Drunk Literature

Hey Google Reader Subscribers!

2010-03-04T13:24:00.000-05:00

Just a friendly reminder to update your subscriptions to drunkliterature.com, rather than the Blogspot address.

Photo by Desiree Delgado

I'm Moving!

2010-03-03T19:06:00.000-05:00

Drunk Literature can now be found at drunkliterature.com. This site should automatically re-direct you, but please be sure to update your subscriptions!

Caution: Extreme Awesomeness

2010-03-03T13:15:00.000-05:00

Photo by rajeshvj

I am making a few tweaks to the site, so thanks in advance for your patience as I complete the process!

Internet Bones: Linky Links

2010-03-03T01:06:00.000-05:00

What I left behind in Florida. How can you say goodbye to that face?!

Finally back in the Northeast! I had such a wonderful time with my family down in Florida, and was sad to leave, but I'm home, now, and ready to get back to reality. Right now, I'm sitting here in my librarian glasses, crunching on a Vosges Gogi Bar, listening to Francoise Hardy croon "Amour n'as pas de chance ou si peu," and thinking, "Man, this is a good life." Of course, there are a few things that could make it better (grad school, perhaps?), but it's always neat to have those moments of clarity/contentment, n'est-ce pas?

Anyway, I opened up my Google Reader for the first time in about two weeks this evening, and was greeted with an overload of awesome blog/news/art/book articles to share. Here is a random selection of those things I had the time to look over before my eyes began to glaze.

Photo collage of Disney Kisses found vis misswallflower

1. Before boarding Delta Flight 2088 to Hartford, I made a pit stop at the news stand and grabbed an issue of this month's Vanity Fair, which is actually quite odd for me to do, because I don't believe I've ever actually read the magazine before. Its large, glossy cover always intimidated me, and I found the writing to be stuffy and a bit pretentious at times. However, it must have been kismet, because this issue spoke directly to my inner curious-child. Among its articles included an editorial where Christopher Hitchens, VF's resident book editor, writes about the dissemination of his aversion to audio books (I've always been anti-audiobooks, but my ridiculous Connecticut-to-Boston commute has caused me to reconsider). Next was an incredible profile on Ali MacGraw, of Love Story fame, one of the only celebrities I ever aspired to be like as a child (I loved her characters' naturalness and easy-confidence... along with killer fashion sense). However, the coup de gras of this entire issue was Patricia Zohn's article, "Coloring the Kingdom," which told the story of the women inkers and painters behind the early Disney animations. I was absolutely riveted (to my tiny coach-class seat) by the entire article. Through the 30s and 40s, Disney Corporation recruited hundreds of artistically-inclined women to spend pain-staking hours hunched over cels, tracing and coloring the animator's creations to life-like perfection. It was a bizarre, difficult, and yet elegant and exciting production. Women would literally faint under their desks from exhaustion, they were paid miserably, and of course did not receive the same recognition or privileges that was awarded to their male counterparts. At the same time, the women interviewed in the article remarked just how thrilling it was to work for Disney. How the little Disney-idiosyncrasies, such as requiring the women to wear lady-like white gloves while doing their work, and the excitement when their first animated feature, Snow White, broke all the records, making their labor seem worth the pain and punishment. Disney, as a company, fascinates me, because it creates this world that is completely separate from reality, but entirely accepted by reality at the same time. Plus, I still tear up every time the Beast transforms into his princely self.

2. Jay Parini's The Last Station, a novel about Leo Tolstoy's last year, is at the top of my to-read list, after listening to this discussion on The Guardian's book blog.

3. As you may be able to tell, I have a lot of opinions about the current state and near-future of reading. As I read more, and see the concern of others, I'd like to point out two excellent posts. First, Stephanie of So Many Books, an extremely excellent literature and discussion blog, wrote a very well-written post where she, as a book-lover and Kindle owner (yes, the two are not mutually exclusive), expresses her concern over the state of technology and print publishing. Stephanie, like me, draws the conclusion that the publishing industry is trying to use the newest gadgets as lifesavers when, really, they're the icebergs that sunk the boat in the first place. The second blog post I'd like to pass on, is by Timothy Dahl of Dahlism. In his post, "Print to Digital: 5 Steps to Making the Move," he has five extremely sound tips on what print publishers (more so magazine and news publications) can do to keep from being obsolete. His steps seem to be complete common sense (Step 2. Blog.), but for whatever reason, some publishers still aren't getting with the program (or at least not in a way that seems to be beyond, "I'm doing this because I was told I'm supposed to). I would love to know if anyone else has found other articles on either side of the digital/print debate.

4. The Museum of Modern Celebrity Tweets is all parts awesome. Odessa Begay and Jordan Briendel created this site where they select their favorite celebrity tweets, and create a vibrant illustration to go along with it. I truly love the above drawing based on @neildiamond.

5. Robert F. Kennedy's psychedelic last Christmas card just sold for only $115. A bit morbid, but infinitely awesome

6. Coverspy tipped me off to the fact that one of my favorite books, Elizabeth Bowen's The Last September, was made into a movie starring Michael Gambon... in 1999. How did I miss these things?! (Granted, I was 15 then and not really paying attention to, well, anything beyond my hormones... but still?! I think this calls for a new Netflix list, based solely on book-to-film adaptations of my favorite classics.)

7. I am in love with this librarian print from Miss Brigitte on Etsy. Her illustrations are so coy and pretty.

8. Ridiculousness. How awesome would it be to have this gummy bear chandelier by Jellio hanging in your room? And how long would it be before you got the urge to pluck one off and eat it? (Found via Apartment Therapy.)

Kuroshio Sea - 2nd largest aquarium tank in the world - (song is Please don't go by Barcelona) from Jon Rawlinson on Vimeo.

