If you have it before you, flip quickly past the Perry Ellis, Dolce & Gabbana and Fendi advertisements on the single- and double-digit page numbers of the new, March 2008 Vanity Fair, and come to rest on p. 232, the seventh in the always-revealing "FANFAIR" section. Here we find, in the lower right-hand corner that is the third of a half-page, "Night-Table Reading," that lovely little monthly viewer into the literary lives of those somebodies most subscribers only know televisually. This month's interviewees: Conan O'Brien, Jay Leno, and Martha Stewart (or, simply summarized, "The Talk-Show Hosts").
C.O. - The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable - "I'm enjoying this book because it confirms just about everything I have learned after 20 years of working in television: humans have bad brains, and nobody - especially anyone in a position of authority - knows what the hell they are talking about. I also like the pretty bird on the cover."
J.L. - Equations of Motion: Adventure, Risk, and Innovation - "Bill Milliken is an engineer, and he wrote the book at age 95. He was practically there when Lindbergh took off. It's just a fascinating look at motion through the 20th century."
M.S. - Out Stealing Horses - "I am currently reading a fabulous novel that I can't put down, by Norwegian novelist Per Peterson. The book is beautifully written, different, heartbreaking, and evocative."
So what can be said about C.O., J.L., and M.S. from reading what they said about what they are reading?
O'Brien is self-deprecating, as per usual and especially on the last note which is, of course, a failed joke and seemingly has to be so, but balances this expectation of humor by demonstrating an awareness of the macroish rewards of reading, how the prose of another can confirm long-held notions of the self and the world. All of this, however, seeps irony, as C.O. assumes a position of authority when speaking about such awareness, and thus does not, according to his own belief, "know what the hell [he] is talking about." Proof in forty-nine words and two numerals that Conan is the smartest working entertainer on television.
Leno's a grease-monkey and a serious car collector with a serious amount of knowledge about what he collects. So this selection is not surprising; in fact, it is altogether fitting and believable that he really is reading this book every night before bed. Moreover, his enthusiasm is clear, and he succeeds and informing the interviewer exactly why this random choice is so very exciting: Milliken wrote it at 95, the age at which most of us are dead; this guy was "practically there when Lindbergh took off," and is, as such, a front-row dispatch from the century that took machine-initiated motion to a level hitherto unheard of.
If Stewart wrote this blurb, I'll be damned and not hesitate to repudiate my cynicism by buying every cookbook she's ever published. (Five-to-one that the lowest of low-level interns was assigned to reply to the bothersome (but importantly bothersome in that it keeps "us" in the magazines of high-society thus retaining our fleeting sense of relevancy that started to drain just prior to feeling that horrific sensation of cold hand-shackles) email from whatever low-level intern at Vanity Fair was assigned to send out.) Even so, I'll remain the victor, as this dumbest of answers affirms M.S.'s self-infatuation and subliteracy. Count the cliches: "fabulous novel," "can't put down," "beautifully written," "heartbreaking and evocative." These constitute nearly half of the answer, and when unpacked say nothing. I'm bored just writing about her words, of which the first sentence she spends telling us what we already know and tries to name-dropping-of-a-foreign-author-ly impress us, while beating us to death in the second sentence with a lack of original thought - a fact conveyed quite clearly by those less-than-descriptive adjectives that read suspiciously as though they were lifted from a fifth-grader's book report.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
A Running Commentary on the season premiere of LOST
Editor's Note: In an attempt to capture the many thoughts that LOST provokes (especially when it's been over seven months since the last new episode), I took notes during my viewing of the season premiere. I know. How lame is that? But since my LOST compadres - a quick shout out to KLANG and Triple Lutz - are a thousand miles away, the usual interpersonal experience that is Wednesday night on ABC has depressingly become an experience of solitude, wherein I often look toward an imaginary audience and exclaim, "Can you fucking believe that?" Thus, I'm now running commentary so as to retain that same sense of interaction, even if it is delayed and electronic. In keeping with the unedited spirit of the aformentioned sessions, I have not cleaned up or rewritten any of these so-called observations. This is what wrote after what I saw.
"A running commentary on the season premiere of LOST" - 5 February 2008 - 2:07 a.m.
