September 26, 2013 Look Typewriter, Tip, Tip, Tip By Sadie Stein Paper Typerwriter, 2011, by Jennifer Collier. Vintage typewriter manual pages, gray board, and machine stitching. Via Art Made from Books: Altered Sculptured, Carved, Transformed.
September 26, 2013 On Music The Tao of Joe Walsh By Matt Domino Recently, Bill Simmons, the popular sportswriter and editor-in-chief of Grantland, wrote an extended feature about last year’s The History of the Eagles, the two-part documentary chronicling the “legendary” band’s rise, fall, and reunion. In his article, Simmons states that one of the best parts of the film is “The Tao of Joe Walsh,” which basically translates to the hazy, drug-reduced, unintentionally funny, aging-rock-star wisdom of the Eagles’ part-time virtuoso guitarist. As part of his appreciation for Joe Walsh, Simmons highlights the following quote: You know, there’s a philosopher who says, “As you live your life, it appears to be anarchy and chaos, and random events, non-related events, smashing into each other and causing this situation or that situation, and then, this happens, and it’s overwhelming, and it just looks like what in the world is going on. And later, when you look back at it, it looks like a finely crafted novel. But at the time, it don’t.” From the above quote, it’s easy to understand why Joe Walsh is seen in a less than serious light. It is unfortunate that his legacy has become merely one of “rock ’n‘ roll’s survivors.” Though for many, “rock survivor” would not be an accolade to frown at, Walsh should be seen as something more than a former party animal who, though he has turned his life around, is not worth taking seriously. Read More
September 26, 2013 Arts & Culture Swag By Sadie Stein Those with an appetite for funeral baked meats and a few mil burning the proverbial hole, NB: Elmore Leonard’s Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, estate can be yours. “His jeans are all lined up, his shoes are all perfect … I’ve never seen a closet so organized,” says the real estate agent, oddly. If this is not temptation enough, consider this description: “The home is a French Regency stunner with five bedrooms, four full baths, and three half baths. Set on over an acre, the graceful 4,733 square foot mansion is part of a secluded little suburban escape with its own private pool and tennis court.” All the mod cons (one presumes) and within easy distance of Detroit hot spots.
September 26, 2013 On the Shelf Two Shades of Wine, and Other News By Sadie Stein “Wine plays an important role in Fifty Shades of Grey. I’ve always had a penchant for good wine, so combining two of my passions … was a natural extension of the series.” The foremost entrepreneur of our times, E. L. James, is launching a line of wines. Soon to be received by anyone who has the ill fortune to invite me to dinner. This banned-books tote—which features fifty banned titles—is a striking reminder that goes beyond Banned Books Week. University of Toronto professor David Gilmour has, not shockingly, stirred up controversy by stating in an interview that he is “not interested in teaching books by women.” And, “I don’t love women writers enough to teach them, if you want women writers go down the hall.” And, just in case that wasn’t clear, “What I teach is guys. Serious heterosexual guys … F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chekhov, Tolstoy. Real guy-guys.” Lolita, Twilight, and eight other best-sellers that were initially rejected by publishers. What hath the Romans wrought? A concise history of the hashtag.
September 25, 2013 Bulletin Donald Antrim Wins Genius Grant By The Paris Review Here on Twenty-Seventh Street, we are kvelling: we just learned that our advisory editor, longtime contributor, and friend Donald Antrim is a 2013 MacArthur fellow. In an interview published in issue 203, Antrim said of his fiction, It took me a while to understand that in building another world through the fantastic I was making a set of rules that had to be observed, a logic that had to be carried through—that I was in some ways obeying the premise of the very opening line, and that each book would make itself out of itself as time went on. The committee described his work as “at once absurd but relatable, free but structured, romantic but realistic, funny but sad.” He is in terrific company: among the other twenty-three honorees are Karen Russell, playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney, and the musician and writer Jeremy Denk. (See a full list of 2013 fellows here.) Hearty congratulations to all!
September 25, 2013 First Person Bad Call: Meditations on the Pocket Dial By Abigail Deutsch Still from the film Brief Encounter (1945). My acquaintances rarely call me, but their pockets and purses ring me up faithfully. So it is for the Abigails and Aarons, the Abdullahs and Aaliyahs, A. A. and AAA—and one mustn’t forget the Yaschas and Yankels, the Xenas and Zinos. We alphabetical extremists, we who crown and conclude your contact lists: we aren’t a call away so much as a few unintended nudges. Perhaps your finger, seeking lipstick, flicks the “Contacts” key, and your phone highlights the earliest entry—dear old Abelard!—and your knuckle strikes “Call.” Perhaps, in the thick of all that accidental action, your pinky pokes the “Up” button, taking you to the list’s final entry: then it’s cousin Zabrina you’ve piped into your life. Not to alarm you; not to suggest that, at this very minute, an army of Abners and Zilpahs are listening to their cell phones with unseemly interest, picking up on secrets you had never meant to share. No, it’s far more likely we’re hearing whish-whoosh, whish-whoosh: the song of your stride. Is there anything quite like the pocket dial? Does any other form of social intercourse invite us—actually, mandate us—to spy on our acquaintances? Mandate? you ask. Yes, mandate, at least for a few moments. “Hello?” we say, and listen. “Hello?” we say again. And hear the background music of our friends’ lives: the slamming doors, the roaring traffic, the whish and the whoosh. Where is he walking? we wonder. Why is she shouting? And we never find out. Unless, of course, we keep listening. Which I don’t. Hardly ever. Only under duress. When, for instance, years ago, the enigmatic and taciturn youth I had recently started dating called me while he was catching up with his mom. This isn’t invasion, I told myself guiltily, as I noted his thoughtful inquiries and nodded with approval. This is research. This is good for the team. Read More