{"id":31864,"date":"2012-05-18T13:19:07","date_gmt":"2012-05-18T17:19:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=31864"},"modified":"2012-05-18T15:06:01","modified_gmt":"2012-05-18T19:06:01","slug":"what-were-loving-girls-cribs-and-literary-detective-work","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/05\/18\/what-were-loving-girls-cribs-and-literary-detective-work\/","title":{"rendered":"What We’re Loving: Girls<\/em>, Cribs, and Literary Detective Work"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

How often have you read a TV review by a writer of our generation and thought of Susan Sontag? It’s never happened to me\u2014until this week, when I read Elaine Blair\u2019s review of Girls<\/em><\/a> in The New York Review of Books<\/em>. By paying attention to one little sex scene, Blair makes deep arguments about sex scenes in general, the limits of romantic comedy, and the real meaning of sexual freedom. \u2014Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

\nAbout a decade ago, my friend Mikey loaned me a book he thought I\u2019d enjoy. I\u2019ve only just got around to picking it up. Though I\u2019m a bad friend, he isn\u2019t: the book\u2014Leonid Andreyev\u2019s The Little Angel<\/em><\/a>\u2014is terrific, after a fashion. The stories are intriguing, especially \u201cAt the Roadside Station\u201d and \u201cThe City,” but the translation is rather bad. I\u2019d love to see it revisited by another publisher and translator. I\u2019m looking at you, NYRB Books. And how about Natasha Randall? I loved her translations of We<\/em><\/a> and A Hero of Our Time<\/em>.<\/a> \u2014Nicole Rudick<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n For those with a green thumb and a love of literature, look no further than Writing the Garden: A Literary Conversation Across Two Centuries<\/a><\/em> for an insightful glimpse into garden writing over the last two-hundred years. Lush illustrations color the pages and accompany extensive excerpts from the writings of influential figures of gardening\u2019s past and present, such as Thomas Jefferson, Gertrude Jekyll, and Michael Pollan. Gain a little inspiration for your own beckoning plots, or simply get yourself excited for summer\u2019s peak. \u2014Elizabeth Nelson<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\nI was so ready to give up on the Cribs. The addition of Johnny Marr to their last album, Ignore the Ignorant<\/em>, had a pointing-in-the-mirror, laughing-at-the lint-in-their-belly-button stupidity to it, which just goes to show that Johnny Marr ruins EVERYTHING. In the Belly of the Brazen Bull<\/em><\/a>not only returns the Cribs to their punk-rock roots but shows a maturation that hasn\u2019t been present in previous albums. Songs like \u201cUptight\u201d and \u201cStalagmites\u201d start with the band\u2019s routine power chords and trash-banging drums, but evolve into beautiful heartfelt harmonies. And the postscriptish \u201cLike a Gift Giver\u201d reels along in a dreamy one-minute package. I have no problem predicting that it will prove to be one of the more complex and well-thought-out rock albums of this generation. \u2014Noah Wunsch<\/strong><\/p>\n

\nAs readers of the Daily know, there are plans in the works to revamp the New York Public Library. If you want a five-minute explanation\u2014from both sides\u2014of what\u2019s at stake, check out this week\u2019s Room for Debate<\/a> in The New York Times<\/em>. \u2014Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

For years, a thing that has bugged me is the claim made in David Markson\u2019s This Is Not a Novel<\/em><\/a> that \u201cthe last words of the original edition\u201d of Robert Burton\u2019s Anatomy of Melancholy<\/em> are \u201cFarewell and be kind.\u201d It\u2019s a beautiful phrase, and not without significance in Markson\u2019s own book, where it also serves as the last line. The novel\/poem\/essay (whatever Markson\u2019s book is) ends: \u201cThen I go out at night to paint the stars. \/ Says a Van Gogh letter. \/ Farewell and be kind.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at some early editions of Burton\u2019s book\u2014not the first (couldn\u2019t get access) but pretty early\u2014and didn\u2019t see the phrase anywhere, couldn\u2019t find it online\u2014except in references to This Is Not a Novel<\/em>. I\u2019d more or less concluded that Markson made it up\u2014would have been a good joke and right somehow, in the context of that work, for him to have planted a false clue\u2014but then I cribbed a password to Early English Books Online and got a look at the first, 1621 edition. Sure enough, at the very very end, there\u2019s a postscript or appendix titled \u201cConclusion to the Reader,\u201d and it ends \u201cVale & faue.\u201d I.e., Vale et fave. I.e., Farewell and be kind (or look kindly on me).<\/p>\n

\nJumping ahead a few years to the 1624 edition, the \u201cConclusion\u201d is gone, and the last section, \u201cCure of Despaire,\u201d ends instead with two different sign-offs, one in English and one in Latin: \u201cBe not alone, be not idle,\u201d and \u201cSPERATE MISERI, CAVETE F\u00e6LICES\u201d (\u201cLet the wretched take hope, and the happy beware\u201d\u2014from Horace, maybe? Or just an anonymous motto).<\/p>\n

On the basis of some cursory Google-booking, \u201cvale et fave\u201d was a known, if not exactly common, tag. Leibniz and Linnaeus both used it. <\/p>\n

\nWhat\u2019s sort of amazing and funny is that Markson has written this perfect English sentence (\u201cFarewell and be kind\u201d\u2014it sounds as elemental as \u201cI miss you\u201d or something, but you can\u2019t actually find it, naked like that, outside of This Is Not a Novel<\/em>), and he’s attributed it to Burton\u2019s book, which is, after all, a great work of English literature (though macaronically strewn throughout with Latin). But Burton never wrote that sentence. He wrote \u201cVale & faue,\u201d and didn\u2019t really even write that; he was just using a charming if slightly recherch\u00e9 formal expression he\u2019d seen. Seeming to flaunt his allusiveness, Markson conceals his inventiveness. \u2014John Jeremiah Sullivan<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How often have you read a TV review by a writer of our generation and thought of Susan Sontag? It’s never happened to me\u2014until this week, when I read Elaine Blair\u2019s review of Girls in The New York Review of Books. By paying attention to one little sex scene, Blair makes deep arguments about sex […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[7596,7239,4158,7470,6677,7593,7594,1494,104,6412,2390,501,7595,7592],"class_list":["post-31864","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-anatomy-of-melancholy","tag-david-markson","tag-elaine-blair","tag-gardening","tag-girls","tag-leonid-andreyev","tag-natasha-randall","tag-new-york-times","tag-nypl","tag-punk","tag-robert-burton","tag-susan-sontag","tag-the-cribs","tag-tv"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We're Loving: Girls, Cribs, and Literary Detective Work by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"May 18, 2012 \u2013 How often have you read a TV review by a writer of our generation and thought of Susan Sontag? 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