What It Is: 7/27/09

What I’m reading: I finished A Drifting Life, and started Edwin Mullhouse, which came up in last week’s 0-fer post.

What I’m listening to: I had Underworld Day at my office last week. That kept everyone away.

What I’m watching: Things Change, Napoleon Dynamite, Get Shorty, some Arrested Development, and the second-to-last episode of this season of The Deadliest Catch.

What I’m drinking: Juniper Green, another one of my snooty-ass highbrow gins.

What Rufus is up to: Another grey-hike, a bath. We were considering taking care of the latter this weekend, and his decision during the former to start tromping through muddy puddles sealed the deal.

Where I’m going: Scotch-Bowl night this Saturday! It’s a big benefit evening for our greyhound rescue group. I get to show off my dainty wrists by weakly flinging a bowling ball. Joy!

What I’m happy about: That Rickey Henderson’s Hall of Fame induction speech was as entertaining as I’d hoped.

What I’m sad about: Having to revise my opinion that Fight Club was 2/3rds of a good movie before going off the rails. Upon review, it’s turn-for-the-bad takes place almost exactly at the halfway point.

What I’m worried about: That you guys will get get mad if I use bit.ly URLs instead of the original URLs for Unrequired Reading links. Let me know if that would bother you. That is, do you roll over my links and see where they point before you click through? If you do, then my converting over to bit.ly would be a problem.

What I’m pondering: Whether the process of re-scanning all my books for Delicious Library will lead to my chucking at least 100 more of them into the “I’ll never read this in my lifetime” pile.

Sally Mander

It was one damp greyhound hike today up in Wawayanda State Park. I’m glad Amy brought along the bug spray, because we’d have been eaten alive without it.

And our remains would’ve been noshed on by this guy!

But instead we had a nice, long meander through the woods. Not exactly a lazy Sunday, but hey: enjoy the pix.

The B.S. Report

I’m too giddy with anticipation of Rickey Henderson’s Hall of Fame induction speech to do any real blogging this weekend, dear readers! I know it’s too much to hope that he’ll deliver his speech in the third person, but chances are it’ll be a memorable speech (not as awesome as Ozzie Smith’s, but hey).

To tide you over, I offer up a post from fellow St. John’s alum Bourgeois Surrender. A few weeks ago in Unrequired Reading, I linked to Fired from the Canon, about “canonical” books that don’t deserve that status. I was too busy to write about the list and the comments, but it turns out that B.S. ruminated on the topic for a bit and offered up his takes on the books mentioned there. I liked his exploration of Absalom, Absalom!, a book I really need to read again. (He closes with some thoughts on National Geographic and Children of Paradise, but those are entertaining too.)

* * *

In honor of this evening’s fine dining experience — I’m taking Amy to Chef’s Table, a wonderful French restaurant here in NJ — I’ll also link to Bourgeois Surrender’s take on fine dining.

I think he may be conflating Really Amazing Restaurants with Very Formal Restaurants, but I can understand where he’s coming from. Thanks to years of business travel, I’ve learned to appreciate Really Amazing Restaurants, even when they’re a little pricey.

Two years ago, I met up with my pal Elayne at Otto, the Mario Batali pizza restaurant near Washington Square. During our meander after (she was chaperoning two teenagers who were in town to see a Korn concert at South Street Seaport), she mentioned another Batali restaurant, Babbo. She mentioned that Babbo was so expensive, she felt it wouldn’t be right to eat there. She’s progressive, politically speaking.

As is my wont, all I could do is quote from Miller’s Crossing: “You’re missing out on a complete life.”

(While our recent meal at Batali’s Del Posto with some food-blogger friends of Amy’s was nothing to write home about, it was the single best service-experience I’ve ever had in a restaurant. The wait-staff was mind-bendingly good.)

When my brother and his family were visiting last month, he told me that a friend of his from college had recently gotten hitched. The bachelor party took place in Las Vegas and the bill for one dinner of 20 patrons came out to $6,000. I said, “Yeah? That’s $300 each. If you’re buying wine or booze, you can hit that number in no time.”

I think he was a little shocked at my blitheness. It’s not that I go out and spend that sort of cash on meals, but I’ve been out with clients to good restaurants and peeked at the check before my boss picks it up.

