I am unable to articulate why this kind of thing is so tremendously fascinating, so I'll just provide a snapshot and a link to a new book from the Found crew that is filled with portrait photography from a small studio in LaPorte, Indiana.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
New Found Photography Book
I am unable to articulate why this kind of thing is so tremendously fascinating, so I'll just provide a snapshot and a link to a new book from the Found crew that is filled with portrait photography from a small studio in LaPorte, Indiana.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Culture 1, Hipsters 0
Two recent articles, one exclusive to print, worth checking out. The first is in n + 1, a New York journal and is called
Radiohead, or the Philosophy of Pop and is by Mark Greif.
I think the discussion of Radiohead is sharp, especially when Greif observes that Radiohead found its voice and purpose when it stopped trying to articulate its frustration with modernity through its lyrics (the Fake Plastic Trees of The Bends), and instead found a way to evoke dread and suspicion with the plastic hassle through aural textures. Still, what delights me so much about this article is not the Radiohead analysis (I’m sure a dozen music-crits have already jabbed cigarette burns throughout his musical conjecturing, but that is a game I find both boring and difficult to play) but Greif’s brave and refreshing decision to describe the limitations of pop as it applies to politics. Check this out:
The more I try to categorize why Radiohead’s music works as it does, and by extension how pop works, the more it seems clear that the effect of pop on our beliefs and actions is not really to create either one. Pop does, though, I think, allow you to retain certain things you’ve already thought, without your necessarily having been able to articulate them, and to preserve certain feelings you have only intermittent access to, in a different form, music with lyrics, in which the cognitive and emotional are less divided. I think songs allow you to steel yourself or loosen yourself into certain kinds of actions, though they don’t start anything. And the particular songs and bands you like dictate the beliefs you can preserve and reactivate, and the actions you can prepare – and which songs and careers will shape your inchoate private experience depends on an alchemy of your experience and the art itself. Pop is neither a mirror nor a Rorschach blot, into which you look and see only yourself; nor is it a lecture, an interpretable poem, or an act of simply determinate speech. It teaches something, but only by stimulating and preserving things that you must have had inaugurated elsewhere. Or it prepares the ground for these discoveries elsewhere – often knowledge you might never otherwise have really “known,” except as it could be rehearsed by you, then repeatedly reactivated for you, in this medium.
This was, for me, an incredible blast of oxygen. I don’t care if he is right or wrong, but unlike so many other cultural critics, he actually has the courage to sketch the political boundaries of his object of study. Summarizing Grief’s 17-page article, is tough, so all I can say is find a copy and read it.
The second article can be found in the March edition of Harper’s. Many folks make snoozing sounds when referring to this magazine, and lately I understand why. That said, there is always something good in Harper’s.
Really.
In an attempt to prove my point, I ask you to take a look at the first part of Bill Wasik’s article about flash mobs. Wasik, it turns out, invented the flash mob as an experiment in social psychology. His article mocks the conformity of hipsters, the Strokes, and Wasik hammers away at a number of other worthwhile targets, including the Ford Fusion. His inclusion of Howard Dean didn’t quite work, and I started to sigh when he began to discuss the Milgram experiments, until he did something new with the ol’ shock generator by claiming that:
Stanley Milgram deserves recognition, I believe, as one of the crucial artists of the preceding century.
Here is a good tip for any essayist: if you evoke an overused person or idea from the past, please put a new gloss on it. Otherwise I will stop reading. And so will many others.
Finally, I like Wasik’s attack on McSweeney’s:
Like the Strokes, McSweeney’s promised a cultural watershed for hipsters while making no demands on them. Readers accustomed to a choice between low entertainment and serious literature did not, with this journal, have to make such a choice at all. […] Almost none of the young writers could deploy McSweeney’s style to anywhere near the effect that Eggers, a genuinely affecting writer, could; one suspects that most would have been better (if less well known) writers today if the journal had never existed.
Class dismissed. Be sure to have read both articles for next week.
Radiohead, or the Philosophy of Pop and is by Mark Greif.
