Yesterday I sold my Honda. It was a great little grad school car: didn’t break down with any costly repairs, could park anywhere, drove me all around the country last summer. But as much as I appreciated it, I never became too attached; it was my sister’s first, and I only had it for two years.
Which might be why I am now going carless.
I can ride a bike. Lexington, Kentucky, like Paris, has a low-cost bike rental program for the center of the city. Writer Christopher Rowe is its wrangler — today he’s in the Lexington Herald-Leader. I have my own bike (like this), which I’ve made sort of roadworthy. But the brakes are wobbly. We’ll see.
Luckily in LA, I can take the Metrorail. I love subways — I can read on them. Read! I can’t read on a bus or in a car, but subways and trains, I’m good. I read Cloud Atlas on a train from Pittsburgh to Washington, DC. A big chunk of Underworld while stuck on a stalled train in Connecticut. So many New Yorkers while commuting from Williamsburg to Midtown in NYC. I read Naked on the NY subway and got a little too much attention. And now I’ll get to bust out stuff to read on the LA Metro; better go to Pasadena once in a while just to have a long enough ride to really make some progress.
I was planning to sign up with Zipcar to augment my new Metro/reading habit — but when they bought rival Flexcar, they shut down all but two Los Angeles locations (inconveniently at USC and UCLA). In Pittsburgh, a city of less than 350,000, there are 34 Zipcars. Here I thought carsharing was supposed to be an alternative transportation source for environmentally-inclined urbanites; no, it’s just car rental for college students. Whatevs.
Then there’s my skateboard. Am I too old to ride a skateboard? When I fall down and go boom, will I break something? Will it please stop raining so I can bust it out and not freeze up the trucks?
I’ve just learned that Pitt’s graduation speaker, football player Dan Marino, closed his speech with something like, “in the wise words of Ace Ventura, Pet Detective: Let’s party!” How ever did I miss it?
Bookfox is handicapping the longlist for the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award; its prize is more than $50,000 (35,000 Euros).
The Believer has announced its shortlist for the magazine’s 2007 Book Award. 10 books, most from independent presses, definitely interesting.
If the Festival of Books takes this advice to include a songwriter panel each year, I hereby volunteer to interview Elvis Costello in ‘09.
A benefit auction for the Interstitial Arts Foundation: jewelry based on stories. Pretty!
This, not so much. Does it come in Tiffany-box blue?
Mark Sarvas, who is a litblog friend, has published his first novel (Harry, Revised); it was reviewed in Sunday’s New York Times. Gawker characterized the review as “extraordinarily mean-spirited,” and if anyone knows mean-spirited, it’s Gawker.
I maintain that reviewers should call ‘em as they see ‘em — lord knows, someone is bound to take issue with one of my reviews some day — but I think this review was kinda cheaty.
The reviewer never quotes any passage at length, instead using itty-bitty snippets (the longest is 8 words). This can hardly represent a novel fairly. At one point, the reviewer lists seven words that he claims Sarvas uses “despite his not knowing their precise meanings.” Now since I know Mark to be an erudite man, I find this unlikely; but why not let the work speak for itself? If “enormity” is misused, please, show us how.
What’s omitted from the review is that the novel has a farcical side, and that the style — as much as it might annoy the reviewer — serves that component of the story.
A more thoughtful review is here; more comments here. And Mark answers questions from the LA Times here.
Host Jim Ruland and his lovely wife hang out during the intermission.
I have more to say, but my plane is boarding. Adios!
Good news: Maud Newton throws a story into the universe, the universe throws her a $1500 prize.
Good news: I’m catching up with back issues of One Story and “Bar Joke, Arizona” is great.
Good news: My coursework at Pitt is done! I turn in my thesis this summer. Looks like my grad school GPA is 3.9. Tra la!
Good news: when you go see a blockbuster at the big old Vista theater in LA, you’ll find that the manager has dressed up as the main character. Meet Ironman.
Good news: I will be in LA for Mark Sarvas‘ Sunday night book party at Vermin on the Mount!
Good news: I have an LA apartment! Three weeks from now I’ll be living in a 1923 apartment building with a front desk and a cloverleaf pool and one of my favorite LA bars on the ground floor.
With a posse of eager readers spread across UCLA’s campus, Jacket Copy has been hopping all weekend. That’s where I wrote about James Ellroy giving me grammar lessons (I swear). Check out the festivities.
Last night Andrew O’Hagan took the book prize in fiction for Be Near Me. (complete list of winners). As Junot Diaz has been sweeping the big awards this year, O’Hagan’s win was a refreshing change of pace. Upset, even.
As for upset, that was me as I tried, unsuccessfully, to liveblog the awards. I couldn’t get online inside Royce Hall, although I’d easily connected 30 minutes before on UCLA’s network. After rebooting twice, with the awards underway, I was prying into my network settings to try — fruitlessly — to fix whatever was going wrong when the man behind me leaned over and asked me to put the laptop away. The man was Kenneth Turan. Oh, I love his criticism! Oh, I was so embarrassed!
Master of Ceremonies Gay Talese was mid-introduction, which as far as I could tell was about how all writers are overly attached to typing at their laptops. If he went on from there, I was too miserable to hear it; Royce Hall was darkened for the event and I was huddled near the wall, illuminated by a telltale rectangular glow of light.
I shut the laptop. For the rest of the ceremony, I used my old-style blogging device: pen and Moleskine.
Theory is good but it doesn’t prevent things from existing.
- Charcot to Freud
That comment I left about not knowing about voting problems? I take it back. My friend Katy had voting problems.
Claws are coming out for Sloane Crosley, the cutest book publicist turned memoirist ever. Rachel, try to be nice.
Small Beer is doing the free download thing with John Kessel’s new book, The Baum Plan for Financial Independence (no, it’s not really about finances). Highly recommended by Gwenda.
Heading to LA tomorrow! I’ll be at the LA Times Book Prizes Friday night and the Festival of Books all day Saturday and Sunday. Cecil is on two panels, Mark on one, Laila on one, Sarah on one, Antoine on one, Tod on two … I need a clone.
sing it with me now - it’s Pennsylvania primary day.
Obama-ama mo-mama-ama Obama-mama Obama
Obama-ama mo-mama-ama Obama-mama Obama
Obama-ama mo-mama-ama Obama-mama Obama