9. As for music, I'm listening to Barcelona in hopes of calming myself down so that I can go to bed (I think the medicine I took had an inordinate amount of caffeine in it, I'm so restless!). This video, by Jon Rawlinson, is still one of the most beautiful and serene things I've ever watched (I know I've posted it before... but it deserves a re-post). It always brings me back to the time when I was in Genoa, Italy, and we visited the aquarium, only to find that it happened to be "school field-trip day" or something of that nature, so there were a million screaming kids running all over the place. Instead of getting fed up and leaving, I popped in my ear buds and cranked up my portable CD player, and just let the music carry me through. It was as if the fish were dancing in perfect time, I swear.

What I'm Reading and Drinking

2010-02-27T11:51:00.001-05:00

Coffee: two sugars, splash of milk. Book: On the Road: The Original Scroll* by Jack Kerouac

*On the Road was originally published in 1957. Legend has it that Kerouac wrote the novel on a 120-foot long typewriter-paper scroll during a 3-week drug-binge. While the 3-week part of the story is somewhat fabricated (Kerouac had actually been working on the novel for several years, though the bulk of the book's execution did come during this substance-fueled period), the actual scroll does exist. Kerouac wrote On The Road in a stream-of-consciousness format. There were no breaks for pages or paragraphs, no indents indicating separate thoughts or movements within the novel, and scores of grammatical and syntactical errors. All published versions of the work contain the grammatical corrections and decisions that were decided upon by the publisher's editorial team. However, in 2007, Viking published a 50th Anniversary edition that contained the original structure and grammar of the Beat author's iconic work. To read Kerouac's epic journey in it's "original" format more deeply conveys, to me, both the mentality of the author as well as the artistic approach of Beat Literature. The uninterrupted switch between the manic and the blase, the way the character/author moves from one space to another, the insertion of philosophical thought with mundane experience... it all adds to the fantastic structure of the book. As I'm reading, I can envision Kerouac sitting at his Underwood, typing furiously, only to get up and pace about the room a bit before returning to his assault on the typewriter.

Photo of the original scroll, found at NPR

Poe Friday: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on Poe

2010-02-26T10:36:00.016-05:00

It's hard to think of a Poe Friday topic with the sun beating down on me, now isn't it? Well, I suppose you wouldn't really know how to answer that, would you, as you're not me and surely don't know the effect that the sun has on my brain molecules. Read: it turns them into mush and allows me to easily be distracted by shiny thi... Ooo, a tea kettle!

Anyway... one of the things I've mentioned many times about Poe is that he spent the remaining years of his life in poverty as he did not garner the stratospheric literary success that is awarded to him, today. Like so many authors with his brand of genius, it is not until much after his death that he was given the accolades commonly bequeathed to writers during their lifetime. However, after his passing, countless numbers of writers raised their hands and admitted that the work of Poe profoundly influenced their own literary aesthetic. Even one of London's most prolific detective auteurs credits Poe as a source of inspiration, and affirms that he is worthy of the highest literary recognition, though it comes post-mortem:

Published in the New York Times, March 2, 1909; 50 years after Poe's death.

Source: Books to the Ceiling

Also, some Housekeeping Business: So, I know the Comments to this blog are a little unruly. It has to do something with the freakin' host not recognizing my freakin' web template and not letting me delete their services from my blog so I can just use Blogspot comments. Ugh. In other words: I'm working on it. Thank you all for your awesome patience-- be assured that you can leave comments as I do get them!

I return to the rain and snow that is New England, on Monday. I am not happy with this.

Southwest Florida: Book Lover on Vacation

2010-02-25T11:03:00.002-05:00

My father and I have this family vacation tradition: wherever we go, one of our main priorities is to go used book store hunting. Whether we're in the remote countryside of Northern Vermont, or among the gators of Fort Myers, there is always one day devoted to seeking out and hunting down the area's most prolific used book cache.

And can I just say, Southwest Florida has proven to be a treasure trove! While there aren't as many actual used bookstores as I'd hoped, the abundance of Goodwills and Thrift Stores more than makes up for it. In two days time, I have amassed the following (and all for less than $15):

1. The Mountains, LIFE Nature Library

2. The Ocean World of Jacques Cousteau: Mammals of the Sea, Jacques Cousteau (I've recently started a collection of this series... Also, this was sold to me by the absolute nicest man at Cracker House Books off Highway 17N in Arcadia, FL. Check him out if you're ever in the area.)

3. The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Michael Chabon

4. Prep, Curtis Wittenfeld

5. A Brief History of Time, Stephen Hawking

6. Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald (this was waiting for me when I arrived in FLA)

7. The Bonfire of Vanities, Tom Wolfe

8. Style, Kate Spade

9. The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls

10. The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner

11. The Naked and the Dead, Norman Mailer

12. French, Dover Say It Series

Beyond book shopping, I've begun warming up to Florida (oh, pun so intended). I used to think it was all strip malls and flat lands and vast stretches of highway... which do still make up the landscape. However, during this visit, I've trained my eye to be a bit more objective, and to notice the beauty that Florida also beholds.

On one of my first outings, we went to a little artist village on Pine Island known as Matlacha (by the way, how would you pronouce that? Matt-LAH-kah, right? No, apparently it's pronounced MATT-la-shay. Who knew?). The town used to be an old fishing village, which is evident in the architectural structures still standing, as well as its proximity to the canals. Below, I snapped a few pictures of the salt-water distressed exteriors of the houses, as well as one of the few fishing boats still in operation.

