. It features a character named Lane Dean Jr. who works in an IRS tax return review facility. The facility itself, described early and in a few words, is a modern Dickensian sweat shop of accountants and calculators. The in box is continually re-filled by “cart boys”, one of whom pushes a cart with the quintessential squeaky wheel. Our “hero”, in this excerpt, hits the wall of boredom at his job. It is a boredom that threatens to drown him. Wallace writes in a swiftly moving stream of thought style that feels as if he invented it. All the better to feel the buffeting of Lane’s psyche as he struggles against boredom with a depth of description that must come from Wallace’s personal relationship with mental turmoil. I’m not sure I have the stamina to experience an entire novel of the same, but intend to try when I return to reading novels.
Ps – I made it. I read The Wiggle Room at lunch, beating the mailbox and my next awaiting issue with hours to spare.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
About the March 2, 2009 Edition
Not that you need to know, but true to form, I wrote my intro to this blog after reading my first New Yorker magazine and I begin actually commenting after reading the second issue.
Of all the erudite offerings to top my list of readings, I begin – as I believe I will be wont to do when I open each new issue, with the delightful cartoons sprinkled throughout. That The New Yorker was source of sometimes sharp, sometimes odd, and many times enjoyable humor is not new to me. It was some years ago that I made the happy, and at the time surprising, discovery that Charles Addam’s Addam’s Family series had it’s started here. If you are only family with the TV show (showing my age) and the movies (we are all poorer for Raoul Julia’s passing), then you’ve missed most of the fun. While it was many years after that discovery that I read an actual article in The New Yorker, my view of this mag as a staid, aloof bit of reading had been altered for years.
This week I passed my 2 article goal by 2 +, including the Fiction piece “Brother on Sunday”, the Letter From Washington – “The Gatekeeper”, A Reporter At Large “The Back Channel”, On Television “The Dollhouse”, and from Talk of the Town - The Boards “Notes from Beyond”.
“Notes from Beyond” was a light bit of fluff about auditioning psychics for a consultancy on “Blithe Spirit”. As short an frivolous as it was, “Notes” was an enjoyable read.
“The GateKeeper”, about Rahm Emmanuel, was a respectful profile which may not have added much to my understanding of Mr. Emmanuel, but delivered in the personal glimpses it afforded. It’s possible that I came jaded to this story, being a news junkie and having heard many previous stories about this man. But I did enjoy the writing style, and the insights offered through quotes from those people Mr. Emmanuel has work with, and against, in his career. I guess the one noteworthy character note was the focus in having quality time with his family, as demonstrated by his anxiousness to leave on a trip with them.
On Television, “Dollhouse” was a pleasant surprise for me. In my consideration of a lowly 2 story per week goal I had determined that I read enough entertainment reviews elsewhere that I didn’t need to add The New Yorker’s to my reading habit. But I am a Joss Wheadon fan. Not in the sense of loving and defending every thing he’s ever done, but more as being admiring of his success and his outlook. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was must see TV for my family and I in it’s first run. We even liked Spike so much we followed him to Angel. But I never bonded with Firefly. Though I did enjoy Serenity. However, his biggest contributions to recent entertainment history are both musical. I still listen to “Once More With Feeling”, his Buffy musical, on my ipod occasionally and “Dr. Horrible” was simply a delight. So, I gave myself this one more path to a subject I enjoy. Not yet, sure how far I’ll go with the show (Dollhouse) though.
The fiction offering this week was character study by the name of “Brother on Sunday”. It was and interesting read, if shallow in scope. Not to denigrate it, as I developed opinions and feelings about at least the main character which wouldn’t be possible in a lesser story. I have to admit, having stated my preference for Sci-Fi that I enjoyed the previous week’s short story better. “The Daughters of The Moon”, by Italian writer Italo Calvino, is a whimsical fantasia of a story blatantly critical of our consumer culture.
The granddaddy article of this issue was “The Back Channel”. This article took me half of the week to read. At least an hour, in small fits and starts. My habit is to read at breakfast and lunch and before bed. While I didn’t finish Rahm Emmanuel in one sitting, “The Back Channel” took at least 4, if not 5. It is a sprawling monograph on the Indian-Pakistani conflict and efforts by the principals to find a solution. Along the way we are treated to an overview of the Kashmir issue, the relationship between Pakistan’s military intelligence community and jihadi groups (the jihadi’s are seen as a cheap way to keep India “off-balance”), the extent to which high level Pakistani’s and Indian’s have worked to open and keep a dialogue going ( w/ a nod to the fact that they’ve done this on their own and are better off for the US and Britain not being involved), and the speed bump Pakistan’s recent regime change presented. But the one thing that impressed itself upon me when I saw it in print, and mind you this is one paragraph – practically a side comment, was the part Great Britain played in fomenting this conflict. As with other sections of the middle-east, as Britain’s empire began to wan and she divested herself of territories she could not longer even pretend to govern, this former world dominating force cut and run with only the most cursory consideration for what it was leaving behind. The extent of Britain’s ineptitude can be seen today on the various long running conflicts ongoing in their former holdings. It makes me wonder how a people who could fuck up so much with so little effort ever built an empire in the first place.