I think the discussion of Radiohead is sharp, especially when Greif observes that Radiohead found its voice and purpose when it stopped trying to articulate its frustration with modernity through its lyrics (the Fake Plastic Trees of The Bends), and instead found a way to evoke dread and suspicion with the plastic hassle through aural textures. Still, what delights me so much about this article is not the Radiohead analysis (I’m sure a dozen music-crits have already jabbed cigarette burns throughout his musical conjecturing, but that is a game I find both boring and difficult to play) but Greif’s brave and refreshing decision to describe the limitations of pop as it applies to politics. Check this out:
The more I try to categorize why Radiohead’s music works as it does, and by extension how pop works, the more it seems clear that the effect of pop on our beliefs and actions is not really to create either one. Pop does, though, I think, allow you to retain certain things you’ve already thought, without your necessarily having been able to articulate them, and to preserve certain feelings you have only intermittent access to, in a different form, music with lyrics, in which the cognitive and emotional are less divided. I think songs allow you to steel yourself or loosen yourself into certain kinds of actions, though they don’t start anything. And the particular songs and bands you like dictate the beliefs you can preserve and reactivate, and the actions you can prepare – and which songs and careers will shape your inchoate private experience depends on an alchemy of your experience and the art itself. Pop is neither a mirror nor a Rorschach blot, into which you look and see only yourself; nor is it a lecture, an interpretable poem, or an act of simply determinate speech. It teaches something, but only by stimulating and preserving things that you must have had inaugurated elsewhere. Or it prepares the ground for these discoveries elsewhere – often knowledge you might never otherwise have really “known,” except as it could be rehearsed by you, then repeatedly reactivated for you, in this medium.
This was, for me, an incredible blast of oxygen. I don’t care if he is right or wrong, but unlike so many other cultural critics, he actually has the courage to sketch the political boundaries of his object of study. Summarizing Grief’s 17-page article, is tough, so all I can say is find a copy and read it.
The second article can be found in the March edition of Harper’s. Many folks make snoozing sounds when referring to this magazine, and lately I understand why. That said, there is always something good in Harper’s.
Really.
In an attempt to prove my point, I ask you to take a look at the first part of Bill Wasik’s article about flash mobs. Wasik, it turns out, invented the flash mob as an experiment in social psychology. His article mocks the conformity of hipsters, the Strokes, and Wasik hammers away at a number of other worthwhile targets, including the Ford Fusion. His inclusion of Howard Dean didn’t quite work, and I started to sigh when he began to discuss the Milgram experiments, until he did something new with the ol’ shock generator by claiming that:
Stanley Milgram deserves recognition, I believe, as one of the crucial artists of the preceding century.
Here is a good tip for any essayist: if you evoke an overused person or idea from the past, please put a new gloss on it. Otherwise I will stop reading. And so will many others.
Finally, I like Wasik’s attack on McSweeney’s:
Like the Strokes, McSweeney’s promised a cultural watershed for hipsters while making no demands on them. Readers accustomed to a choice between low entertainment and serious literature did not, with this journal, have to make such a choice at all. […] Almost none of the young writers could deploy McSweeney’s style to anywhere near the effect that Eggers, a genuinely affecting writer, could; one suspects that most would have been better (if less well known) writers today if the journal had never existed.
Class dismissed. Be sure to have read both articles for next week.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Cleverly Obtuse Title Utilizing Pun Goes Here
Nathan Sellyn’s debut fiction collection Indigenous Beasts comes out next month. I was flipping through the Raincoast Spring 2006 catalogue today and his book caught my eye. The cover looks sharp, and my bet is that the fiction inside is none-too-shabby.
However, I cannot help but notice that the bottom left corner of the cover image printed in the catalogue contains the following text:
“This is an amazing quote saying Nate is the Next Big Thing.”
SOME FAMOUS AUTHOR
(Full PDF here.)
I will buy five copies of his book if the final, printed book cover actually says that.
Snakes on a Plane
The amount of debate in the blogoblog about my book review -- in which I suggested what’s-her-name is the worst writer of Generation Why -- took me by surprise.
As someone who doesn’t spend nearly as much time as he should reading local blogs, I have been very impressed by the intelligence and level of debate floating around the internets. I am also very humbled by the dedication many bloggers have, in terms of their publishing schedule.
Habermas would be proud.
What I found most interesting was that by the time a print media response to the book review hit stands on Thursday, February 16 (that would the day I discovered I was Mr. Warren Kinsella's chew toy), the various elements of the issue had already been very thoroughly and thoughtfully debated and digested online. Blogs rule OK!
I did not think for a moment that anyone would waste ink and pulp on the issue. One or two blog postings, maybe. A short paragraph in Frank, perhaps. But not this.
The incident just made its way into Now, in their Upfront section. I feel as though I have been scalded with lukewarm water. This new (and I hope final) wave of commentary appears to be the result of the Star’s clarification on Sunday (February 19), which explained that I was not an unbiased, objective reviewer. This should have been made explicit in the original review, as many people have pointed out. There was a miscommunication between my editor and myself regarding the conflict of interest, which I regret.
To conclude, I have a few corrections and comments I would like to make, before never mentioning the whole mess ever again. None of my bulleted points are designed to provoke further debate, since one of the main goals of the review was to encourage everyone to stop talking about her. (I failed big time on that front.) These are observations, not provocations.
* Kinsella, in his February 16 column, suggests that SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene is not a real word. Let me be clear: I consulted with a native German speaker, and I can assure you that SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene is a compound word that translates, roughly, into exactly what I said it does.