That said, my brother’s circumstances and fine dining opportunities are different than mine. He has two children and doesn’t drink. Our lives sure have diverged over the years.

All of which is my roundabout way of saying, people shouldn’t splurge on fancy meals when they can’t pay their bills, but sometimes an expensive meal is worth it. (And I can understand how working people with children would be averse to this sorta thing.)

Now go read some Bourgeois Surrender!

Laser? I hardly know her!

Time for another trip to the Museum of Jurassic Technology, dear readers! This installment of “Found in the Garage” leaps from the ancient days of the reel-to-reel recorder to . . . the ancient days of the first CD player!

What you see is a Hitachi DA-1000, which evidently was The Bomb of 1st gen CD players. It may not be capable of playing home-burned CDs, but it is old enough to buy you alcohol, dating back to around 1983. Here’s some guy’s video of it in action.

(Note: I may still have my Toshiba home DVD player from 2000 somewhere, but I’m sorta hoping that I managed to lose it a few years ago.)

The Unflappable Hart

On our walk around Skyline Lake this morning, Rufus & I stumbled upon a deer who seemed to think that he owned his side of the street. Seriously, I was standing 2 or 3 feet away from him (the iPhone camera makes things look a little further off) with an 80 lb. dog, and he showed no sign of nervousness:

Except for the ears.

Pom0-fer

Gil in his 20s couldn’t have imagined that he’d one day put a thousand-plus-page Thomas Pynchon novel back on the shelf and think, “I will never get around to reading this.” He also couldn’t have imagined that he’d spend years reading Montaigne’s essays and, upon finishing that thousand-plus-page volume, think, “I have to go back and start this from the beginning.”

But there you are. It’s the same theme you read from me a dozen times before: As I’ve grown older, I have less and less interest in contemporary fiction. Especially the (poorly defined) postmodern stuff.

I was quite a pomo in my college days, but I’ve learned to appreciate the merits of a, well, traditional lifestyle in my later years. Unlike other college-era decisions, this one had little to do with trying to piss off my parents. I think rather I had a desire to be New. I wanted to treat This Very Moment as an unprecedented one, unconstrained by past rules and laws. I imagined that novels had to be Encyclopedic in order to capture the world.

In short, I was a bullshit artist.

In grad school I started wending my way back to the beginnings of literature — as well as science & math, politics & society, and philosophy & religion, not to mention poetry, but I’m still a sucker for novels — and began to understand how much of modern writing was merely an echo of the trends, themes and devices that were in use nearly from the beginning.

Still, the occasion of this LA Times piece on the 61 essential postmodern reads interested me a little, at least in an 0-fer kinda way. (There’s also a good 2-part interview with John O’Brien (1 and 2), the publisher of The Dalkey Archive. My tastes and interest have diverged pretty far from Mr. O’Brien’s mission, but I respect his vision for the press, his tenacity, and his attempt to justify publishing such esoterically unreadable works as Carole Maso’s AVA. It’s almost like the Bizarro World version of the Criterion Collection’s decision to put out a high-end version of Michael Bay’s Armageddon.)

Unlike previous times I’ve broken down literary lists for an 0-fer post, I found that I needed to granulate this one a little more finely. In addition to “Read it,” “Read something by the author,” “0-fer” and “Who?”, I found that there were a bunch of books on this list that I started and never finished. Rather than put them in the “Read something by” list, I decided to add “Started, never finished.” It’s probably meaningful that this list has so many books that fall into that category. I should probably add “Will never attempt to finish” and “Why did I waste my time with this?” or “Read, but regret”, but no need to go overboard. I’ll just make little annotations on some of ’em instead.