After you cross over the bridge into Matlacha, there's about a quarter-mile stretch of tiny jewlery shops and art galleries, all in vibrant, Florida colors. The shops on one side abut a canal, which provides this gorgeous backdrop for the wild sculptures of some of the artists. Plus, the town has an ice cream shop with some of the best homemade strawberry ice cream I've ever had!

Side of an old fishing house/restaurant

One of the several fishing vessels still in operation.

Yesterday, my parents and I took a trip out to Arcadia, Florida. Walking down the main street that cuts through Downtown, you can tell that this small city was once the hub of Southwestern Florida. Though the area that surrounds it is mostly farmland, and impoverished at that, the main corridor of town is resplendent with antique shops and architecture that tries desperately to hold on to the semblance of glamor it experienced in its heyday. My favorite part of the town was the Opera House, a gorgeous old theater that has been converted into a giant antique mall, but has a portion reserved as a museum of sorts featuring all the old machinery of the Opera House. It was truly unbelievably fascinating. I am enthralled by theater/shows/circus/entertainment of the 1920s and 30s, and this exhibit satiated my desire to find a bit of history in a state that, unfortunately in my eye, seems to grab hold of industrial progress rather than historical preservation.

The park in Downtown Arcadia

(Left) An old stage coached used on stage. (Right) One of the county's earliest existing printing presses. In the very background is a painted backdrop and a rack of costumes worn in the 20's.

An actress's dressing gown in front of the freight elevator doors.

Stage left. The door on the right leads to an old bathroom set up for the stage actors immediately off stage. Scattered around are props and old musical instruments that were used in the Opera House's many productions.

Today, we're headed to this tiny Croatian village that, apparently, was the first village to ever use Thomas Edison's electric light bulb. Yay for more history! However, I think my book-buying binge will need to be put to rest for the remainder of my stay in Fort Myers-- I'm actually at the point where I'm going to have to ship my books up to Connecticut, as I don't have enough room in my carry-ons! (Or enough upper-body strength to slug them around.) Famous last words.

This Month En Vogue

2010-02-22T12:27:00.002-05:00

Photo found at The Fashionably Independent

M.A.C. Cosmetics is launching \a new makeup line in March with Liberty of London, one of my favorite stores. The collection is chock full of saturated, girly hues, which M.A.C. creative director, James Gager, described as:

"Oscar Wilde dandy mixed with a touch of bohemian flair."

Florida, How Great Thou Art

2010-02-22T10:17:00.000-05:00

Scene snapped in Matlacha by yours truly

Actual snippet of conversation overheard at the pool, yesterday:

"Ya know what, M---? I used to read a lot, lots of books. But then I started going to church. Now, all the learnin' I get comes straight from Jesus."

To which I loudly flipped the pages of On the Road: The Original Scroll by Jack Kerouac, in the spirit of book learnin'. But, hey, at least the sun sure is nice down here!

Poe Friday: Daydreaming

2010-02-19T08:51:00.000-05:00

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi." -- from Eleonora

inage from cuban8's flickr

I am off on vacation to day dream and worry not about the world for a moment. Toodles.

I think I'll be taking one of these with me to get over my pre-flight nerves... (thanks AJ!)

Drunkenness in F. Scott Fitgerald

2010-02-19T07:33:00.001-05:00

The following excerpt is from the final "completed" scene of Fitzgerald's The Last Tycoon. This novel was Fitzgerald's last, and remains unfinished as he died of a heart attack while writing it. So, it's difficult to truly assess the scene as, though we have Fitzgerald's notes concerning the rest of the story, it's impossible to say how the characters and actions would have evolved from this point onward. However, with what exists of the novel, it is confident to say that this is the moment of Stahr's breakdown. Monroe Stahr, a successful, driven, handsome Hollywood film producer whose glossy exterior slowly erodes away from his first appearance in the book. He is set up to be the man every man aspires to be and every woman aspires to love. However, in this moment, with the aid of alcohol, the reader witnesses the emotional and physical deterioration of Stahr's confident facade, and he is not only humanized but willfully becomes a victim of his own demons.

... When I arrived, he quit and took the bottle and retired to a chair just out of the floodlight, watching in dark dangerous majesty. He was pale--he was so transparent that you could almost watch the alcohol mingle with the poison of his exhaustion...
When I looked back, Stahr was out of sight below the level of the table, and Brimmer was looking down at him.
"Please go home," I said to Brimmer.
"All right." He stood looking down at Stahr as I came around the table. "I always wanted to hit ten million dollars, but I didn't know it would be like this."
Stahr lay motionless.
"Please go," I said.
"I'm sorry. Can I help--"
"No. Please go. I understand."
He looked again, a little awed at the depth so Stahr's repose, which he had created in a split second. Then he went quickly away over the grass, and I knelt down and shook Stahr. After a moment he came awake with a terrific convulsion and bounced up on his feet.
"Where is he?" he shouted.
"Who?" I asked innocently.
"That American. Why in hell did you have to marry him, you damn fool?"
"Monroe-- he's gone. I didn't marry anybody."
I pushed him down in a chair.
"He's been gone half an hour," I lied.
The ping=pong balls lay around in the grass like a constellation of stars. I turned on a sprinkler and came back with a wet handkerchief, but there was no mark on Stahr-- he must have been hit in the side of the head. He went off behind some trees and was sic, and I heard him kicking some earth over it. After that he seemed all right, but he wouldn't go into the house until I got him some mouthwash, so I took back the whiskey bottle and got a mouthwash bottle. His wretched essay at getting drunk was over. I've been out with college freshmen, but for the sheer ineptitude and absence of the Bacchic spirit it unquestionably took the cake. Every bad thing happened to him, but that was all.

My Reading Nook

2010-02-18T10:12:00.003-05:00

I've talked a bit before about creative spaces and where writers write. I thought it only fair to offer up a few pics of my own space:

Mousse approved working nook.