I truly haven’t been able to show much interest for the other articles in this issue, even if I had the time. I still have a book of Sci-Fi short stories from the library and was sorely tempted to revert to it for a less rigorous read this week, but felt it was too early to backslide. And beside, when I get home I expect to find the next issue waiting.
Of all the erudite offerings to top my list of readings, I begin – as I believe I will be wont to do when I open each new issue, with the delightful cartoons sprinkled throughout. That The New Yorker was source of sometimes sharp, sometimes odd, and many times enjoyable humor is not new to me. It was some years ago that I made the happy, and at the time surprising, discovery that Charles Addam’s Addam’s Family series had it’s started here. If you are only family with the TV show (showing my age) and the movies (we are all poorer for Raoul Julia’s passing), then you’ve missed most of the fun. While it was many years after that discovery that I read an actual article in The New Yorker, my view of this mag as a staid, aloof bit of reading had been altered for years.
This week I passed my 2 article goal by 2 +, including the Fiction piece “Brother on Sunday”, the Letter From Washington – “The Gatekeeper”, A Reporter At Large “The Back Channel”, On Television “The Dollhouse”, and from Talk of the Town - The Boards “Notes from Beyond”.
“Notes from Beyond” was a light bit of fluff about auditioning psychics for a consultancy on “Blithe Spirit”. As short an frivolous as it was, “Notes” was an enjoyable read.
“The GateKeeper”, about Rahm Emmanuel, was a respectful profile which may not have added much to my understanding of Mr. Emmanuel, but delivered in the personal glimpses it afforded. It’s possible that I came jaded to this story, being a news junkie and having heard many previous stories about this man. But I did enjoy the writing style, and the insights offered through quotes from those people Mr. Emmanuel has work with, and against, in his career. I guess the one noteworthy character note was the focus in having quality time with his family, as demonstrated by his anxiousness to leave on a trip with them.
On Television, “Dollhouse” was a pleasant surprise for me. In my consideration of a lowly 2 story per week goal I had determined that I read enough entertainment reviews elsewhere that I didn’t need to add The New Yorker’s to my reading habit. But I am a Joss Wheadon fan. Not in the sense of loving and defending every thing he’s ever done, but more as being admiring of his success and his outlook. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was must see TV for my family and I in it’s first run. We even liked Spike so much we followed him to Angel. But I never bonded with Firefly. Though I did enjoy Serenity. However, his biggest contributions to recent entertainment history are both musical. I still listen to “Once More With Feeling”, his Buffy musical, on my ipod occasionally and “Dr. Horrible” was simply a delight. So, I gave myself this one more path to a subject I enjoy. Not yet, sure how far I’ll go with the show (Dollhouse) though.
The fiction offering this week was character study by the name of “Brother on Sunday”. It was and interesting read, if shallow in scope. Not to denigrate it, as I developed opinions and feelings about at least the main character which wouldn’t be possible in a lesser story. I have to admit, having stated my preference for Sci-Fi that I enjoyed the previous week’s short story better. “The Daughters of The Moon”, by Italian writer Italo Calvino, is a whimsical fantasia of a story blatantly critical of our consumer culture.
The granddaddy article of this issue was “The Back Channel”. This article took me half of the week to read. At least an hour, in small fits and starts. My habit is to read at breakfast and lunch and before bed. While I didn’t finish Rahm Emmanuel in one sitting, “The Back Channel” took at least 4, if not 5. It is a sprawling monograph on the Indian-Pakistani conflict and efforts by the principals to find a solution. Along the way we are treated to an overview of the Kashmir issue, the relationship between Pakistan’s military intelligence community and jihadi groups (the jihadi’s are seen as a cheap way to keep India “off-balance”), the extent to which high level Pakistani’s and Indian’s have worked to open and keep a dialogue going ( w/ a nod to the fact that they’ve done this on their own and are better off for the US and Britain not being involved), and the speed bump Pakistan’s recent regime change presented. But the one thing that impressed itself upon me when I saw it in print, and mind you this is one paragraph – practically a side comment, was the part Great Britain played in fomenting this conflict. As with other sections of the middle-east, as Britain’s empire began to wan and she divested herself of territories she could not longer even pretend to govern, this former world dominating force cut and run with only the most cursory consideration for what it was leaving behind. The extent of Britain’s ineptitude can be seen today on the various long running conflicts ongoing in their former holdings. It makes me wonder how a people who could fuck up so much with so little effort ever built an empire in the first place.
I truly haven’t been able to show much interest for the other articles in this issue, even if I had the time. I still have a book of Sci-Fi short stories from the library and was sorely tempted to revert to it for a less rigorous read this week, but felt it was too early to backslide. And beside, when I get home I expect to find the next issue waiting.
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