Without further ado:

READ IT

  • New York Trilogy – Paul Auster – WHY?!
  • Labyrinths Jorge Luis Borges
  • Naked Lunch – William S. Burroughs – this appreciation of it will make you not want to read it
  • If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler – Italo Calvino – I like Invisible Cities more, but it was my first experience with Calvino and the book was given to me by a high school teacher who meant a lot to me
  • House of Leaves – Mark Danielewski – did have some genuinely creepy sections, but also some useless typographical gimmicks and descents into unreadability
  • The Man in the High Castle – Philip K. Dick – I gotta reread this sometime
  • The Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne – high school; it’s on my Kindle
  • Absalom! Absalom! – William Faulkner – the favorite book of one of my best friends
  • “Metamorphosis” – Franz Kafka
  • Pale Fire – Vladimir Nabokov – whoa, nelly, what a mind-blowingly wonderful book . . . and Mary McCarthy agrees with me!
  • Gravity’s Rainbow – Thomas Pynchon – I liked it less when I reread it a few years ago, but I dug the Rilkean segments more; it’s sorta like how I was all into Rorschach when I read The Watchmen as a teen, but feel more sympathy for the Night Owl now.
  • The Counterlife – Philip Roth – reread it a year or two ago; might be my least favorite of his Zuckerman books
  • Hamlet – William Shakespeare
  • Maus I & II – Art Spiegelman
  • Slaughterhouse-Five– Kurt Vonnegut – “There’s a time and a place for everything, children, and that’s college!”
  • Infinite Jest – David Foster Wallace – I’m glad that I finished this book, if only because it enables me to warn people away from reading it, if they’re on the fence. That said, some people consider it the most important book in their lives; those people tend not to be friends of mine, so hey

STARTED, NEVER FINISHED

  • A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – Dave Eggers – bored me silly on a biz trip in 2000
  • Hopscotch – Julio Cortazar – all my pomo friends tell me it’s amazing, but I gave up when it occurred to me that it should’ve been printed in the same font as my old Choose-Your-Own-Adventure books
  • Everything Is Illuminated – Jonathan Safran Foer – I think the sections with the eastern European guy narrating were just text that was run through a thesaurus, with deliberately clunky words chosen to replace the regular ones; I quit after 50 pages
  • JR – William Gaddis – I’ll probably go back and give this a shot someday
  • The Tunnel – William Gass – I will never go back and give this a shot, despite how beautifully some of it is written, which is why I recently gave it away to someone
  • Edwin Mullhouse – Steven Millhauser – one of David Gates’ favorite books, and something I just need to make time for; I promise I’ll get back to it, not least because of its similarities to Pale Fire
  • The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy – Laurence Sterne – it’s on my Kindle

READ SOMETHING BY THE AUTHOR

  • The Atrocity Exhibition – J.G. Ballard
  • Giles Goat-Boy – John Barth – I don’t believe I ever finished anything of his, but I liked the jaunty style of The Floating Opera, as I recall
  • The Mezzanine – Nicholson Baker – I read Vox, and wondered why a guy with such a tin ear would write a novel comprised solely of dialogue
  • Great Jones Street – Don Delillo – don’t get me started
  • The Book of Laughter and Forgetting – Milan Kundera – I used to read The Unbearable Lightness of Being back in college, whenever I went through a breakup; it got to a point where I could finish the book in under 2 hours
  • The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana – Umberto Eco
  • Tours of the Black Clock – Steve Erickson – I read some of his essays, and started a nonfiction book of his on the 1996 election
  • Motherless Brooklyn – Jonathan Lethem – I liked his redo of Omega the Unknown but haven’t tried his prose
  • The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle – Haruki Murakami – read most of his non-fiction book about the Aum Shinri Kyo gas attack on the Tokyo subways
  • American Splendor – Harvey Pekar – I’ve read a bunch of these comics, but not everything, because I couldn’t stand some of the more prosaically drawn strips
  • The Rings of Saturn – W.G. Sebald
  • John Henry Days – Colson Whitehead

