Saturday, February 22, 2020

Duh – Most Of Us Judge A Book By Its Title

A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.
— Henry Adams, born in 1838



We will never know the people in our lives as profoundly as we can know the characters in a novel

In order to gain something you have to lose something.
Mom said it was just obvious. People are always trying to get something for nothing. But that’s just theft. If you’ve gained something it means that someone, somewhere, has lost something. Even happiness is built on someone else’s misfortune. Mom often told me this, she considered it one of the laws of the universe.”

“Cabbage existed in a world without time. No clocks, no schedules, and no being late. And no such thing as categorizing people according to age or what year they are in school. And no vacations because there’s nothing to have a vacation from in the first place. There’s just the changes brought about by natural phenomena, and our physical response – like when you’re hungry or sleepy.”

“Cats and humans have been partners for over ten thousand years. And what you realize when you’ve lived with a cat for a long time is that we may think we own them, but that’s not the way it is. They simply allow us the pleasure of their company.”

With a wingspan of 7 feet, the Harpy Eagle looks like a person dressed up in a bird costume. ACHNews


Minnesota Will Pay Homeowners to Replace Lawns with Bee-Friendly Wildflowers, Clover and Native Grasses Return to Now 


Every Melody Has Been Copyrighted (and they’re all on this hard drive) YouTube One of my past (and terrific) attorneys was an intellectual property specialist (serious IP work is done out of only a handful of boutique firms + Covington). I suspect she would disagree with this legal analysis


Breathing life into rural France – one cafe at a time




YOU CAN ONLY BE AVANT-GARDE FOR SO LONG BEFORE YOU BECOME GARDE: Rage Against the Machine becomes the machine.
At venues such as the Target Center, Capital One Arena, and Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse (are you getting a corporate vibe?), the cheapest nosebleed tickets will run you at least $125, plus fees to whatever corporation is selling the tickets. At some venues, such as the NMSU Pan American Center in New Mexico, a standing room-only floor ticket will cost you $750, plus a whopping $121.30 in pesky Ticketmaster fees.
The hypocrisy of astronomical prices was not missed by even the most devout fans.
To coin a Johnny Rotten-approved phrase, ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?
(Classical reference in headline.)




See A 3D Recreation Of Ancient Greece


Visitors to the site can browse reconstructions that date back as early as 1200 BCE, the Mycenaean period — or Bronze Age — through Classical Athens, featuring the rebuilds made necessary by the Greco-Persian War, and ages of occupation byRomans and Ottomans. Tsalkanis traces the evolution of sites like the Acropolis throughout the ages, the rise and fall of the city walls, the Agora, which served as center of city life, and various temples, libraries, and other fortifications. –Hyperallergic


‘DFW: I had a teacher I liked who used to say good fiction’s job was to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. I guess a big part of serious fiction’s purpose is to give the reader, who like all of us is sort of marooned in her own skull, to give her imaginative access to other selves. Since an ineluctable part of being a human self is suffering, part of what we humans come to art for is an experience of suffering, necessarily a vicarious experience, more like a sort of “generalization” of suffering. Does this make sense? We all suffer alone in the real world; true empathy’s impossible. But if a piece of fiction can allow us imaginatively to identify with a character’s pain, we might then also more easily conceive of others identifying with our own. This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside. It might just be that simple.’

From the Dalkey Archive interview with David Foster Wallace.

It is worth reading the whole interview for DFW’s trenchant diagnosis not only of his own weaknesses as a writer, but those at the centre of American, and to a lesser extent English language culture, that its lack of seriousness stems from a need to be liked: “like me because I’m clever” or the lesser (very English) “like me because I’m funny”.

‘I strongly suspect a big part of real art fiction’s job is to aggravate this sense of entrapment and loneliness and death in people, to move people to countenance it, since any possible human redemption requires us first to face what’s dreadful, what we want to deny.’



Western Stars – Bruce Springsteen.  I recommended the album a while back.  The cinematic film version is even better.  Live songs from his barn on his New Jersey farm – interspersed with dramatic footage of the West and The Boss himself in full narrative flow – love and loss, the passage of time, growing older and Family.  Vintage. (Amazon Prime)

Escape at Dannemora – based on a real life 2015 story.  Brilliant seven part mini-series from Showtime – available on Amazon Prime. Award winning performances from Patricia Arquette, and a tour de force from Benicio del Toro.  Outstanding work from Director Ben Stiller (who knew?!).  Slow, measured, intense, authentic.