* Kinsella mentions a photo on my website where I am wearing black nail polish. That photo was taken five years ago. I will endeavor to update my website appropriately.
* Alex Good, over at Good Reports, strikes me as someone that I would enjoy having a coffee with and discussing his frustrations with book reviewing in Canada. I realize he is not my biggest fan, but that’s OK. I agree with some of his complaints, as they appear to echo Henighan’s sentiments in When Words Deny the World, a book that I like far more than I dislike.
* I was very pleased to see someone mention Andy Lamey’s debilitating book review of Crossing the Distance, a review which ran in issue #56 (1999) of Canadian Notes & Queries. Lamey’s review should be taught in university lit-crit classes – it is simply that good. Dale Peck could learn things from Lamey. If my recent review was considered one-third as good as Lamey’s, I would be happy. (A few blogs suggested it was not even close on that score.)
* As I get older, I find that anonymous (or non-anonymous) critiques and even cheap shots bother me far less. In fact, I was heartened to learn that some people don’t care about either me or her -- or, even better, have no inkling of who either of us are. That is healthy. That is good. That puts things in the proper perspective. As another person commented, this is a topic interesting only to a select group of Toronto media folk who live within a 10 or 15 block radius of each other. Here here.
I can only imagine what I am in for if I ever manage to publish another book. In lieu of a written critique, I envision a photograph of the assigned reviewer urinating on my tome.
As someone who doesn’t spend nearly as much time as he should reading local blogs, I have been very impressed by the intelligence and level of debate floating around the internets. I am also very humbled by the dedication many bloggers have, in terms of their publishing schedule.
Habermas would be proud.
What I found most interesting was that by the time a print media response to the book review hit stands on Thursday, February 16 (that would the day I discovered I was Mr. Warren Kinsella's chew toy), the various elements of the issue had already been very thoroughly and thoughtfully debated and digested online. Blogs rule OK!
I did not think for a moment that anyone would waste ink and pulp on the issue. One or two blog postings, maybe. A short paragraph in Frank, perhaps. But not this.
The incident just made its way into Now, in their Upfront section. I feel as though I have been scalded with lukewarm water. This new (and I hope final) wave of commentary appears to be the result of the Star’s clarification on Sunday (February 19), which explained that I was not an unbiased, objective reviewer. This should have been made explicit in the original review, as many people have pointed out. There was a miscommunication between my editor and myself regarding the conflict of interest, which I regret.
To conclude, I have a few corrections and comments I would like to make, before never mentioning the whole mess ever again. None of my bulleted points are designed to provoke further debate, since one of the main goals of the review was to encourage everyone to stop talking about her. (I failed big time on that front.) These are observations, not provocations.
* Kinsella, in his February 16 column, suggests that SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene is not a real word. Let me be clear: I consulted with a native German speaker, and I can assure you that SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene is a compound word that translates, roughly, into exactly what I said it does.
* Kinsella mentions a photo on my website where I am wearing black nail polish. That photo was taken five years ago. I will endeavor to update my website appropriately.
* Alex Good, over at Good Reports, strikes me as someone that I would enjoy having a coffee with and discussing his frustrations with book reviewing in Canada. I realize he is not my biggest fan, but that’s OK. I agree with some of his complaints, as they appear to echo Henighan’s sentiments in When Words Deny the World, a book that I like far more than I dislike.
* I was very pleased to see someone mention Andy Lamey’s debilitating book review of Crossing the Distance, a review which ran in issue #56 (1999) of Canadian Notes & Queries. Lamey’s review should be taught in university lit-crit classes – it is simply that good. Dale Peck could learn things from Lamey. If my recent review was considered one-third as good as Lamey’s, I would be happy. (A few blogs suggested it was not even close on that score.)
* As I get older, I find that anonymous (or non-anonymous) critiques and even cheap shots bother me far less. In fact, I was heartened to learn that some people don’t care about either me or her -- or, even better, have no inkling of who either of us are. That is healthy. That is good. That puts things in the proper perspective. As another person commented, this is a topic interesting only to a select group of Toronto media folk who live within a 10 or 15 block radius of each other. Here here.
I can only imagine what I am in for if I ever manage to publish another book. In lieu of a written critique, I envision a photograph of the assigned reviewer urinating on my tome.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
What You Should Have Missed...
Bookninja has a thorough summary of the past two days, although it omits the paved.ca entry. The Quill and Quire blog has a very funny and balanced entry up right now, but their blogging software does not appear to permit direct links to individual article entries. Their entry concludes:
Do these two know each other? Couldn’t McLaren, who has now written of a childless woman, have had sympathy instead of vitriol for the perpetually single Bigge? One thing seems clear: riffling through the discount tables at Pages the other day, In Other Media found copies of Bigge’s book. We can all be somewhat sure that, someday, in that very same spot, will be McLaren’s. So can’t we all just get along?