A great cold open. Hurley as a fugitive? Fantastic switch to flashforwards, which may take some time getting used to, but show incredible promise in terms of storytelling. Jack's future alcoholism foreshadowed reminded me of the incredibly continuity of this show. And the Oceanic Six?!? I love that. Like the Chicago 10, or the Seattle Seven (if you get the second reference, your comedic sensibility is damn near perfect). The question, of course, becomes: who are the other three? After three minutes, I'm completely hooked again.
A second flashforward; Kate still loves Jack, that is obvious. And she has no reason to go home from the island. Of course, most of them, including Jack, don't have much of a reason.
"And here I was thinking I was going to get a good night's sleep." - Sawyer
Hurley is paranoid - and seemingly for good reason.
"Are they still alive?" - The Oceanic "laywer" to Hurley. I have no idea what this means, but I love it.
Sawyer's compassion for Hurley is striking. Before coming to the island, it was clear that Sawer acted in a completely selfish and self-centered manner. But "surviving" has taught him a sense of community, brotherhood and sacrifice. It's fleeting, to be sure, but it's there.
Jacob. I'm not sure about this character. Potential.
Naomi is a real bitch. I don't know who George is, but they've made his voice rather unlikeable.
Locke finds Hugo at Jacob's place. He plays to, in convincing Hugo to go with him to the abandoned barracks, exactly what Hurley is emotionally invested in, which is, of course, Charley. (Why is Locke the only one who calls Hurley, "Hugo"? Nice touch.)
Jack would've killed Locke if there had been a bullet in that gun. Locke would not have done the same. What is Jack becoming?
"If you want to live, you'll come with me." - Locke. I, until this point, have usually sided with Jack. But Locke is making more and more sense.
"You're if I went nuts, if I was going to tell." - Hurley to Jack, in flashforward. Tell what?!?
"I think it wants us to come back." - Hurley to Jack, in flashfoward. Damn. Sounds like Locke. The island personified. Sounds like Jack at the end of Season 3.
What was it that Hurley could've told?
How easy it is to forget that this is unquestionably the best show on television. Great to be back.
"A running commentary on the season premiere of LOST" - 5 February 2008 - 2:07 a.m.
A great cold open. Hurley as a fugitive? Fantastic switch to flashforwards, which may take some time getting used to, but show incredible promise in terms of storytelling. Jack's future alcoholism foreshadowed reminded me of the incredibly continuity of this show. And the Oceanic Six?!? I love that. Like the Chicago 10, or the Seattle Seven (if you get the second reference, your comedic sensibility is damn near perfect). The question, of course, becomes: who are the other three? After three minutes, I'm completely hooked again.
A second flashforward; Kate still loves Jack, that is obvious. And she has no reason to go home from the island. Of course, most of them, including Jack, don't have much of a reason.
"And here I was thinking I was going to get a good night's sleep." - Sawyer
Hurley is paranoid - and seemingly for good reason.
"Are they still alive?" - The Oceanic "laywer" to Hurley. I have no idea what this means, but I love it.
Sawyer's compassion for Hurley is striking. Before coming to the island, it was clear that Sawer acted in a completely selfish and self-centered manner. But "surviving" has taught him a sense of community, brotherhood and sacrifice. It's fleeting, to be sure, but it's there.
Jacob. I'm not sure about this character. Potential.
Naomi is a real bitch. I don't know who George is, but they've made his voice rather unlikeable.
Locke finds Hugo at Jacob's place. He plays to, in convincing Hugo to go with him to the abandoned barracks, exactly what Hurley is emotionally invested in, which is, of course, Charley. (Why is Locke the only one who calls Hurley, "Hugo"? Nice touch.)
Jack would've killed Locke if there had been a bullet in that gun. Locke would not have done the same. What is Jack becoming?
"If you want to live, you'll come with me." - Locke. I, until this point, have usually sided with Jack. But Locke is making more and more sense.
"You're if I went nuts, if I was going to tell." - Hurley to Jack, in flashforward. Tell what?!?
"I think it wants us to come back." - Hurley to Jack, in flashfoward. Damn. Sounds like Locke. The island personified. Sounds like Jack at the end of Season 3.