Succession – OK, you’ve probably already seen this.  I’m deep into Series Two, courtesy of iTunes.  I don’t like any of the characters – oh, except for Greg, but that’s what makes it compelling.  Starts slow but picks up speed.

Wild District – I’ve just been to Colombia twice in as many months – to Cartagena, Medellin and Bogota – and got caught up in the history, the culture, the art, the struggle and the people.  Watched the two series of Wild District (Distrito Salvaje) – the reintegration (or not!) of a guerilla fighter following the Colombian Peace Agreements.  A charismatic character – JJ – looking to reconnect with his family whilst being pulled in all kinds of directions.  Fascinating. (Netflix)

Giri/Haji – (Netflix).  Duty/Shame.  A BBC series just out – a soulful, complex thriller set in Tokyo and London exploring the butterfly effect of a single act across these two cities.  Dark, witty and cross-cultural in very innovative ways.

We Are The Wave – A Netflix series from Germany.  Totally Today.  A group of idealistic teenagers (the best kind!) revolt against the rising tide of extreme nationalism – but it gets darker.

Wild Wild Country – I missed this when it came out last year but Sparky put me right and Netflix obliged.  A docuseries chronicling the largely forgotten relocation of guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh’s ashram from India to Oregon in 1981 with the incredible resultant first ever bioterror attack in the US, along with all kinds of illegal Government interventions.  Fascinating.

City on a Hill – Showtime (and Amazon Prime).  Produced by Ben Affleck, starring a charismatic Kevin Bacon – Boston in the 1990’s. Corruption, violence and racism to be battled. “It’s hard to be a Saint in the City.”

And two must-watch shows from my friends at Fremantle:

The Windermere Children – aired on BBC on January 27.  The true story of 300 youngsters taken to the beautiful Lake District – at the end of the Second World War – transported from the concentration camp of Theresienstadt.  A story that hasn’t been told before.  Stark, stomach-churning, impossible to ignore.

The New Pope on Sky Atlantic.  Series Two.  Even better than Jude Law’s Series One.  Slick, stylish, sensual and driven by Jude Law’s successor – The New Pope – John Malkovich being John Malkovich with everything great and offbeat that that entails.


‘For our generation, the entire world seems to present itself as “familiar,” but since that’s of course an illusion in terms of anything really important about people, maybe any “realistic” fiction’s job is opposite what it used to be—no longer making the strange familiar but making the familiar strange again. It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most “familiarity” is meditated and delusive.’

There’s so much good in this interview. I might have to explore DFW’s work again, to look beyond the irritating humour. The essays, maybe, or that last unfinished work?

‘DFW: Well, but metafiction is more valuable than that. It helps reveal fiction as a meditated experience. Plus it reminds us that there’s always a recursive component to utterance. This was important, because language’s self-consciousness had always been there, but neither writers nor critics nor readers wanted to be reminded of it. ‘

The poet laureate tradition is long. Poet laureates were first recognized in Italy during the fourteenth century. Ben Jonson became England’s first poet laureate in 1616, although the first “official” poet laureate, John Dryden, received his appointment in 1668. The present title in the United States, however, wasn’t authorized until an act of Congress in 1985 — prior to that they were known as “Consultants in Poetry.” – A History Of Poets Laureate - Los Angeles Times


DELICIOUS MEDICINE:  Cocoa may improve leg blood flow, walking in peripheral artery disease.

All about Andy: extracts from Warhol – A Life As Art In his new biography, the former chief art critic of the Washington Post sheds new light on the late 20th century’s defining artist


Valentine’s Day might be over but the animal kingdom must not have gotten the memo.

The city of Lakeland closed off a section of ground near Lake Hollingsworth after receiving reports that numerous snakes had swarmed the area

The Ride-Hail Utopia That Got Stuck in Traffic WSJ. “Uber and Lyft said they would ease congestion. Instead they made it worse.” Thank you, venture capital


Duh – Most Of Us Judge A Book By Its Title


For two of the three most-browsed books in the Codex test, participants said that the books’ titles, not their graphics, were the strongest factors in prompting them to click the read more buttons. “People who buy and read books are word lovers; nothing intrigues them more than a strong message delivered by uniquely crafted title, subtitle, or even a reading line.” – Publishers Weekly



