What an overhyped addition to the already overcrowded "20-something inspects navel, whines unattractively, and expects the world to care" shelf this wWhat an overhyped addition to the already overcrowded "20-something inspects navel, whines unattractively, and expects the world to care" shelf this was....more
Julian Barnes was London correspondent for The New Yorker from 1989 to 1994. This book is a collection of columns written during that period.
And itJulian Barnes was London correspondent for The New Yorker from 1989 to 1994. This book is a collection of columns written during that period.
And it's terrific. Barnes is extraordinarily smart and unfathomably erudite, qualities which - oddly enough - don't always serve him well in his fiction (he can't help showing off, which distracts the reader and detracts from the writing). But in a collection of reportage pieces like this one, his intelligence and breadth of knowledge add to the quality of the essays.
He is also hilarious. This list of sub-entries under the index entry for "clothes" gives an indication of how funny he is -
Queen's jodhpurs shabbiness of MPs reduced shabbiness of MPs Nonna Longden's knickers tantric influence on Mrs Thatcher's wardrobe John major's grey suits John Major's underpants Glenda Jackson's wardrobe positive smartness of Labour MPs badnews cufflinks Queen's clothing allowance coat-folding at Buckingham palace more badnews cufflinks regal aspect of Mrs Thatcher's frocks incineration of Chanel dresses Queen's fuchsia ensemble British underwear Tony Blair's jacket Pirie knot for bow ties
The list of sub-entries under the index entry for "Margaret Thatcher" is side-splittingly funny, but too long to include in this review, alas....more
Full disclosure: I have a major intellectual crush on David Foster Wallace. Yes, yes, I know all about his weaknesses - the digressions, the rampant fFull disclosure: I have a major intellectual crush on David Foster Wallace. Yes, yes, I know all about his weaknesses - the digressions, the rampant footnote abuse, the flaunting of his amazing erudition, the mess that is 'Infinite Jest'. I know all this, and I don't care. Because when he is in top form, there's nobody else I would rather read. The man is hilarious; I think he's a mensch, and I don't believe he parades his erudition just to prove how smart he is. I think he can't help himself - it's a consequence of his wide-ranging curiosity. At heart he's a geek, but a charming, hyper-articulate geek. Who is almost frighteningly smart.
The pieces in “Consider the Lobster” have appeared previously in Rolling Stone, The Atlantic Monthly, the New York Observer, the Philadelphia Enquirer, Harper’s, Gourmet, and Premiere magazines. Among them are short meditations on Updike’s ‘Toward the end of Time’, on Dostoyevsky, on Kafka’s humor, and on the ‘breathtakingly insipid autobiography’ of tennis player Tracy Austin. An intermediate length piece describes Foster Wallace’s (eminently sane) reaction to the attacks of September 11th. Each of these shorter essays is interesting, but the meat and potatoes of the book is in the remaining five, considerably longer, pieces. They are:
Big Red Son: a report on the 1998 Adult Video News awards (the Oscars of porn) in Las Vegas. Consider the Lobster: a report on a visit to the annual Maine Lobster Festival (for Gourmet magazine). Host: a report on conservative talk radio, based on extensive interviews conducted with John Ziegler, host of “Live and Local” on Southern California’s KFI. Up Simba: an account of seven days on the campaign trail with John McCain in his 2000 presidential bid (for Rolling Stone). Authority and American Usage: a review of Bryan Garner’s “A Dictionary of Modern American Usage” , which serves as a springboard for a terrific exegesis of usage questions and controversies.
Here’s what I like about David Foster Wallace’s writing: I know of nobody else who writes as thoughtfully and intelligently. That he manages to write so informatively, with humor and genuine wit, on almost any subject under the sun is mind-blowing – it’s also why I am willing to forgive his occasional stylistic excesses. (Can you spell ‘footnote’?) You may not have a strong interest in lobsters or pornography, but the essays in question are terrific. The reporting on Ziegler and McCain is amazingly good, heartbreakingly so, because it makes the relative shallowness of most reporting painfully evident. Finally, the article on usage is a tour de force – when it first appeared in Harper’s, upon finishing it, I was immediately moved to go online and order a copy of Garner’s book (which is just as good as DFW promised).
How can you not enjoy an essay that begins as follows?
Did you know that probing the seamy underbelly of US lexicography reveals ideological strife and controversy and intrigue and nastiness and fervor on a near Lewinskian scale?
....... (several other rhetorical questions) ......
Did you know that US lexicography even had a seamy underbelly?
And which later contains sentences such as: Teachers who do this are dumb. , This argument is not quite the barrel of drugged trout that Methodological Descriptivism was, but it’s still vulnerable to objections. and – my personal favorite – This is so stupid it practically drools.