Cramped, but cozy.

My, what a view.

My reading/writing space is constantly evolving. For me to feel comfortable, for me to feel truly productive in what I'm doing, I need to create an environment that reflects both a part of who I am and of who I want to be. It's a little bit different from "nesting," more like, I'm the sort of bird that needs to create a different nest depending on which bird she intends to be that week. I guess that means I'm sort of a mocking bird. Anyway, that's enough about our feathered friends, isn't it.

Friday, I'm off for a ten-day vacation in sunny Fort Myers. Not sure what sort of Internet access I'll have, so here's a preemptive apology if things remain dormant for a while. God, I cannot wait to be someplace warm.

P.S. Can we take a non-literary moment to discuss the sheer awesomeness of Shaun White on the halfpipe last night?! That was insanely sick. Just... insanely sick. Call me, my adorable ginger snowboarding prodigy.

My First Shout-Out! (and Links)

2010-02-17T17:16:00.000-05:00

Big props to The Moleskinerie for featuring today's post on their community journal! I also see that it's given me a few new readers, so welcome! **waves** Amazing how the Internet can make this big ol' world seem so small...

From hitchcock blonde

In other news... Here's a few links I wanted to share (in continuation of my somewhat faulty hopes of sharing with you all what I've been reading/looking at all week):

1. A really fabulous recipe for banana bread by my friend Matt at the food blog, Eat With Me.

2. Book wallpaper from Anthropologie. This stuff is awesome, but for $200, I'll stick with actual piles of actual books crowding my rooms. (photo from A Cup of Jo.)

3. Laura Dahl, a wonderful and whimsical fashion designer whose Keats jacket and York shirt I secretly dream about at night-- plus I adore the literary theme to her collections, wrote a poignant post on the current state of Fashion Week. Most of the blogs out there are rejoicing the fact that Fashion Week has now opened its gates to fashion bloggers, reality-show celebrities, and web-icons. It's a sort of bringing fashion to the masses. However, I always wondered, are "the masses" really who fashion is intended for? Dahl seems to have similar sentiments in "How Fashion Became A Show." Fashion Week was once a handful-of-times-a-year showcase reserved for the fashion elite who would review the upcoming collections of artisans who used fashion and fabric as the medium of their art. Now, however, with ready-to-wear trumping avant-garde and hordes of potential consumers allowed within the tents, the idea of the spectacle has become more important than the artistic vision behind the fabric. Dahl's opinion as an insider to this business makes her post a most interesting read (whether you agree with it or not).

4. Alex of ISO50 asked 25 creative types their strategies on overcoming creative block. I was truly inspired by the post. I loved hearing that those who have earned a degree of success for their creativity struggle through the same ruts that as us little people do. My favorite answer, possibly, was that from Build, who essentially gave a recipe for chili as their solution to the Block.

5. Julie at The Printed Thought, brings a solution to the bane of my existence: poor computer posture.

6. A Guardian Books Blog post about "The Fantastic Truth of Calvin and Hobbes."

7. Also from The Guardian, Henry Sutton's list of the Top 10 Most Unreliable Narrators, which features some of my favorite narrative voices (mostly because of how unsympathetic they are), such as Holden Caulfied and Humbert Humbert.

8. J.K. Rowling gave a fantastic speech at the Harvard University's Annual Meeting of the Harvard Alumni Association, that focused on failure and imagination. Her words are truly inspirational. However, I still stand by my assertion that no matter what, you are still not, nor will you ever be, J.K. Rowling.

9. Finally, this is the song I can't seem to get out of my head: Seabear's "I Sing I Swim."

My Moleskine: A Book Journal

2010-02-17T08:56:00.024-05:00

I own a lot of Moleskines. I have a standard, grid-lined black journal, the 12-month mini daily planners, a pocket-sized reporter's journal, and now the Moleskine Passions Book Journal (that Moleskine very generously sent me).

So, I forget things. Lots of things. Where I put my keys. What I ate last night. Where I'm supposed to be going after this. It's a problem. However, none of these things frustrate me. My keys always turn up eventually, the answer to "what I ate last night" is almost universally either cereal or french bread and radishes, and I figure that if I drive around long enough, I'll either figure out where I'm going or find someplace new! What frustrates me with forgetting, is forgetting what I've read. This is one of the only things I can usually remember-- I have one of these memories where I can visualize in my mind the exact look and feel of a page. I remember bits of trivia from middle school because I can actually see the layout of the page and what my handwriting looked like and sometimes even the doodles in the margins. This extends into college where I would sometimes be able to write an entire 12-page paper, without even cracking open a book, except to get the page number for whatever quote I was referencing. However, for whatever reason, sometimes I draw a complete blank when trying to recall what titles and authors I have read or want to read. I will sit there and stare at the bookshelves in the Fiction section of Borders, just trying to will a title into memory. More often than not, I simply can't, and so I abandon the search. The Book Journal is sort of my new saving grace in this way. It helps me keep tabs (literally) on what I'm reading, want to read, and have read.

Inside, the bulk of the journal is comprised of tabbed sections (arranged alphabetically like an address book) where you can document the details of what you're reading with space in the front matter to jot down "to-read" lists. I've begun carrying this with me everywhere, as it's roughly the size of a paperback, making it small enough that I can drop it into my Bag With No End and not have to frantically search its recesses for retrieval. Plus, it's pretty. I love the embossed cover as I am a HUGE fan of typography, though, I wish the embossed cover was a bit more raised as I have a feeling that after a few months of use, a lot of the text is going to rub off.

My first entry was for The Elegance of the Hedgehog.

This is probably my favorite quote from the book.