Les Miz” Song Has Become A Defiant Protest Anthem In China


Do You Hear the People Sing?, the defiant chorus from the musical Les Misérables, has become a song of protest in Hong Kong and, more recently, mainland China. Explicit references to Li Wenliang, the Wuhan doctor censured for his warnings about the coronavirus outbreak, and to Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement, are stamped upon – but lines from the song slip through the net on China’s social networks Weibo and WeChat, fostering a community of covert opposition. –The Guardian


Like a Victorian wedding night, yes. Let’s take difficulty first. We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We’re difficult to ourselves, we’re difficult to each other. And we are mysteries to ourselves, we are mysteries to each other. One encounters in any ordinary day far more real difficulty than one confronts in the most “intellectual” piece of work. Why is it believed that poetry, prose, painting, music should be less than we are? Why does music, why does poetry have to address us in simplified terms, when if such simplification were applied to a description of our own inner selves we would find it demeaning? I think art has a right—not an obligation—to be difficult if it wishes. And, since people generally go on from this to talk about elitism versus democracy, I would add that genuinely difficult art is truly democratic. And that tyranny requires simplification. This thought does not originate with me, it’s been far better expressed by others. I think immediately of the German classicist and Kierkegaardian scholar Theodor Haecker, who went into what was called “inner exile” in the Nazi period, and kept a very fine notebook throughout that period, which miraculously survived, though his house was destroyed by Allied bombing. Haecker argues, with specific reference to the Nazis, that one of the things the tyrant most cunningly engineers is the gross oversimplification of language, because propaganda requires that the minds of the collective respond primitively to slogans of incitement. And any complexity of language, any ambiguity, any ambivalence implies intelligence. Maybe an intelligence under threat, maybe an intelligence that is afraid of consequences, but nonetheless an intelligence working in qualifications and revelations . . . resisting, therefore, tyrannical simplification.

So much for difficulty. Now let’s take the other aspect—overintellectuality. I have said, almost to the point of boring myself and others, that I am as a poet simple, sensuous, and passionate. I’m quoting words of Milton, which were rediscovered and developed by Coleridge. Now, of course, in naming Milton and Coleridge, we were naming two interested parties, poets, thinkers, polemicists who are equally strong on sense and intellect. I would say confidently of Milton, slightly less confidently of Coleridge, that they recreate the sensuous intellect. The idea that the intellect is somehow alien to sensuousness, or vice versa, is one that I have never been able to connect with. I can accept that it is a prevalent belief, but it seems to me, nonetheless, a false notion. Ezra Pound defines logopaeia as “the dance of the intellect among words.” But elsewhere he changes intellect to intelligence. Logopaeia is the dance of the intelligence among words. I prefer intelligence to intellect here. I think we’re dealing with a phantom, or as Blake would say, a specter. The intellect—as the word is used generally—is a kind of specter, a false imagination, and it binds the majority with exactly the kind of mind-forged manacles that Blake so eloquently described. The intelligence is, I think, much more true, a true relation, a true accounting of what this elusive quality is. I think intelligence has a kind of range of sense and allows us to contemplate the coexistence of the conceptual aspect of thought and the emotional aspect of thought as ideally wedded, troth-plight, and the circumstances in which this troth-plight can be effected are to be found in the medium of language itself. I could speak about the thing more autobiographically; it’s the emphasis where one is most likely to be questioned, n’est-ce pas?”

—From Hill’s Paris Review interview.

Maybe it was all the Guinness Book of World Records reading when I was a kid, but I probably pay more attention than many people to the list of the world’s oldest people. At 122 years and 164 days, Jeanne Calment is the oldest person to have ever lived. At the time of her death, she had lived for almost 5 years longer than the previous record-holder, which I have always found a little fishy. So it was with great interest that I read Lauren Collins’ New Yorker piece on a recent challenge to Calment’s age.
The passage of time often quells controversy, but, in the Calment case, it only unsettled the dust. As the world’s population continued to grow, the cohort of people living to the age of a hundred and twenty-two did not. More than two decades after Calment’s death, her record still stood, making her a more conspicuous outlier with every year that went by. Either she had lived longer than any human being ever or she had executed an audacious fraud. As one observer wrote, “Both are highly unlikely life stories but one is true.” In “Les 120 Ans de Jeanne Calment,” her validators had reproduced the only picture known to exist of the two Calment women as adults. In it, Yvonne appears to be sitting on a windowsill. Jeanne stands to her left, behind a table, looking down at a basket of flowers and a wrapped gift. The women are both wearing white shirts and dark sweaters. Accompanying the photograph was a tantalizing caption: “Jeanne and Yvonne, her daughter. Which one is which?”