I would point out that it took four years for my book to end up in the remainder bin. But Quill's geography is quite accurate. Oh, and I'm no longer single.
By the way, if Oprah (or the Canadian equivalent therein) demands it, I will appear on her show and weep on cue.
Do these two know each other? Couldn’t McLaren, who has now written of a childless woman, have had sympathy instead of vitriol for the perpetually single Bigge? One thing seems clear: riffling through the discount tables at Pages the other day, In Other Media found copies of Bigge’s book. We can all be somewhat sure that, someday, in that very same spot, will be McLaren’s. So can’t we all just get along?
I would point out that it took four years for my book to end up in the remainder bin. But Quill's geography is quite accurate. Oh, and I'm no longer single.
By the way, if Oprah (or the Canadian equivalent therein) demands it, I will appear on her show and weep on cue.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
The First Draft of History Dept.
The Star had the good sense to edit my review of Leah’s new “book.” I’m not being facetious – good editors are like the senate, a repository of sober, second thought.
But lucky for you, dear reader, I lack the good sense to keep the first draft sequestered away in a lock box, and will thus provide for you at no extra charge the original Leah review in all its knives out glory.
The Continuity Girl by Leah McLaren, HarperCollins, 336 pages, $18.95
Many creative writing instructors employ the Sandwich Method when providing student feedback: a slice of praise, followed by the “meat” (the critical suggestions), followed by a final slab of positive reinforcement.
[Pause]
Ahem.
[Pause]
Well … the typesetting in Leah McLaren’s new novel is certainly praiseworthy. The font selected, Electra, is an eye-pleasing serif. Unfortunately, poor Electra has endured unspeakable molestation courtesy of McLaren’s prose:
He owed her this baby, but that was not the only reason he was here in this phoneless phone booth, cock in hand, pumping away (well, okay, more squeezing and pulling, at this point), trying to draft a few million able-bodied DNA servicemen. No, the truth was, he wanted a child as much as she did, but for entirely different reasons. Not for the cutsy clothes and mashed banana stuff, which was as frightening as it was a turnoff, but for the continuation of the larger narrative.
The Continuity Girl illuminates the limitations of my thesaurus. Uber-lousy? Fifth-rate? Super-bad? None of above. There exists no English word that adequately describes the residuum, offal and drek that slosh through the pages of this novel. Even the German word SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene, which roughly translates into “putrid garbage typewriter prose,” fails to convey the stench of this slushpile.
Lacking the tools to adequately assess this book, I am donating my allotted real estate to the other reviewers sharing this page. This strategy will deprive McLaren of the crucial element that sustains her entire oeuvre – attention. Each week that spoiled brat throws an entitlement tantrum in her Globe column, and each week far too many people eavesdrop. Her fishwrap is ostensibly harmless, but this brand extension disguised as a novel is where it ends: the joke isn’t funny anymore, especially at $18.95 plus tax. McLaren is a provocative pool toy that is kept inflated only by the warm air of the chattering classes. Stop reading her SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene, stop talking about her between sips at the water cooler, and she will soon shrivel into nothingness. It’s that simple.
Before I can take my leave, I must provide a final slice for my book review sandwich, but finding another praise-worthy element of The Continuity Girl is the most difficult task this humble reviewer has ever encountered. I finally discovered that which I required in Stephen King’s book On Writing. “One learns most clearly what not to do by reading bad prose,” he writes, explaining that one novel like Valley of the Dolls or Flowers in the Attic “is worth a semester at a good writing school, even with the superstar guest lecturers thrown in.”
If King is correct, then reading Ms. McLaren’s new novel is equivalent to a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing.
From Oxford.
But lucky for you, dear reader, I lack the good sense to keep the first draft sequestered away in a lock box, and will thus provide for you at no extra charge the original Leah review in all its knives out glory.
The Continuity Girl by Leah McLaren, HarperCollins, 336 pages, $18.95
Many creative writing instructors employ the Sandwich Method when providing student feedback: a slice of praise, followed by the “meat” (the critical suggestions), followed by a final slab of positive reinforcement.
[Pause]
Ahem.
[Pause]
Well … the typesetting in Leah McLaren’s new novel is certainly praiseworthy. The font selected, Electra, is an eye-pleasing serif. Unfortunately, poor Electra has endured unspeakable molestation courtesy of McLaren’s prose:
He owed her this baby, but that was not the only reason he was here in this phoneless phone booth, cock in hand, pumping away (well, okay, more squeezing and pulling, at this point), trying to draft a few million able-bodied DNA servicemen. No, the truth was, he wanted a child as much as she did, but for entirely different reasons. Not for the cutsy clothes and mashed banana stuff, which was as frightening as it was a turnoff, but for the continuation of the larger narrative.