Though this journal is certainly no substitute for jotting down important marginalia, it's a bit more comprehensive in the sense that all my notes and book thoughts can fit neatly into one, rectangular, portable package. Plus, it helps me remember.

Do you have a favorite journal? What do you use to keep track of what you've read?

The iPad and Publishing (Insert Your Menstrual Cycle Joke Here.)

2010-02-13T12:49:00.000-05:00

I still don't really get it. Why do I need this?

We're all well aware of the amazing hype surrounding Steve Jobs's release of the iPad. People love it, hate it, think it unnecessary, and make countless bodily-function references to its name. But one thing that seems concurrent throughout, is that many news sources are trying to either credit or discredit the idea that the iPad will be the savior of print publishing.

As someone who works in publishing, though I do have a very limited view of the grand scope of the iPad's objective, I see two personalities emerging in the industry. The first are those who are so panicked/overtaken by the idea of eBooks and digital media, that they are grasping fervently onto the iPad as a new source of output; and those who are entirely skeptical and foresee no apparent change (at least for the better) that can be affected by this new gadget. I, personally, am slightly on the fence. For one, I can definitely see this device revolutionizing the industry, though probably not in the way everyone expects. Devices like the iPad are the future, but real-paper books will always have a significant-- even if better termed a "cult"-- following. We know this, because we've seen how, even in our abundantly digitized age, "old-fashioned" things are still in style (hence, why people will pay $300 for a typewriter, even if it only sits decoratively on their office desk). Obviously, I don't see the iPad as improving the state of print publishing. Unfortunately, this grandfather industry is in need of employing different coping mechanisms to its strategy. People still read books, but I believe publishers need to be a bit more highly selective about the types of books they are putting out. Which sort of sucks for all the writers out there. And, yes, I realize this is a return to a very old model of publishing, but hear me out.

With the onslaught of "penny-dreadfuls" and mass-production paperbacks, reading materials became widely available to all social classes. This was a remarkable addition to social culture, however, in recent decades it has spiraled wildly out of control. Now, the market is almost over-saturated with literature (I know, you wouldn't expect to hear that from me!). Anybody is willing to publish almost anything because we are currently at a stage in the game where the digital/Internet industry is becoming like the Mongolian hordes ready to rape and pillage the steel-castles of publishing conglomerates that were once the Kings of this industry. People are reading everything on-line, and they are reading for instant gratification. It's difficult for an industry that, at best, has about a 6-month to year turn around on reading material, to compete with that. What people can't find on their bookshelves, they are supplementing with fan sites, Livejournals, blogs, and internet readers. Therefore, you see publishing houses banking on "sure-thing" money makers instead of investing in beautifully-crafted tomes of literature. Unfortunately, these so-called "money makers" aren't exactly working for them. They're making money, but not in the volume that the bestsellers used to. Again, this all has to due with the Age of the Internet, whose distended teat we are all currently suckling.

So, I believe that trade publishing houses need to learn to craft front lists that aren't trying to satiate the chomping bits of middle-America (and thereby attempting to churn out as many Dan Browns as possible), but rather should look for a few poignant, unique voices and choose authors who are providing a significant cultural contribution to the realm of Literature. Perhaps this means down-sizing (unfortunately, but it's going to happen anyway), and I'm sure there will still be a financial hit, but to really focus their energies on promoting and proliferating these voices to readers. By doing so, they would offer consumers something that, really, can't be found elsewhere. Anyone can write a Stephenie Meyer novel, not everyone can write like Delillo. Invest in production, making the covers and insides as aesthetically beautiful as possible. By doing so, you make yourself relevant. Of course, while I do not think this means that NO ONE should be publishing the next John Grisham novel, I sense that a return to craft-publishing will allow the industry to keep itself relevant. People will be more willing to pay the $15 price tag for a book they will not only read, but want to keep, rather than for the latest paperback involving a story they've already read 17 times before.

Of course, this is a completely idealistic expectation of the industry. Publishing is a business and no matter what your intention may be when starting out, if you start a business you are inevitably infected with money-lust. Otherwise, why do it in the first place, right? Also, adopting this model would mean significant changes in the industry. And we all know that old trope about old dogs and their new tricks.

Poe Friday: Toasting Poe and a Video

2010-02-12T10:28:00.000-05:00

The Edgar Allen Poe Project from Georgetown College on Vimeo.

I apologize for this somewhat paltry offering for Poe Friday, but I am currently trying to research the whereabouts of the mysterious Poe Toaster, who apparently didn't show up for his annual visit to Poe's grave! This is truly unheard of! Major news in the Poe world!! The Poe Toaster, who leaves a half bottle of cognac and three red roses at Poe's grave site, has never missed a January 19th toasting since the tradition began in 1949. Unfortunately, no one knows exactly who the toaster is... so there's no real definitive way of determining his fate!

Anyway, this video is a Georgetown University ensemble performance of "The Edgar Allan Poe Project," which featured songs and spoken-word performances of works inspired by Poe's legacy.

In A Continuation of Pretty

2010-02-11T09:54:00.002-05:00

I adore pretty things, and Mrs. Lilien's Styling House always knows exactly what I need. Yesterday's edition was called "A Literary Mrs," and let me tell you-- I would buy everything on that list... if I could afford it. I especially loved the Knitted Blazer, Readers, and Bergere chair that she featured. I truly hope that, one day, I grow to have such impeccable taste!

Collage picked and styled by the oh-so-fabulous, Mrs. Lilien.

Find links to each item in this list, here.

Also, I must say, I don't smoke-- but I am so overwhelmingly influenced by packaging, that if those mini-books in item #4 were cigarettes... I might just tote around a pack for show. Sick, I know.