What was it that Hurley could've told?
How easy it is to forget that this is unquestionably the best show on television. Great to be back.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
A Few Thoughts On Contemporary American Men's Magazine Feature Essay Writing
If you read my last post of four essay reviews, you'll remember that I borrowed the title of the post from Mindy Kaling's blog. Well, it's a new fucking year, and I've decided that it's going to be Kaling free. I never liked her, her blog, her comedy writing, or her acting in the first place, so says the position I am now taking. I lied to all of you. (Still, her prose is sharp.)
Kaling aside, a select group of essays need to have some things said about them. As such, I've alloted this space to do just that.
1. "Colby Buzzell's State of the Union 2008," by (who else?) Colby Buzzell. Esquire, February 2008. - Can somebody please tell me when it will become officially trite to send a reporter around (parts of) the country so as to gather a so-called definitive perspective on how things are and what people are thinking? Oh, it's already trite? Perfect. Then this is just stupid writing and bad editorial practice. Can this stated intention even be successfully accomplished in essay form? The answer, of course, is no. If you want such a product, read On the Road (1957) or Travels with Charley in Search of America (1962), or find a similar, book-long consideration that follows the tested and true Kerouac/Steinbeck formula. But don't patronize me with eight and a half pages. C'mon, Buzzell - stop going straight for the stereotypes. Oh, they drink and hunt heavily in Texas? I had no idea. Thank God you were there to witness this anomaly of culture. My advice: read the first two pages, get it, and then move on. (On the positive: Do consider with care Paula Scher visual map work, which is fresh, and clear evokes the influence of Jasper Johns.)
2. "The Lost King of France," by Michael Paterniti. Gentlemen's Quarterly, February 2008. You've heard a similar story before: a rogue member of the royal family leaves or flees or is disposed from the country for which he is the rightful heir to the throne. Years later, one of his children returns, bring with him much ado, to reclaim what is rightfully his. (You haven't heard this one? Well, stop being ignorant and read some Shakespeare or any other English courtier story.) So what's the new twist for a new reader in the new age? The rightful heir to the French throne (which no longer exists) is a 48-year-old, brown-skinned Indian lawyer, living where Indian lawyers live - in Bhopal, India. Informed nearly a half-century into his life that he is first in line for kingship (should the monarchy ever be restored), the nobleman? undergoes a pathetic psychological transformation. It is a story of one man's real and imagined identity, the ramifications of race in royalty, the self-destructiveness of a particular self-image, misplaced ethnocentrism, and basic human hypocrisy. And it's simultaneously fantastic and heartbreaking.
3. "Violence of the Lambs," by John Jeremiah Sullivan. Gentlemen's Quarterly, February 2008. - I'm a sucker for "When Animals Attack!!!" anything, so it really is no surprise that this is the first feature I read when the Feb GQ arrived in the mail earlier this month. (I even skipped the surprisingly nonsexual Rachel Bilson interview, which, for a moment, made me actually want to rent "The OC.") Really, it is that good. Hell, the teaser title abstract reads, "The greatest threat to civilization in the next half century is not nuclear arms or global warming or a superresitant virus that will wipe us out by the millions. John Jeremiah Sullivan contemplates the coming battle between man and beast." C'mon! How apocalyptically gripping is that? Particularly when it is taken in tandem with the opposite- and full-page image of a lamb, whose maw (literally) is smeared with blood, obviously fresh from the kill. Wait - the lambs are now carnivorous?!? See, I haven't even read one word of the feature and already I've committed to the last sentence. That's a helluva hook.
Pair the titillating subject with Sullivan's Revelation-like tone and you have for yourself a delicious narrative, complete with real-life news accounts, terrific characters, and the prospects of an interspecies conspiracy. The turn at the end is questionable, but I can't fault Sullivan for that. He took what could have been an average list of coincidental "accidents," and turned it into a decisively fear-evoking-for-all-the-right-reasons flashing red warning light. If only all writers had his cuts and creativity.
I don't know why this essay isn't online; I've looked, and I've failed to find you, dear reader, a suitable link. So shell out the $3.99 and buy Miss Bilson's cover copy. After all, you really are reading it for the articles.