The Continuity Girl illuminates the limitations of my thesaurus. Uber-lousy? Fifth-rate? Super-bad? None of above. There exists no English word that adequately describes the residuum, offal and drek that slosh through the pages of this novel. Even the German word SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene, which roughly translates into “putrid garbage typewriter prose,” fails to convey the stench of this slushpile.
Lacking the tools to adequately assess this book, I am donating my allotted real estate to the other reviewers sharing this page. This strategy will deprive McLaren of the crucial element that sustains her entire oeuvre – attention. Each week that spoiled brat throws an entitlement tantrum in her Globe column, and each week far too many people eavesdrop. Her fishwrap is ostensibly harmless, but this brand extension disguised as a novel is where it ends: the joke isn’t funny anymore, especially at $18.95 plus tax. McLaren is a provocative pool toy that is kept inflated only by the warm air of the chattering classes. Stop reading her SaumassigeSchreibmaschiene, stop talking about her between sips at the water cooler, and she will soon shrivel into nothingness. It’s that simple.
Before I can take my leave, I must provide a final slice for my book review sandwich, but finding another praise-worthy element of The Continuity Girl is the most difficult task this humble reviewer has ever encountered. I finally discovered that which I required in Stephen King’s book On Writing. “One learns most clearly what not to do by reading bad prose,” he writes, explaining that one novel like Valley of the Dolls or Flowers in the Attic “is worth a semester at a good writing school, even with the superstar guest lecturers thrown in.”
If King is correct, then reading Ms. McLaren’s new novel is equivalent to a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing.
From Oxford.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Mister & Mr. Smith
Russell Smith makes a worthwhile point in last week’s (October 20) column:
I am surprised, although I suppose I shouldn't be, that there has been so little Canadian media reflection of the whirling literary discussion in the United States right now, as provoked by Ben Marcus's savaging of Jonathan Franzen in this month's Harper's. It's an important piece of writing, published in a mainstream magazine, about the merit of experimental fiction as opposed to what Marcus calls "realist" fiction.
(Harper’s link here . Slate debunking the entire Marcus/Franzen debate here.)
He also rightly points out that ad hominem attacks are stupid. (Although he once called Noah Richler a ninny.) Anyway, the only place where I think Smith’s column lets us down is near the conclusion, where he explains why there has been so little media reflection about the Marcus vs. Franzen:
At any rate, the whole thing is both invigorating and somewhat scary for a Canadian: I don't think we need more personal nastiness of this sort, but we could benefit from robust debate about the role and value of different styles.
The thing is, we don't really have schools of writing here.
His argument is that, unlike in the United States, our avant-garde fictioneers make absolutely no ping on the radar, so they will never be in danger of being attacked. They are protected by their invisibility.
A few things about this. First, I think Smith completely overlooks the contribution of Coach House, who has done a good job to maintain debate and attention on avant-garde works. Avant-garde for Thee and Biting the Error come to mind, and there are many others. I think there is more of an avant-garde tradition in Canada then Smith lets on. And Smith knows this, but it makes for a better column to argue that we are culturally impoverished as compared to our US neighbours.
A far more problematic oversight is that Smith, in expressing surprise that no Canadian media reflection has occurred about the Marcus and Mothra battle, fails to tells us: Where exactly might such a reflection occur?
Monthly magazines like the Walrus, Toro, Saturday Night (which is now dead) are planned well in advance. The only outlets able to respond quickly to the Marcus article (which is now off the stands, as I just received my November Harper’s in the mail) are newspapers or websites. And since Harper’s provided only an excerpt on its website, Canadian blogs (Bookninja comes to mind) might not have been able to respond as they might have liked.
The Ideas section of the Sunday Star could have tackled the Marcus article. Or the National Post. An essay in the Globe and Mail books section might have been good, but the books section doesn’t run many essays anymore. But unless I’m overlooking some other print media whose publishing schedule is limber enough to rapidly respond to an interesting literary debate, it really isn’t that much of a shock that an article in Harper’s about two American fiction writers lacks a Canadian vehicle for its debate or dissemination. Dare I say, Russell, that it appears that you are complaining about something that falls squarely into your job description as a cultural columnist for the Globe and Mail?
Instead of expressing disingenuous surprise that no one leapt at the chance to discuss the Marcus article, Smith should focus on writing about the debate at length, full stop. It is probably a far more effective rhetorical technique to attempt to start the debate about a worthwhile article than fling the martyr shawl about one’s shoulders and sigh about the silence. I feel confident that it is not an ad hominem to suggest that Smith appears much smarter than that.