What Do Your Bookshelves Say About You?

2010-02-10T14:26:00.001-05:00

I found this great "challenge" on the blog So Many Books (a wonderful site for the book lovers out there), and thought it would be fun to try!

That... or completely self-effacing.

Let's take a gander, shall we?

♥ "I'm obsessed with books!" Five bookshelves and over 440 books spilling forth from said shelves would push my classification right over the border between "passionate book reader" to "clinically obsessed book hoarder."

♥ "I need to know why!" Not only do I like to read, but I like to know why I read. I have about one complete shelf dedicated to books about "your brain on books."

♥ "I'm studying for [blank]!" GREs, college algebra, trigonometry, astronomy, cultural anthropology... I have a lot of books on tests/subjects/courses that I'm not actually taking.

♥ "I'm obsessive-compulsive!" Which really couldn't be further from the truth. However, my bookshelves are organized by subject, then sub-category within that subject, then chronologically, THEN alphabetical by author/editor, AND THEN alphabetical by title. As in, if you want to find the book The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, you would need to look in: Literature >> American and Western European Literature >> 1910-1960 Modern Period >> Fitz. >> G. Hm, maybe this is why I'm spending Valentine's Day alone?

♥ "I was a chef in a former life!" I have many cook books, books on cooking, books on food, books on other books about food, ad infinitum. What can I say, I love food!

♥ "I have a French fetish!" Beyond the dream of one day scoring my very own French man to read me French poetry, wear striped shirts, and eat baguettes, I also have the dream that I will one day be fluent in French. Hence, a shelf full of French-language editions of various French authors and poets.

♥ "I'm an Existentialist!" Really, I'm not. But I do have an Albert Camus fetish. I'm determined to collect everything he's ever written. See above.

♥ "I like Literary Theory!" Really, I do. Foucault takes up the bulk of the list, but various other books on random topics in Literature litter my shelves. I think it helps remind me that, whether or not I'm actually enrolled in higher education, I can always drag one of those suckers to the local coffee shop and relive my days wringing my hands whilst pouring over complicated syntax.

♥ "I like pretty things!" I don't care what they tell you, I totally judge a book by its cover. With the exception of the classics, I tend to gravitate towards highly graphical, gorgeously formatted, innovative text-based covers. I tend to select books with outfits in mind... is that weird? Don't answer that.

♥ "I'm a book snob!" Okay, I see where the general opinion comes from. While I do partake in mass-culture literature, as soon as I'm done reading said work, it's usually off my shelves and down at the Goodwill/Book Barn to make room for more books!

♥ "I look for a good bargain!" Despite having so many books, about 80% of those books were either bought used or on clearance.

EDIT: Forgot one! ♥ "I love books about booze/authors who booze/books about booze and the authors that booze!" A lot of the initial inspiration from this site came not only from my own undergraduate study, but also from my book collection! Poe, Dickens, Bukowski, Coleridge, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Burroughs, Sophocles, Hafiz, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Joyce, Thompson... they're all pretty much there!

That was fun! If you decide to try this out on your own blog, please let me know!

It's A Nor'easter!

2010-02-10T08:14:00.006-05:00

Photo of the Commonwealth Mall by bettlebrox on flickr.

Is it just me, or is it unseasonably warm outside right now? Funny, considering we're about to get the snowstorm of the year! Why do I live in New England, again? No matter, I have a hot date after work with some friends, a sled, warm brownies, and reading. The perfect way to survive the storm.

Last night I stopped at my favorite book spot in the greater Boston area, armed with my beautiful new Moleskine Book Journal,** where I am carefully detailing all the books I want to read/purchase (yes, this is beyond the 430+ books I already own). I ended up grabbing a discount copy of Steve Martin's Shopgirl (I read The Pleasure of My Own Company and loved it, plus, Steve Martin is a genius if you ask me... if you ignore almost every movie he's done in the past 10 or so years) and a mass-paperback edition of Denis Lehane's Shutter Island (I need to see if the movie will be too scary. Even Leonardo Dicaprio's baby blues can't keep the nightmares away). See, though some posit me as a book snob, I sometimes go for the whole trashy-lit thing, too. I'll admit it, sometimes I fall for the hype. I've read Angels & Demons. I've read Twilight (and every other book in the series... and have seen the movies... and... OMG $P@RKLY V@MP!RES! Ugh, kill me). I think it's important to every reader to have a broad base of what they're reading-- a combination of high- and low-brow. Because, as readers, I feel we should commit ourselves to be keen observers of literature- and therefore culture- as a whole, not just of one particular genre. It's important to see how Literature is evolving (or devolving). Besides, the mind needs a break every once in a while (I used to do algebra* to get that break, now I just read trashy novels. Much better if you ask me).

Stay safe if you're in the New England/Mid-Atlantic area and are getting hit by this storm!

*True story: Back in college, when I overbooked my class schedule and was taking 4 English courses at a time, I used to do college algebra and trig in order to "wind down." Something about the fact that math has a set course and a definitive answer helped talk my brain of its ledge after writing papers on somewhat abstract concepts. It's weird, I know.

** FTC regulations require me to tell you that Moleskine did, in fact, send me a free copy of this journal. However, this was definitely something I would have purchased/begged for as a gift, anyway. And, consequently, would have talked about on my site. Moleskine was just awesome enough to cut out the middle man for me! Some shots of my new baby will come as soon as my home computer stops relinquishing itself to the multitude of viruses eating away at its memory. Ugh.

Internet Bones: Monday Links on a Tuesday

2010-02-09T15:02:00.001-05:00

Due to major technological malfunctions, I'm a bit tardy on my links post (yes, dammit, I'm going to make this a regular thing).