This is not the superb collection I would expect from Ira Glass. In fact, it's an odd collection all round - the puzzling It's deja lu all over again.
This is not the superb collection I would expect from Ira Glass. In fact, it's an odd collection all round - the puzzling question is why it exists at all.
Don't get me wrong. The quality of most of the contributions to this anthology is very high. But most of the pieces are not new. Glass describes his selection criterion: "most of the stories in this book come from a stack of favorite writing that I've kept behind my desk for years". What does this yield?
Michael Lewis on Jonathan Lebed (the 15-year old who was sued for white-collar crime by the SEC). Malcolm Gladwell: Six Degrees of Lois Weisberg. Chuck Klosterman interviewing Val Kilmer. David Foster Wallace on right-wing talk radio. Michael Pollan on buying a cow. Susan Orlean: The American Man, Age Ten. James McManus on playing in the World Series of Poker. Mark Bowden on Saddam Hussein.
and stories by Jack Hitt, Dan Savage, Lawrence Weschler, Lee Sandler and Bill Buford.
The problem is that most of the pieces in the book have appeared in print before, not once, but twice. For instance, Gladwell's piece - which is indeed a delight to read - first appeared in The New Yorker, then again in his book "The Tipping Point". Similarly, the pieces by Orlean and Weschler first appeared in The New Yorker and were subsequently republished in books by their authors. David Foster Wallace's story was first published in The Atlantic, and subsequently appeared again in the collection "Consider the Lobster". Pollan's work first appeared in The New York Times, and then again in his book "The Omnivore's Dilemma". And so on. I haven't checked, but given the general proliferation of anthologies these days (each year there are the 'best essays', 'best business writing', 'best nonrequired reading', 'best science and nature writing', and The new Yorker has taken to publishing its own anthologies as well), it wouldn't surprise me if some of these pieces have been further anthologized.
Thus, operationally, Ira's selection criterion seems to amount to choosing pieces that have been published at least twice before. Which makes one wonder why Glass felt the need to pull this book together - was he stuck for funds?
my favorite pieces: the article on Jonathan Lebed, Gladwell's piece, and Klosterman's interview of Val Kilmer. At the other end of the spectrum, the article about poker was a tedious, self-indulgent bore and Foster Wallace's abuse of footnotes is unusually rampant. Finally, and this says more about me than about the quality of the essays, but I couldn't manage to make myself finish Lee Sandlin's article about World War II, nor could I bring myself to care about Bill Buford's exploits with British soccer hooligans.
Don't buy this book. If you must read it, check your local library. ...more
The idea in this book is both interesting and important. It is not, however, substantive enough to mask the fact that this is a book-length treatment The idea in this book is both interesting and important. It is not, however, substantive enough to mask the fact that this is a book-length treatment of a magazine-length idea. There is a fair amount of padding, in the form of repetition and/or minor reformulation of material that has already been presented. The suggestion that the book is "the most important business book since 'The Tipping Point'" strikes me as gross hyperbole.
I suspect that anyone interested in the material can find adequate, more economic, exposition available on the web, without shelling out the price of the book. A focused hour with a search engine is probably enough for anyone to get up to speed on the main ideas....more
Revised rating to 5 stars (January 6th 2008), as this was one of my top 5 read in 2007.
First published in 1973, this book is an excellent, highly readRevised rating to 5 stars (January 6th 2008), as this was one of my top 5 read in 2007.
First published in 1973, this book is an excellent, highly readable overview of the major aspects of language, many of which are also discussed in later work by Steven Pinker and others.
Clear, engaging, accessible - highly recommended for anyone with an interest in language and languages....more
“The First Word”, Christine Kenneally’s “search for the origins of language” comes with its share of celebritySplit into two parts, because of length:
“The First Word”, Christine Kenneally’s “search for the origins of language” comes with its share of celebrity endorsements. The back cover contains laudatory blurbs from both Steven Pinker (“a clear and splendidly written account ...”) and author of “The Ghost Map”, Steven Johnson, (“a rare and delightful mix...”). Then there is the following gem on the inside jacket cover – “The First Word is not only a compelling historical account of our greatest intellectual faculty but a provocative consideration of what it means, finally, to be human”.
Well, it seems hardly fair to hold an author accountable for whatever silliness her publishers might assemble on a book’s exterior in the interest of boosting sales. Let’s just say that this book is ambitious in its scope and that the author is obviously academically well-qualified. My own formal qualifications in the field of linguistics are non-existent, so this review is from the point of view of a non-specialist with a keen amateur interest in the topic.
