November 6, 2012 Arts & Culture Steampunks and K-pop and Swag: A Day at New York Comic Con By Jillian Steinhauer Much has been said and written about New York Comic Con. It’s weird, it’s magical, it’s overwhelming, it’s hell on earth, it’s the best event in the world. If you’ve ever attended, it’s easy to see how all of these things could subjectively be true. Only one thing seems objectively true, however: Comic Con is utterly unique (unless you count San Diego Comic-Con, which seems to be the only comparable event in the United States, and which I’ve never attended). Here is a list of things you can buy at Comic Con: the video game Just Dance 4, anime DVDs from Japan, K-pop posters, books titled How to Be Death and Victorian Sexual Positions, your zombie portrait drawn for $19.99, your superhero portrait photographed for $10, a steampunk corset, potions, comics-related earrings, sriracha-themed boxer briefs, “premium” (the seller’s word, not mine) hugs for $2, a photorealist painting of superheroes for $2,495, Nancy Drew manga, the Bible as manga, an autograph (free), and a picture of a girl dressed as hipster Hitler (also free). One thing they don’t sell yet: strollers. But it’s only a matter of time. As a man I overheard on Sunday afternoon astutely observed, “Yo, they should sell strollers here! They’d make a killing.” At Comic Con—and for many blocks north, south, and east of the Javits Center, which hugs the West Side Highway—you can see adults and children alike dressed up as Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Superman, Captain Marvel, Mario, Luigi, Transformers, and at least a hundred other characters I couldn’t identify. People attend discussion panels while painted blue or stroll the aisles in their underwear. Read More
November 6, 2012 On the Shelf The Vatican is Not a Fan of J.K. Rowling’s Adult Oeuvre, and Other News By Sadie Stein The Vatican pans J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. Or at any rate, the Holy See’s official paper does. “I read Rumi, the thirteenth-century Persian poet, every day.” Mary Oliver on her inspirations. Enid Blyton’s “Famous Five” series is being revived for television. Help bookstores post-Sandy. And the most-read book in the world is … not a shocker. [tweetbutton] [facebook_ilike]
November 6, 2012 Bulletin Mark Your Calendars: Plimpton! at DOC NYC By Sadie Stein Writer, thinker, bon vivant, sportsman, actor, participatory journalist extraordinaire, and editor of this magazine: George Plimpton was a figure to be reckoned with. In a new documentary, Plimpton! Starring George Plimpton as Himself, the great man gets his due. On Sunday, November 11, Plimpton! comes to DOC NYC. Join the filmmakersTom Bean and Luke Poling, along with Paris Review editor Lorin Stein, and Terry McDonell, for a special screening of the film. (Also showing Wednesday, November 14.) Get your tickets here.
November 5, 2012 Quote Unquote Bonfire Night By Sadie Stein Remember, remember the fifth of November Gunpowder, treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, ‘Twas his intent To blow up the King and the Parliament. Three score barrels of powder below, Poor old England to overthrow. By God’s providence he was catched With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! A penny loaf to feed ol’ Pope. A farthing cheese to choke him. A pint of beer to rinse it down. A faggot of sticks to burn him. Burn him in a tub of tar. Burn him like a blazing star. Burn his body from his head. Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead. Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! [tweetbutton] [facebook_ilike]
November 5, 2012 Look A Letter from Van Gogh By Sadie Stein We would frankly have been delighted to received correspondence from any of these luminaries, time-travel permitting. But for sheer beauty, Vincent Van Gogh’s letter deserves special mention. Via Divine Hours
November 5, 2012 On Film Eyeballs Left Standing By Dave Tompkins The Alligator People (1959). The Invisible Man, neat freak by design, was known to fuss over the grit beneath his fingernails. According to British horror historian Denis Gifford, dirt threatened transparency. In A Pictorial History of Horror Movies, Gifford sees “a pair of disembodied trousers skipping down the lane to ‘Here We Come Gathering Nuts in May.’” The hands are clean. For Gifford, the devil was in the details, if not in all of us: “We who came to stare only see ourselves.” Or through ourselves. He notes the shabbiness of Mr. Hyde’s tailcoat, and the yak-hair transplants on the Wolfman’s face. Also important: “a sinister sofa,” controlled by an underground switchboard operated by a man in a wig. And Frankenstein’s homunculus, taken out by a falling crossbeam no fewer than four times in his film career. These images were filtered through words I’d just discovered. Until last week, I had never actually read the most important book of my childhood. The text had gone unseen. My mother had given A Pictorial History of Horror Movies to my brothers as a Christmas gift in 1973. She still cheerily refers to it as “that book with the girl with the hatchet in her head.” I was forbidden to read it but was never told I couldn’t look at it. Read More