I am surprised, although I suppose I shouldn't be, that there has been so little Canadian media reflection of the whirling literary discussion in the United States right now, as provoked by Ben Marcus's savaging of Jonathan Franzen in this month's Harper's. It's an important piece of writing, published in a mainstream magazine, about the merit of experimental fiction as opposed to what Marcus calls "realist" fiction.
(Harper’s link here . Slate debunking the entire Marcus/Franzen debate here.)
He also rightly points out that ad hominem attacks are stupid. (Although he once called Noah Richler a ninny.) Anyway, the only place where I think Smith’s column lets us down is near the conclusion, where he explains why there has been so little media reflection about the Marcus vs. Franzen:
At any rate, the whole thing is both invigorating and somewhat scary for a Canadian: I don't think we need more personal nastiness of this sort, but we could benefit from robust debate about the role and value of different styles.
The thing is, we don't really have schools of writing here.
His argument is that, unlike in the United States, our avant-garde fictioneers make absolutely no ping on the radar, so they will never be in danger of being attacked. They are protected by their invisibility.
A few things about this. First, I think Smith completely overlooks the contribution of Coach House, who has done a good job to maintain debate and attention on avant-garde works. Avant-garde for Thee and Biting the Error come to mind, and there are many others. I think there is more of an avant-garde tradition in Canada then Smith lets on. And Smith knows this, but it makes for a better column to argue that we are culturally impoverished as compared to our US neighbours.
A far more problematic oversight is that Smith, in expressing surprise that no Canadian media reflection has occurred about the Marcus and Mothra battle, fails to tells us: Where exactly might such a reflection occur?
Monthly magazines like the Walrus, Toro, Saturday Night (which is now dead) are planned well in advance. The only outlets able to respond quickly to the Marcus article (which is now off the stands, as I just received my November Harper’s in the mail) are newspapers or websites. And since Harper’s provided only an excerpt on its website, Canadian blogs (Bookninja comes to mind) might not have been able to respond as they might have liked.
The Ideas section of the Sunday Star could have tackled the Marcus article. Or the National Post. An essay in the Globe and Mail books section might have been good, but the books section doesn’t run many essays anymore. But unless I’m overlooking some other print media whose publishing schedule is limber enough to rapidly respond to an interesting literary debate, it really isn’t that much of a shock that an article in Harper’s about two American fiction writers lacks a Canadian vehicle for its debate or dissemination. Dare I say, Russell, that it appears that you are complaining about something that falls squarely into your job description as a cultural columnist for the Globe and Mail?
Instead of expressing disingenuous surprise that no one leapt at the chance to discuss the Marcus article, Smith should focus on writing about the debate at length, full stop. It is probably a far more effective rhetorical technique to attempt to start the debate about a worthwhile article than fling the martyr shawl about one’s shoulders and sigh about the silence. I feel confident that it is not an ad hominem to suggest that Smith appears much smarter than that.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Globe(al) Politics
Two things:
One, I did not misspell “lounges” in the David Rakoff review I sent to the Globe that ran on Saturday. They decided to change it to “longues.”
Secondly, I learnt that “bitch-slap” is a verboten word at the Globe. More precisely, it’s proscribed, which, according to my editor, means that “it is one of several words listed in the Style Book as not ever to appear in the paper except when approved by a committee of senior managers including the publisher.” I’m not complaining about the word being removed since it is, you know, rather offensive. (I plead context, which may or may not be sufficient – there is such a fine line between clever and stupid.) I’m far more interested in discovering what the other proscribed Globe words might be.
Click here for a bitch-slapping lounge version of the review that also includes the original bio I sent to the Globe, which they refused to print.
One, I did not misspell “lounges” in the David Rakoff review I sent to the Globe that ran on Saturday. They decided to change it to “longues.”
Secondly, I learnt that “bitch-slap” is a verboten word at the Globe. More precisely, it’s proscribed, which, according to my editor, means that “it is one of several words listed in the Style Book as not ever to appear in the paper except when approved by a committee of senior managers including the publisher.” I’m not complaining about the word being removed since it is, you know, rather offensive. (I plead context, which may or may not be sufficient – there is such a fine line between clever and stupid.) I’m far more interested in discovering what the other proscribed Globe words might be.
Click here for a bitch-slapping lounge version of the review that also includes the original bio I sent to the Globe, which they refused to print.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Pleased to Miso
Toronto Life asked me to investigate that clump of sushi restaurants on Bloor for their October issue. But they had to remove a fair amount of "content" due to space restrictions. I felt that sharing the wealth might be appropriate, given the semi-eternal fascination many folks have with Maki Mile.
(Due to the fact that I am doing a Master’s, blogging will be very rare. Try not to cry.)
Kappa Kappa Hey!