An obvious question: ‘is this a book for the non-specialist?’ I think that the publishers would like to market it as such, and that Dr. Kenneally possibly thinks of it that way. But, much as I wanted to like this book, if it is meant to be accessible to the general reader, I think it falls well short of the mark. This is not to say it’s not interesting – there are parts which I found fascinating. But it gives the distinct impression that the author did not have a well-defined audience in mind, or – if she meant it to be accessible to the general reader - she has not mastered the ability to write effectively for a non-specialist audience.
The problems manifest themselves in two main areas. First, the question of scope and organization. There is a definite sense that the author wants this to be a totally comprehensive account of the current state of knowledge. This is fine, but ultimately greatly increases the indigestibility of the book. The book’s structure is unwieldy to the point where one wonders whether Viking actually had an editor read it. A “prelude”, followed by an “introduction”, leading in to a “prologue”? What were they thinking??? The sixteen chapters of the book follow an equally awkward organizational structure. Four are devoted to specific linguists (Chomsky, Pinker & Bloom...). Seven discuss specific features of human language, such as words and syntax, but are clumsily titled. For example, grouped under the blanket heading “If you have human language...” are the “chapters” • You have something to talk about • You have words • You have gestures • You have a human brain The next three chapters are grouped under the heading “What evolves?”, and are titled • Species evolve • Culture evolves • Why things evolve That the author finds it necessary to remind us that a human brain is a prerequisite for human language, or does not appear to recognize that “why things evolve” does not answer the question “what evolves?” are, of course, minor details. Nonetheless, these potentially distracting irritants could have been avoided, given a little more aggressive intervention by a professional editor. ...more
For some reason, the essays of Oliver Sacks don't rock my world. He's got the attention-grabbing title thing down pat, and each case study does have aFor some reason, the essays of Oliver Sacks don't rock my world. He's got the attention-grabbing title thing down pat, and each case study does have a kernel of interest. But generally, I'd be just as happy if each essay were cut by 50% - most chapters didn't really sustain my interest to the end.
Full disclosure: my faint generalized lack of enthusiasm for Dr S may stem from nothing more than guilt by association with Robin Williams. I have never denied being shallow.
If you're in the mood for fun medical case studies (yes, I mean *you*, "House" fans), I'd recommend Berton Roueche's "The Medical Detectives", culled from his "Annals of Medicine" pieces in The New Yorker, over this collection....more
Updating this rating to 5 stars (January 6th, 2008), because it was one of the five best books I read in 2007.
This "classic collection of award-winninUpdating this rating to 5 stars (January 6th, 2008), because it was one of the five best books I read in 2007.
This "classic collection of award-winning medical investigative reporting", published in 1988, is an excellent book. Each of the 25 case studies originally appeared as an "Annals of medicine" piece in the New Yorker, and there's not a dud in the bunch. It's like 25 "House" episodes, but without the gratuitous obnoxiousness, condescension to the reader, or the ridiculous constraint that only a limping, misanthropic painkiller addict can be right.
I found these essays much more satisfying than those in the Oliver Sacks collection I also sampled over the weekend ("An anthropologist on Mars"). Not sure why, but there is something about Dr Sacks that rubs me the wrong way - at the very least, I'd be happier if he cut all his chapters by 50%, I don't find his ruminations nearly as fascinating as he apparently does. I suspect I'm in the minority on this one, as each new collection of his seems to receive universal acclaim. Furthermore, to be fair, the possibility has to be acknowledged that my vague "I do not like thee Doctor Fell" reaction to Sacks can be traced back to nothing more than damning him by association with Robin Williams. Because didn't Williams portray the Sacks-figure in "Awakenings"? After which there are just two words left: PATCH ADAMS ....
Note to self: strive to be a less shallow person in 2008.
In conclusion, Roueche's "The Medical Detectives" is an awesome collection. 25 fascinating case studies, each concisely and elegantly presented. 4.5 stars....more
Probably closer to 3.5 stars, but giving it only 3 wouldn't do it justice. Review to follow.Probably closer to 3.5 stars, but giving it only 3 wouldn't do it justice. Review to follow....more
I may just have to give up on reading short stories. Every so often, I am seduced anew by the breathless, hagiographic blurbs on the cover of the lateI may just have to give up on reading short stories. Every so often, I am seduced anew by the breathless, hagiographic blurbs on the cover of the latest hip author's contribution to the genre, to the point where I actually allow myself to believe that the book in question really will be "exhaustingly fascinating", "spirited and masterly", the next {Jim Shepard, Alice Munro, Chekhov, Lorrie Moore, John Cheever.....}. Hope springs eternal.