1. You may not be aware of this, but one of the "Great Literary Debates" concerns a little special someone known as Alexander Dumas. Though literary history has mostly forgotten the controversy surrounding Dumas's best-known works, The Three Musketeers and Count of Monte Cristo, a new French film starring Gerard Depardieu brings it back to light (because which French film doesn't involve Depardieu in some way?). L'Autre Dumas explores the working relationship between Dumas and Auguste Maquet, the man who shadowed Dumas and is said to be the co-writer of Dumas's most prolific works. This film will for sure incite (continue?) an intense debate between faithful fans of Dumas and purist literary scholars. For me, any film involving period costumes and/or Gerard Depardieu gets an honorary spot on my Netflix queue.

2. Red velvet pancakes on happy lady eats. I don't think that really requires further explanation.

3. Words to live by.

4. Some tips on how to get motivated for running. Pretty essential if you're like me, and feel that the impending doom of a 13.1-mile race is best kept at bay by eating red velvet pancakes (see item #2).

5. The Guardian asks, does literature of the homeless exist?

6. The Great Mac Debate: do I go for my laptop of choice, the Macbook, or begrudgingly purchase the more affordably-priced Dell Studio? My old Toshiba has bit the dust, and I need a new laptop for grad school...

Admin Note: I Hate PCs.

2010-02-08T11:09:00.001-05:00

Just giving the heads up that my posting may be a bit sporadic the next week or so. My home computer has bit the dust/is swarming with viruses, so until that gets taken care of, my computer-usage is limited. Am thinking I'll just bite the bullet and buy an Apple Macbook instead of wasting more money on fixing that piece of junk.

Ugh, so not what I needed today!

A Day in the Life: What I Am Currently Reading (and Drinking)

2010-02-05T14:30:00.004-05:00

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery and an extra dirty martini, 4 olives.

(Photo taken last night, I'm not actually drinking at work.)

Poe Friday: The Shortest of Short Stories, "The Oval Portrait"

2010-02-05T11:16:00.001-05:00

I thought a good way to spend this Poe Friday would be to let you read one of Poe's short stories. The story I've chosen is "The Oval Portrait."

"The Oval Portrait" was published in 1842 as a longer story, "Life in Death." However, it was republished in 1845 in Broadway Magazine as a shorter (and perhaps more poignant) version, which I've included below. "The Oval Portrait" is about a man who, finding himself in a peculiarly-shaped room, encounters a portrait that shocks him into artistic submission. He is overcome and enraptured by its beauty and realism. While looking at the portrait, he is reading a volume of art criticism, which structures a sort of frame narrative around the story. The book talks about how the portrait was created; that it was painted by an eccentric artist who was trying to capture the essence of his beloved. Eventually, however, the artist became so obsessed with the portrait, that he lost sight of the woman he was painting (both literally and figuratively). The story ends with the sort of ending so common in Poe, but one which never ceases to incite a sense of fright.

Originally, "The Oval Portrait" reminded me of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, because, really, what Victorian Gothic novel involving a painting doesn't remind you of Oscar Wilde? However, Poe's story certainly stands on its own, bringing a brand of creepiness that only Poe can manifest. One tidbit I found interesting was that the overarching theme of this story is directly in line with Poe's own philosophy on aesthetics. In "Philosophy of Composition," Poe talks about how"poetry as art is the rhythmical creation of beauty, and that the most poetical topic in the world is the death of a beautiful woman" (Source). Tuck that under your pillows when you go to read this...

Illustration found at lauralink88's flickr

The Oval Portrait

THE CHATEAU into which my valet had ventured to make forcible entrance, rather than permit me, in my desperately wounded condition, to pass a night in the open air, was one of those piles of commingled gloom and grandeur which have so long frowned among the Appennines, not less in fact than in the fancy of Mrs. Radcliffe. To all appearance it had been temporarily and very lately abandoned. We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a remote turret of the building. Its decorations were rich, yet tattered and antique. Its walls were hung with tapestry and bedecked with manifold and multiform armorial trophies, together with an unusually great number of very spirited modern paintings in frames of rich golden arabesque. In these paintings, which depended from the walls not only in their main surfaces, but in very many nooks which the bizarre architecture of the chateau rendered necessary-in these paintings my incipient delirium, perhaps, had caused me to take deep interest; so that I bade Pedro to close the heavy shutters of the room-since it was already night-to light the tongues of a tall candelabrum which stood by the head of my bed-and to throw open far and wide the fringed curtains of black velvet which enveloped the bed itself. I wished all this done that I might resign myself, if not to sleep, at least alternately to the contemplation of these pictures, and the perusal of a small volume which had been found upon the pillow, and which purported to criticise and describe them.

Long-long I read-and devoutly, devotedly I gazed. Rapidly and gloriously the hours flew by and the deep midnight came. The position of the candelabrum displeased me, and outreaching my hand with difficulty, rather than disturb my slumbering valet, I placed it so as to throw its rays more fully upon the book.

But the action produced an effect altogether unanticipated. The rays of the numerous candles (for there were many) now fell within a niche of the room which had hitherto been thrown into deep shade by one of the bed-posts. I thus saw in vivid light a picture all unnoticed before. It was the portrait of a young girl just ripening into womanhood. I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed my eyes. Why I did this was not at first apparent even to my own perception. But while my lids remained thus shut, I ran over in my mind my reason for so shutting them. It was an impulsive movement to gain time for thought-to make sure that my vision had not deceived me-to calm and subdue my fancy for a more sober and more certain gaze. In a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the painting.

That I now saw aright I could not and would not doubt; for the first flashing of the candles upon that canvas had seemed to dissipate the dreamy stupor which was stealing over my senses, and to startle me at once into waking life.