Kaling aside, a select group of essays need to have some things said about them. As such, I've alloted this space to do just that.
1. "Colby Buzzell's State of the Union 2008," by (who else?) Colby Buzzell. Esquire, February 2008. - Can somebody please tell me when it will become officially trite to send a reporter around (parts of) the country so as to gather a so-called definitive perspective on how things are and what people are thinking? Oh, it's already trite? Perfect. Then this is just stupid writing and bad editorial practice. Can this stated intention even be successfully accomplished in essay form? The answer, of course, is no. If you want such a product, read On the Road (1957) or Travels with Charley in Search of America (1962), or find a similar, book-long consideration that follows the tested and true Kerouac/Steinbeck formula. But don't patronize me with eight and a half pages. C'mon, Buzzell - stop going straight for the stereotypes. Oh, they drink and hunt heavily in Texas? I had no idea. Thank God you were there to witness this anomaly of culture. My advice: read the first two pages, get it, and then move on. (On the positive: Do consider with care Paula Scher visual map work, which is fresh, and clear evokes the influence of Jasper Johns.)
2. "The Lost King of France," by Michael Paterniti. Gentlemen's Quarterly, February 2008. You've heard a similar story before: a rogue member of the royal family leaves or flees or is disposed from the country for which he is the rightful heir to the throne. Years later, one of his children returns, bring with him much ado, to reclaim what is rightfully his. (You haven't heard this one? Well, stop being ignorant and read some Shakespeare or any other English courtier story.) So what's the new twist for a new reader in the new age? The rightful heir to the French throne (which no longer exists) is a 48-year-old, brown-skinned Indian lawyer, living where Indian lawyers live - in Bhopal, India. Informed nearly a half-century into his life that he is first in line for kingship (should the monarchy ever be restored), the nobleman? undergoes a pathetic psychological transformation. It is a story of one man's real and imagined identity, the ramifications of race in royalty, the self-destructiveness of a particular self-image, misplaced ethnocentrism, and basic human hypocrisy. And it's simultaneously fantastic and heartbreaking.
3. "Violence of the Lambs," by John Jeremiah Sullivan. Gentlemen's Quarterly, February 2008. - I'm a sucker for "When Animals Attack!!!" anything, so it really is no surprise that this is the first feature I read when the Feb GQ arrived in the mail earlier this month. (I even skipped the surprisingly nonsexual Rachel Bilson interview, which, for a moment, made me actually want to rent "The OC.") Really, it is that good. Hell, the teaser title abstract reads, "The greatest threat to civilization in the next half century is not nuclear arms or global warming or a superresitant virus that will wipe us out by the millions. John Jeremiah Sullivan contemplates the coming battle between man and beast." C'mon! How apocalyptically gripping is that? Particularly when it is taken in tandem with the opposite- and full-page image of a lamb, whose maw (literally) is smeared with blood, obviously fresh from the kill. Wait - the lambs are now carnivorous?!? See, I haven't even read one word of the feature and already I've committed to the last sentence. That's a helluva hook.
Pair the titillating subject with Sullivan's Revelation-like tone and you have for yourself a delicious narrative, complete with real-life news accounts, terrific characters, and the prospects of an interspecies conspiracy. The turn at the end is questionable, but I can't fault Sullivan for that. He took what could have been an average list of coincidental "accidents," and turned it into a decisively fear-evoking-for-all-the-right-reasons flashing red warning light. If only all writers had his cuts and creativity.
I don't know why this essay isn't online; I've looked, and I've failed to find you, dear reader, a suitable link. So shell out the $3.99 and buy Miss Bilson's cover copy. After all, you really are reading it for the articles.
"For Me, It's All About KFC"
I have no real desire to write extensively about this follow-up, except to say that it is exceptional. Perhaps beyond exceptional - say, exceptionally brilliant.
O'Connell has it all down: the vocal cadence, the laughter, the hand-slapping, and the facial ticks, all the way down to the movements of the brow.
Satire at its very finest - when you can quote lines from the piece all day and never tire.
O'Connell has it all down: the vocal cadence, the laughter, the hand-slapping, and the facial ticks, all the way down to the movements of the brow.
Satire at its very finest - when you can quote lines from the piece all day and never tire.
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