{"id":67692,"date":"2014-03-07T16:28:49","date_gmt":"2014-03-07T21:28:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=67692"},"modified":"2014-03-07T17:24:05","modified_gmt":"2014-03-07T22:24:05","slug":"what-were-loving-don-b-b-dole-ubackgrinder","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/03\/07\/what-were-loving-don-b-b-dole-ubackgrinder\/","title":{"rendered":"What We\u2019re Loving: Don B., B. Dole, \/u\/backgrinder"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"The_Archers_by_Bryson_Burroughs_-_Renwick_Gallery_-_DSC08383\"<\/a>

\u201cHow hard was it to supply archers arrows in ancient battles?\u201d Bryson Burroughs, The Archers<\/i>, 1917.<\/p><\/div>\n

Sozzled novelists (aka, lit lit) seems to be the thing to write about lately, but it\u2019s more fun to read great writers making fun of great writers drinking a lot. In one of his short pieces\u00a0originally written for\u00a0The New Yorker<\/i>\u2019s Notes and Comment section (more quotidian than Talk of the Town and funnier than Shouts and Murmurs, it\u2019s a section I wish they\u2019d revive), Donald Barthelme\u00a0describes having received a questionnaire<\/a> from\u00a0Writer\u2019s Digest<\/i>\u00a0that inquired about his drinking habits. Asked if he\u2019s a light, medium, heavy, or \u201cother\u201d drinker,\u00a0Barthelme\u00a0says medium: \u201cLight is sissy and Heavy doesn\u2019t go down so well with Deans, Loan Officers and Publishers, and who in the world would want to be Other?\u201d Only a few days before reading this gem, I\u2019d discovered Niccol\u00f2 Tucci\u2019s essay on drunkenness in issue 19 of The Paris Review<\/i><\/a>. Tucci starts by recounting a pop-sci study on the hangover. We\u2019d do well to heed one of its findings: \u201cAlcohol itself is perfectly harmless. It cannot be blamed for anything \u2026 not even for death. What kills you is malnutrition. Drinkers forget to eat. If they ate more, they could drink more. In fact, obesity kills more people than alcohol. People should eat much less.\u201d\u00a0\u2014Nicole Rudick<\/b><\/p>\n

Steve Jobs famously quipped, \u201cPeople don\u2019t know what they want until you show it to them\u201d\u2014which is often how I feel about the content I find on Reddit, the Internet\u2019s ultimate rabbit hole. Mastering the abbreviated jargon can take some time, but it\u2019s well worth the plunge; I tumbled in, head first, after\u00a0The Paris Review<\/i>\u2019s recent\u00a0AMA<\/a>. Take, for instance,\u00a0\/u\/backgrinder\u2019s response<\/a>\u00a0to the very reasonable, if incalculably arcane, question, \u201cHow hard was it to supply arrows to archers in ancient battles?\u201d (TL;DR: Surprisingly hard.) \u2014Stephen Andrew Hiltner<\/b><\/p>\n

I have Bob Dole\u2019s voice in my head, and it\u2019s Richard Ben Cramer\u2019s fault. \u201cDole\u2019s voice was made for the empty distance and mean wind of the prairie,\u201d Cramer writes in What It Takes: The Way to the White House<\/a><\/i>, his thousand-page opus on presidential politics, published in 1992. Cramer died last year, and I\u2019ve been meaning to delve into this book ever since\u2014for once, the promise of the flap copy is no exaggeration. \u201cAn American Iliad in the guise of contemporary political reportage, What It Takes<\/i> penetrates the mystery at the heart of all presidential campaigns: How do presumably ordinary people acquire that mixture of ambition, stamina, and pure shamelessness that makes a true candidate?\u201d In writing about it here, I\u2019ve bitten off more than I can chew; there\u2019s no way to convey how exhaustively researched it is, how lovingly chronicled, how immaculately well-written. All I can say is that it drove me not just to feel a deep kinship with someone like Bob Dole but to watch the entirety of a Dole debate from the eighties, and to enjoy it<\/i>. Publishers always like to claim that a given work of nonfiction \u201creads like a novel,\u201d and it\u2019s so seldom true\u2014but What It Takes<\/i> has the scope, pace, style, and psychological acuity of the best fiction. \u2014Dan Piepenbring <\/b><\/p>\n

Sorting through the contents of my childhood bedroom has yielded some unexpected surprises. (Pro tip: do NOT leave your chemistry set unattended for twenty years.) One of the most delightful unearthings was Joan Aiken\u2019s The Last Slice of Rainbow<\/a><\/i>, a book of children\u2019s stories that, as I flipped through it, I realized I could almost recite by heart. Here was the girl with the screaming hair, the terrifying tooth fairy, the spider in the bath (spoiler alert: it\u2019s enchanted!), the mischievous sea kelpie, and of course, the titular slice of rainbow that cannot be kept for long. Even if you\u2019ve long since moved out of your parents\u2019 house\u2014though no judgment if you\u2019ve since moved back in\u2014this collection will return you to the days of rock candy and model rockets. \u2014Rachel Abramowitz<\/b><\/p>\n

Andrew O\u2019Hagan\u2019s piece on Julian Assange<\/a>, in the March 6 edition of the London Review of Books<\/i>, tells the story of the failed autobiography that Assange sought to write, and for which publishers Knopf and Canongate collectively paid a $2.5 million advance. O\u2019Hagan was to be the ghostwriter of the book, and he spent a year or so in the inner fold of WikiLeaks in Norfolk, England, around 2011. The piece is also a deft portrait of Assange himself, and he comes off looking a bit like the deranged leader of a badly organized anarchist cult. O\u2019Hagan suggests that Assange is motivated \u201cnot by high principles\u201d as he constantly claims, \u201cbut by a deep sentimental wound\u201d; all his ideas about justice, freedom, and the individual and the state seem mutable and at times even convenient. Inquiring readers will find out that Assange eats with his hands and constantly thinks he is about to be assassinated. \u2014Anna Heyward<\/b><\/p>\n

Banksy who? In the seventies, long before \u201cstreet art\u201d became a thing, artists Larry Sultan and Mike Mandel were altering billboards<\/a> for the simple pleasure of mocking advertising. From nonsensical \u201coranges on fire\u201d to commentary on the current political situation, the project allowed the pair, under the name Clatworthy Colourvues, to reach an audience they would never find behind the walls of a museum. If you are in San Francisco, check out the \u201cWe Make You Us<\/a>\u201d exhibition at the Stephen Wirtz Gallery. It\u2019s a long way from the commissioned High Line Billboard<\/a> artwork of today. \u2014Justin Alvarez<\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sozzled novelists (aka, lit lit) seems to be the thing to write about lately, but it\u2019s more fun to read great writers making fun of great writers drinking a lot. In one of his short pieces\u00a0originally written for\u00a0The New Yorker\u2019s Notes and Comment section (more quotidian than Talk of the Town and funnier than Shouts […]<\/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":[1734,1427,13122,3994,13121,6871,13120],"class_list":["post-67692","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-andrew-ohagan","tag-donald-barthelme","tag-joan-aiken","tag-julian-assange","tag-niccolo-tucci","tag-reddit","tag-richard-ben-cramer"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We\u2019re Loving: Don B., B. 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