(Alternate titles: Pleased to Miso / Rice Dreams / Tipping the Scales)
(Due to the fact that I am doing a Master’s, blogging will be very rare. Try not to cry.)
Kappa Kappa Hey!
(Alternate titles: Pleased to Miso / Rice Dreams / Tipping the Scales)
Unless tuna, salmon and eel swim wild and free in Annex sewers, there appears no satisfying explanation for why the five short blocks of Bloor between Bathurst and Spadina are home to eight different seaweed palaces. If sushi is an indicator of urban sophistication, than this "Maki Mile" is surely the most hyper-modern stretch of downtown Toronto. Turning a profit off deadbeat students buying $5.99 lunch specials was already tough enough; the increasing density of competition has created a bento boxing match sure to generate casualties. Moving from Best to Bleech, herewith is the raw data on the ocean’s eight.
Name: Sushi on Bloor (515 Bloor)
Date of Birth: December 1998
Distinguishing décor: Simple, unadorned beige walls are enlivened with a smattering of tapestries and ricepaper wall lights. A ceramic Asahi beer mascot (a.k.a. Super Lucky Cat) grins at diners from its perch on a glass shelf on the restaurant’s rear wall.
Sardine Factor: Half-full 20 minutes after opening; completely full, plus line-up by 12:45pm
Chef’s Specialty: Ikayaki (grilled squid with fresh ginger sauce)
McSushi Moment: Honour Roll (salmon, tobiko, green onion, avocado)
Cost of California Roll: $5 for six pieces
Menu Malprop: Superior proofreading makes this menu a gastronomic and grammarian delight
Name: Sushi Time (394 Bloor)
Date of Birth: July 1989
Distinguishing décor: An empty sushi rice bag dangles from the ceiling, Japanese lanterns decorate the bamboo roof that shelters the food prep area. Recessed lighting is embedded within incut ceiling outlines of chopsticks. Also boasts Teppanyaki (Japanese grill house).
Sardine Factor: A dozen folks supped on a rainy lunch hour weekday.
Chef’s Specialty: Flying Saucer (spicy tuna over tempura eggplant
McSushi Moment: Football Sashimi / Basketball Bento Box
Cost of California Roll: $4.75 for six pieces
Menu Malprop: "$1 extra per change," warns the Dadaist menu, "Subject to adjustment over ingredients."
Name: New Generation (493 Bloor)
Date of Birth: August 1999
Distinguishing décor: Accents include frosted glass booth partitions, muted blue light fixtures, Japanese tapestries and Kabuki prints. Sake tchotchkes cluster upon a wall shelf behind sushi prep area. A large inflatable Sapporo bottle guards the entrance to the rear kitchen
Sardine Factor: Never empty, often full.
Chef’s Specialty: Scarlett O’Hara (assorted fish chopped, spiced, green onion, bonito flakes)
McSushi Moment: Sushi Pizza (crispy rice topped spicy kewpie, tobiko, onion, green onion, choice of salmon, tuna, unagi & vegetarian)
Cost of California Roll: $4.95 for eight pieces
Menu Malprop: Lightly fried *beancurb*
Name: Tokyo Sushi (364 Bloor)
Date of Birth: April 1997
Distinguishing décor: Two private rooms, plus a number of intimate wooden booths create a cozy ambiance; servers and sushi chef wear traditional Japanese sashes and robes.
Sardine Factor: It took only 10 people to make this 40 seat restaurant appear busy on a Wednesday afternoon.
Chef’s Specialty: Kanpyo Yomaki (Stewed Melon)
McSushi Moment: Tokyo Love Boat, a dingy filled with 50 pieces of sashimi and sushi
Cost of California Roll: $5.50 for six pieces
Menu Malprop: long *isialn* clam
Name: Japan Sushi (484 Bloor)
Date of Birth: July 2001
Distinguishing décor: The only sushi restaurant of the bunch with a patio. Front window decorated with cascading streamers of tiny paper cranes. Shiny fresh tins of Sapporo balance atop long wooden benches that line both sides of this cozy restaurant.
Sardine Factor: Six-seat patio very popular; 30-seat restaurant was 1/4 full on a balmy Saturday afternoon.
Chef’s Specialty: Green, Red or Black Dragon Maki
McSushi Moment: Skydome Roll (deep fried shrimp)
Cost of California Roll: $5 for six pieces
Menu Malprop: A vegetable roll features seasonal *aspragus*
Name: Takomi Sushi (522 Bloor)
Date of Birth: January 2005
Distinguishing decor: Elegant touches include embossed red leather menus, mood lighting, dark wood tables plus first class bento boxes and ultramodern stainless steel soy sauce receptacles.
Sardine Factor: Four folks warmed the seats at 1pm on a Tuesday.