0-FER

  • In Memorium to Identity – Kathy Acker – should that be “Memoriam”? I’m too lazy to check. Maybe I’ll just appropriate the spelling from a canonical work instead.
  • The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood
  • 60 Stories – Donald Barthelme
  • G – John Berger
  • The Loser – Thomas Bernhard – I think I owned this and Concrete, because someone suggested I reissue a few of Bernhard’s books, back when I was a publisher, but I never opened ’em. Sigh.
  • 2666 – Roberto Bolaño – I believe no one has actually read this book, and that it will actually become the hipster pickup book of its time
  • Anatomy of Melancholy – Robert Burton
  • The Universal Baseball Association, Henry J. Waugh, Proprietor – Robert Coover
  • City of God – E.L. Doctorow
  • Out of Sheer Rage: Wrestling With D. H. Lawrence – Geoff Dyer
  • Remainder – Tom McCarthy
  • The Lime Twig – John Hawkes – I have a copy of Second Skin down in my library; I like to think I’ll get around to it
  • The Lazarus Project – Aleksandar Hemon
  • Dispatches – Michael Herr
  • Skin – Shelley Jackson
  • Wittgenstein’s Mistress – David Markson
  • Women and Men – Joseph McElroy
  • At Swim-Two-Birds – Flann O’Brien
  • The Things They Carried – Tim O’Brien – my pal Elayne lent me this a while back, and I really need to get to it
  • Mulligan Stew – Gilbert Sorrentino - I think I used to own a Grove edition of this, but I don’t think I ever opened it
  • Trance – Christopher Sorrentino – Like father, unlike son; I didn’t even own a copy of this book

WHO?

  • The Hundred Brothers – Donald Antrim
  • Log of the S.S. Mrs. Unguentine – Stanley Crawford
  • I Am Not Sidney Poitier – Percival Everett
  • Notable American Women – Ben Marcus
  • PopCo – Scarlett Thomas

If you want to find out what I have read over the past 20 years, it’s just a click away!

Left-Wing Nutjobbery

Another day, another pinko leftist newspaper railing about income inequality and how it demolishes the Social Security fund:

Executives and other highly compensated employees now receive more than one-third of all pay in the U.S., according to a Wall Street Journal analysis of Social Security Administration data — without counting billions of dollars more in pay that remains off federal radar screens that measure wages and salaries.

. . . The growing portion of pay that exceeds the maximum amount subject to payroll taxes has contributed to the weakening of the Social Security trust fund. In May, the government said the Social Security fund would be exhausted in 2037, four years earlier than was predicted in 2008.

I was going to go into a whole Colbertian ramble on the left-wing moonbats at the Wall Street Journal, but frankly it’s just a good article about the ramifications of executive pay scales. Give it a read.

Lost in the Supermarket: Through the ‘S’ Bend

In response to popular demand (okay, one commenter), Lost in the Supermarket is back! I’d been thinking about resurrecting this Tuesday-morning feature for a few weeks, and my wife’s trip to the supermarket last weekend clinched it!

What other venue could possibly be appropriate for the sheer inappropriateness of . . . Deep Reach toilet bowl cleaner?

As Amy put it, “Shouldn’t the dispenser be a rubber fist?”

What S Bend?

Back next week with something less toilet humor-ish. I mean, not much less. After all, this blog once had an “about the author” tagline of “Gil Roth: Lowering the bar since 1971.”

See the whole Lost in the Supermarket series

What It Is: 7/20/09

What I’m reading: Killshot, by Elmore Leonard, and A Drifting Life, by Yoshihiro Tatsumi.

What I’m listening to: Neko Case’s Middle Cyclone.

What I’m watching: We tried watching Rachel Getting Married, on the recommendation of Robert Wilonsky or someone else I occasionally trust, but every single character was so boring and unlikable that we gave up and watched Mamet’s House of Games.

What I’m drinking: Bluepoint Blueberry Ale.

What Rufus is up to: Hiking, jumping in more bodies of water, and otherwise just getting used to the summer heat, now that it’s semi-arrived.

Where I’m going: Nowhere in particular, although I keep thinking I should get into the city sometime to visit friends.

What I’m happy about: That problem with the downstairs freezer was a) what I figured (a blown board in the thermostat) and b) easy and relatively cheap to fix (I’ll install the $60 replacement part myself, although we needed an $80 service call last weekend to diagnose it).

What I’m sad about: That my voice is shot because I tried having a conversation in a noisy bar yesterday afternoon. A bunch of greyhound-owners were having a get-together (sans doggies) at a nearby restaurant/bar, and evidently the live music (Celtic band Irish Whiskey or somesuch) starts playing at four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon there. So now I sound like mid-game Phil Jackson.

What I’m worried about: Eh. Not much of anything. Which may be a sign of depression, but I think it’s more just a general easing of tension after a rough two-month span.

What I’m pondering: The question, “What’s the movie of the decade?” I think I’ll post about it later this week, from my rather limited perspective. At present, my problem is that the two that jump to mind came out in 1999.