Yet somehow, things never quite turn out as promised. Usually, there will be no more than two or three good stories, nestled in the padding of half a dozen or so truly mediocre efforts. In vain I search for that promised window into the American soul, only to come away empty-handed yet again. Well, that may not be totaly fair; typically, each new collection affords further corroboration that:
America's short-story writers continue to be unduly preoccupied with depression Self-absorbed, whiny characters are not necessarily interesting; if allowed to dominate the story, they may eventually alienate the reader
A skilled author should be able to convince the reader to care about the fate of even the most obnoxious characters. Deborah Eisenberg doesn't really succeed in doing so; as a result, her stories don't pack that much of an emotional punch. based on this collection, she falls squarely in the middle of the pack. There are just six stories in the book - only one ("Like it or not") was outstanding. Two of the remaning stories were reasonably enjoyable, and one was innocuous (albeit completely banal). The remaining two were just unpleasant (containing the stock set of self-absorbed solipsists and dysfunctional family members, nursing their grudges and sniping at one another throughout). The extravagant praise lavished on this book seems completely unwarranted to me. With only one story exceptional story our of six, it is hard to justify recommending it to other goodreads members. ...more
The story of Ben Eisenstadt, inventor of Sweet 'N Low, the fortune he amassed as a result, and its effect on his family (it ripped it apart). Told by The story of Ben Eisenstadt, inventor of Sweet 'N Low, the fortune he amassed as a result, and its effect on his family (it ripped it apart). Told by his grandson, who belonged to the disinherited side of the family.
A lively account of an interesting family. Ultimately, the determinedly irreverent, self-consciously smart-assed tone of the narrator begins to pall. Anyone so determined to be clever, and to draw attention to their cleverness, runs a high risk of exhausting the reader's sympathy: about two thirds of the way through this book, I had the strong sensation of being seated next to someone in a plane whose anecdotes, though amusing, are nowhere near as amusing as their author seems to think.
This prevented me from giving it a fourth star; nonetheless, it's a pretty decent read....more
This book is showing up on several year-end "best of 2007" lists. Deservedly so, in my opinion. A fictional account of life in a pre 9/11 Chicago adveThis book is showing up on several year-end "best of 2007" lists. Deservedly so, in my opinion. A fictional account of life in a pre 9/11 Chicago advertising agency that is hitting hard times and where downsizing is suddenly a weekly reality, it's enormously readable. In part, because of the irresistibly gossipy tone that is maintained throughout, also because the author is pitch-perfect at capturing the mixture of minor irritations, backstabbing, politics, and genuine fear for one's security that characterize work life in this kind of office milieu (Technical note: almost the entire book is told in the 1st person plural "We were fractious and overpaid. Our mornings lacked promise..", which seems like an impossible challenge on the face of it, but which Joshua Ferris pulls off with elan.)
I can do no better than agree completely with one of the blurbs on the back cover (by Jim Shepard, author of "Love and hydrogen"):
"..... a hilarious and heartbreaking and surreal protrait of the modern American corporation as a carnival -- preschool? -- of infantile misbehavior and breathtakingly futile and petty and despairing competition. The real revelation here is how *moving* it all becomes: how much humanity and genuine emotional weight finally, against all odds, shine through."
It is this latter point (the book has genuine emotional heft), I think, that will ultimately help this book withstand the test of time.
This account of prion-based spongiform encephelopathic diseases covers a lot of ground: the Italian family of the title suffering from FFI (fatal famiThis account of prion-based spongiform encephelopathic diseases covers a lot of ground: the Italian family of the title suffering from FFI (fatal familial insomnia), the mysterious epidemic of kuru among the Fore tribe of New Guinea, eventually linked to the practice of eating their dead ancestors' brains, the rare genetically transmitted Creuzfeldt-Jacob disease (CJD), various animal spongiform encephelopathies, from scrapie in sheep to mad cow disease to chronic wasting disease in deer. All of these diseases share a common feature - they are transmitted by an infectious agent of a kind thought until recently by scientists to be impossible, and the incubation time from infection to manifestation of disease symptoms is remarkably long. The culprits are *prions*, which are a type of rogue protein. The idea that a protein could act as an infectious agent flew completely in the face of scientific received wisdom to date when first introduced and the science underlying this class of degenerative brain diseases is both complex and controversial.
The author's exposition is reasonably clear, but ultimately I think he does not do complete justice to the material (which is really fascinating). It may be that his scope is too ambitious - with so much ground to cover, the exposition occasionally lapses into sketchiness. To be fair, there can be no single "right" level of detail that would suit all readers, and D.T. Max generally shows good judgement about what to include to keep the exposition intelligible while moving his story along.