Chef’s Specialty: Canadian Dream Roll (deep fried shrimp, salmon, avocado, cucumber, fish egg and crab meat).
McSushi Moment: Remarkably authentic, right down to the free watermelon dessert
Cost of California Roll: $4.50 for eight pieces
Menu Malprop: Drink list includes bottles of Cools Light. Tempura special includes deeping sauce. Takeout menu offers *chiken*, *slamon* and *robster* dishes.
Name: Big Sushi (388 Bloor)
Date of Birth: March 2005
Distinguishing décor: A surfeit of deep green vinyl booths and motel carpet give this restaurant a Holiday Inn vibe, although a couple of Japanese dolls and fish-shaped sushi plates valiantly attempt to redeem the vibe.
Sardine Factor: Eight people barely made a dent in this 70-seat restaurant on a weekday noontime
Chef’s Specialty: Caterpillar Roll (spicy tuna or salmon with avocado)
McSushi Moment: Philadelphia Roll (Philadelphia cheese, avocado, crabmeat, cucumber, flying fish egg).
Cost of California Roll: $5 for eight pieces
Menu Malprop: *Pen* fried U-don noodle with mixed chicken and vegetable
Name: Mariko (551 Bloor)
Date of Birth: January 2005
Distinguishing decor: Drab turquoise walls and cherry wood chairs predominate, with a few bamboo mobiles dangling from ceiling. Soy sauce is stored in ceramic spouts, massive water tumblers double as Big Gulp cups.
Sardine Factor: Ten percent of the 60-seat restaurant was occupied during the noonday rush
Chef’s Specialty: All-You-Can-Eat menu ($14.99) has over 65 items but also includes a draconian set of rules and regulations
McSushi Moment: Dessert menu includes cheesecake, an ancient Japanese delicacy
Cost of California Roll: $4.50 for six pieces
Menu Malprop: A lunch special includes three pieces of *carifolnia* roll
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
But, er, is the book any good?
(Emphasis added)
In case you thought that you had enough stock of THE COLLAPSE OF GLOBALISM, by John Ralston Saul (0670063673), this is just some advance notice of The kind of exposure we will be getting for this book!!!
We will kick off the launch with an excerpt in the Focus section of the Globe and Mail on the 21st May, followed by almost complete weekend book section review coverage, and trade, magazine and columnist coverage, the week of the 26th May. All of this will be complemented by a Globe and Mail ad, radio advertising with Jazz FM in Toronto, and a Walrus ad. To round off the mediums, we are targeting fifteen Canadian websites with information about this book, in order to reach our student market.
The following interviews will be pre-taped for airing 26th May, publication day...
CBC The Current, Macleans, Hamilton Spectator, ROB TV, CBC Newsworld, Calgary Herald, TVO-Allan Gregg and Company, Fine Print, Book TV, TVO's Big Ideas, CBC Ideas, Canadian Press, Ottawa Citizen, Embassy, Hill Times.
Combine this with a nine-city tour with media in each city -- Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Saskatoon, Calgary, Edmonton, Victoria, Vancouver and Whitehorse -- and we have a bestseller!!
So sure are we, that the first five people to respond to this email with their thoughts on when this book will appear on the Globe and Mail bestseller list, (staff and freelancers excluded), and are proved accurate, will receive an extra ten free copies to sell in their store!!!
Onwards, upwards!!!!
PenguinGroup Canada
In case you thought that you had enough stock of THE COLLAPSE OF GLOBALISM, by John Ralston Saul (0670063673), this is just some advance notice of The kind of exposure we will be getting for this book!!!
We will kick off the launch with an excerpt in the Focus section of the Globe and Mail on the 21st May, followed by almost complete weekend book section review coverage, and trade, magazine and columnist coverage, the week of the 26th May. All of this will be complemented by a Globe and Mail ad, radio advertising with Jazz FM in Toronto, and a Walrus ad. To round off the mediums, we are targeting fifteen Canadian websites with information about this book, in order to reach our student market.
The following interviews will be pre-taped for airing 26th May, publication day...
CBC The Current, Macleans, Hamilton Spectator, ROB TV, CBC Newsworld, Calgary Herald, TVO-Allan Gregg and Company, Fine Print, Book TV, TVO's Big Ideas, CBC Ideas, Canadian Press, Ottawa Citizen, Embassy, Hill Times.
Combine this with a nine-city tour with media in each city -- Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Saskatoon, Calgary, Edmonton, Victoria, Vancouver and Whitehorse -- and we have a bestseller!!
So sure are we, that the first five people to respond to this email with their thoughts on when this book will appear on the Globe and Mail bestseller list, (staff and freelancers excluded), and are proved accurate, will receive an extra ten free copies to sell in their store!!!
Onwards, upwards!!!!
PenguinGroup Canada
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