The portrait, I have already said, was that of a young girl. It was a mere head and shoulders, done in what is technically termed a vignette manner; much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully. The arms, the bosom, and even the ends of the radiant hair melted imperceptibly into the vague yet deep shadow which formed the back-ground of the whole. The frame was oval, richly gilded and filigreed in Moresque. As a thing of art nothing could be more admirable than the painting itself. But it could have been neither the execution of the work, nor the immortal beauty of the countenance, which had so suddenly and so vehemently moved me. Least of all, could it have been that my fancy, shaken from its half slumber, had mistaken the head for that of a living person. I saw at once that the peculiarities of the design, of the vignetting, and of the frame, must have instantly dispelled such idea-must have prevented even its momentary entertainment. Thinking earnestly upon these points, I remained, for an hour perhaps, half sitting, half reclining, with my vision riveted upon the portrait. At length, satisfied with the true secret of its effect, I fell back within the bed. I had found the spell of the picture in an absolute life-likeliness of expression, which, at first startling, finally confounded, subdued, and appalled me. With deep and reverent awe I replaced the candelabrum in its former position. The cause of my deep agitation being thus shut from view, I sought eagerly the volume which discussed the paintings and their histories. Turning to the number which designated the oval portrait, I there read the vague and quaint words which follow:

"She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee. And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter. He, passionate, studious, austere, and having already a bride in his Art; she a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee; all light and smiles, and frolicsome as the young fawn; loving and cherishing all things; hating only the Art which was her rival; dreading only the pallet and brushes and other untoward instruments which deprived her of the countenance of her lover. It was thus a terrible thing for this lady to hear the painter speak of his desire to portray even his young bride. But she was humble and obedient, and sat meekly for many weeks in the dark, high turret-chamber where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only from overhead. But he, the painter, took glory in his work, which went on from hour to hour, and from day to day. And be was a passionate, and wild, and moody man, who became lost in reveries; so that he would not see that the light which fell so ghastly in that lone turret withered the health and the spirits of his bride, who pined visibly to all but him. Yet she smiled on and still on, uncomplainingly, because she saw that the painter (who had high renown) took a fervid and burning pleasure in his task, and wrought day and night to depict her who so loved him, yet who grew daily more dispirited and weak. And in sooth some who beheld the portrait spoke of its resemblance in low words, as of a mighty marvel, and a proof not less of the power of the painter than of his deep love for her whom he depicted so surpassingly well. But at length, as the labor drew nearer to its conclusion, there were admitted none into the turret; for the painter had grown wild with the ardor of his work, and turned his eyes from canvas merely, even to regard the countenance of his wife. And he would not see that the tints which he spread upon the canvas were drawn from the cheeks of her who sate beside him. And when many weeks bad passed, and but little remained to do, save one brush upon the mouth and one tint upon the eye, the spirit of the lady again flickered up as the flame within the socket of the lamp. And then the brush was given, and then the tint was placed; and, for one moment, the painter stood entranced before the work which he had wrought; but in the next, while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and very pallid, and aghast, and crying with a loud voice, 'This is indeed Life itself!' turned suddenly to regard his beloved:-She was dead!

THE END

(Story found at Classic Literature at About.com)

Where Do You Write?

2010-02-04T16:29:00.001-05:00

This post at the Dinosaurs and Robots blog got me thinking about creative spaces, or rather, those spaces where I get creative. George Bernard Shaw had his shack, and Roald Dahl had his hut. What do you have? Where do you get most creative?

Shack.

Hut.

Generally, I think there are two types of writers: ones that need the noise of human interaction to influence their creative flow, and ones that require complete cloistered solitude, the absence of interaction to keep their minds from straying. Basically, it's the difference between the coffeeshop writers and the recluses. And I realized that I fall into the latter category.

My creative energy is at it's peak when I am completely alone. Even when I was a baby, my mother knew I was happiest when she placed me in my crib with a picture book, and left the room. I could entertain myself for hours (or, ya know, just take a nap). I suppose this is why I need a sense privacy to extend into my creative space. When no other noise or sound, except that of my own heart beat, interrupts the creative flow. But it's not just about the noise: it's about completely removing yourself from the flux of humanity. Sequestering yourself in a place of complete anonymity. Where no one knows how to reach you or where you are or what you are doing. It's almost as if you're living off the grid, for the couple of hours or so you expend on writing.

In recent memory, I've only really experienced this sort of aloneness a handful of times. Once was when I was studying in London, living in a flat on Redcliffe Gardens in Kensington/Chelsea. It was a time when pretty much all my other flatmates and building-mates, all students themselves, were either on campus, off travelling, or otherwise just not around. It was quiet, I was completely alone. I pulled out my journal, sat in the big bay window off our kitchen, and wrote for hours.

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By the end of the day, I had written one of the most bizarre/fantastical poems I'd ever written, filled with allegories and language that I never really knew I had in me. I'm not saying the poem was necessarily good, but it was the full expression of my creativity at that given moment.

I'm interested in knowing how others out there feel about this. Where do you like to get creative? What's your space like? I'd love it if anyone was willing to post a picture of their writing desk, favorite coffee shop to get creative in, or of their very own writing shack!

Coverspy: What Are NYC's Commuters Reading?

2010-02-03T17:42:00.000-05:00

File this under "Things I Wish I'd Thought Of:"

Coverspy is a collective effort in documenting the current literary choices of every-day New Yorkers. Updates appear on their Twitter page as these budding curators navigate their way through the great NY Transit system. I especially love the commentary: "The Guy Not Taken, Jennifer Weiner (F, 40, opened book then took out chocolate bar & unwrapped it, B train)."

Found on swissmiss.