That said, the material related to kuru, cannibalism among the Fore, and the linkage to scrapie, CJD, and mad cow disease has already been presented in the 1998 book by Richard Rhodes, "Deadly Feasts: Tracking The Secrets Of A Terrifying New Plague". I preferred the Rhodes account - his exposition of the science was clearer, and I thought he told a better, tighter story.
However, there's not that much to choose between the two, and Max's book does have the extra material about FFI, which is interesting in its own right. Max does make one misjudgement, in my opinion, which is to include an account of his own illness (he has been diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease which, although it is a neurodegenerative muscular disorder, is neither prion-related nor an amyloid plaque). Inclusion of this essentially irrelevant material is a distraction, which just muddies the exposition.
One final criticism is that Max includes an unquestioning discussion of putative geographical "clusters" of CJD cases, based solely on their identification by patients' family members, whom he refers to as "Creutzfeldt Jakobins" (a hideous, tin-ear coinage, which he seems to think is clever). These so-called clusters are almost certainly spurious, based on an incorrect application of the relevant probability models and Max's failure to identify the error detracts from his objectivity as a science writer and contributes to a presentation of disease spread scenarios which are unduly alarmist. The discussion of possible treatment options in the final chapter also struck me as weak, an over-interpretation of what are essentially just anecdotal data. One sees this kind of over-interpretation all the time in the popular press, but I would have expected better from a science writer as experienced as D.T. Max....more
I enjoyed this book a lot, and think it deserves the good reviews it's received. I just hadn't expected it to be quite as *sad* as it was. Somehow, itI enjoyed this book a lot, and think it deserves the good reviews it's received. I just hadn't expected it to be quite as *sad* as it was. Somehow, it wasn't the more obviously depressing aspects (e.g. the persecution and torture that were routinely practiced under the Trujillo dictatorship in the Dominican Republic) that got to me so much as the smaller stuff. The continued failure of the various members of Oscar's family to connect, the accumulated hostility between generations, as well as the meanness and bullying suffered by outsider Oscar throughout, were ultimately more depressing than the earlier, more overtly brutal, events in Santo Domingo.
You keep rooting for Oscar to catch a break and he never really does. Equally depressing was the narrator's ongoing inability to transcend the machisto Latino stereotype of repeated infidelity because of an apparent need to screw any woman that came in range. Only the women are strong in this book, and only one of them appears to be granted a shot at happiness.
Fortunately, the book is not a total descent into darkness - primarily because the main narrator is sympathetic, funny and smart. He provides insightful commentary on Oscar's family affairs (even if he is unable to translate the insights to his own life). Oscar's family history unfolds according to a relatively complicated framework, intercutting past and present scenes using several flashbacks. Handled inexpertly, this has the potential to be confusing and/or irritating*, but Diaz manages it perfectly.
(* The execrable "Behind the Scenes at the Museum" comes to mind.)
A few random comments:
1. Diaz doesn't eschew the apparently obligatory 'magical' element, but I found the symbolism of the mongoose-lion critter in the canefield a bit murky (though I did learn the new word 'chabin(e)' : Person of mixed-blood who appears to bear the characteristics of only the lighter skinned parent; sometimes referred to in English as being "yellow.")
2. I think this book must achieve some kind of record for the number of acknowledgements made by the author. The impulse to thank everyone who ever gave him encouragement is understandable, perhaps even laudable. But I personally would have drawn the line at thanking whole cities (Perth Amboy?)
Definitely one of those books which promised more hilarity in the bookstore than it was able to deliver at home. I think Richard Wiseman Ph.D. would dDefinitely one of those books which promised more hilarity in the bookstore than it was able to deliver at home. I think Richard Wiseman Ph.D. would dearly love to have us believe that he is a brilliantly zany individual, but - truth be told - most of this material never rises above being mildly interesting, and the style is a closer approximation to 'dorky' than 'zany'.
A couple of chapters fail completely in my view - pretty much all of the material related to "what your birth date really says about you" is fluff. There's not much substance in the chapter on superstition and people's belief in the paranormal either. And surely people should have figured out by now that "explorations into the psychology of humor" are invariably notable only for their soporific, humorless quality, so including 50 pages on this topic was a decision with high albatross potential.
More successful were the chapters on how to tell if people are lying, decision-making (including how to write a personal ad that will succeed with men/women), and altruism.
A decidedly mixed bag. The author's decision to end his introduction with the sentence "Let the quirkology begin" could possibly have been considered adequate warning....more
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