Archive for February 2004

What’s Been Going On

It’s been some time since I’ve been able to update, as the month of February just hasn’t been a great one around these parts.  There was the madness of job candidate season, though the candidates themselves and their various visits were great.  There were committee crises.  There have been, and continue to be, the general bits of teaching nuttiness:  big classes, many senior theses, and the like.  Most recently, I’ve been down with a nasty bout of bronchitis, an illness that arrived out of nowhere and is showing no signs of packing its bags and heading for home, gigantic antibiotics notwithstanding.

But there’s been some other stuff, too, and it’s stuff that’s hard to write about.  Hard to face.  Southern California’s a wonderfully diverse place, and Claremont’s a generally enlightened town, and the students here embody the best of the liberal arts tradition.  But things have gone hugely wrong this semester, and it’s bringing to the surface all the stuff that always lies festering under even the most liberal of American communities.

And it’s really, really ugly.

Read the rest of this entry »

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Who Says People Suck?

A couple of guys in Minneapolis may have had one of the finest ideas of all time:

Today a coworker of mine had a thought to send flowers to a random couple waiting in line at SF city hall.

He called a florist and they agreed to do it. He told them to deliver to any couple—it didn’t matter who—standing in line to get married, with his blessing. The card will read simply “With love, from Minneapolis, Minnesota.”

Once they understood, they were very touched and thought it was a great idea.

He told another co-worker who did the same thing. And now we want to start a movement. Wouldn’t that be cool if people from all over the country, gay, straight and otherwise, started sending flowers to the people waiting in line to get married.

Call it The Big Gay Bouquet call it Flowers from the Heartland. Call it whatever you want, but help us get this off the ground.

Call Flowers on the Bay at 888-217-9119 and order a bouquet to be delivered tomorrow at noon.

And Tell all of your friends to do it.

Because straight or gay, we believe and we know many people who believe, support and celebrate the right to marriage. And we’d like to show it. We’d like to see all of the people standing in line with flowers of support from all over the country.

PS. Flowers on the Bay seems like a small shop and might get overwhelmed if this really did catch on. I have a feeling that any Bay-Area flower shop, perhaps even doing FTD through your local florist, could work.

Needless to say, the idea has taken off, with a little help from MetaFilter.  And stories about the results have started to hit the press.

If only our governor were so generous.

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Oh. My. God.

I’ve just gotten the scariest Google referral ever.  My skin is positively crawling.

To my good friends at the FBI:  this is not that kind of site.  I swear.

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It’s the End of the Buffyverse as We Know It

Ack.  After years of devoted Buffy fandom, it took months for me to recover from the show’s semi-untimely (though extraordinarily well-done) end.

Now, after finally this year getting involved in Angel, I find out that they’re shutting that one down, too?

This may be more disappointment than I can handle today.

[UPDATE, 02.15.04, 2.45 pm:  There’s a petition aimed at persuading the WB to save the series.]

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Simple Math, or a Word Problem

((Many job candidates + very large classes) * a series of committee crises) + hours of dealing with comment spam = zero ability to post actual new thoughts this week.

Thinking will return soon.  (I hope.)

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Oh, That’s Just Charming

Sometime last night I got slammed with comment spam—more than 250 comments before I was able to stem the tide—all of which were ostensibly advertising a series of blogs.  Here’s the cute thing, though:  many of them were positively self-referential, sort of meta-spam.  A choice quote:

Wow, the spam on your page has gotten out of controll. I don’t even know if you’ll get this comment or not, but I guess I’ll try posting it for the heck of it…They say there’s strength in numbers, so I get a couple of others I know to come here and comment, too.

There’s something both irritating and ingenious about this:  spam about spam; targeting blogs to advertise blogs.  My favorite of the comments, though, is the one that advertised its own undoing:

I don’t know about you, but I think the MT spam filter has to be updated constantly. It DOES, however, work pretty well. I’ve tried it on my own blog and uploaded it into the new plugins folder that came with the lateset release of MT 2.44. I think this guy has the most up to date filter: [URL deleted]…I think that’s the address…He’s got a download set up so its super convenient. Personally, I think MT should be taking the lead in this, but that’s for another post :).

Nice to have the reminder, I suppose, to keep the blacklist updated.

[UPDATE, 1.58 pm:  If you want to update yours, here’s mine.] [UPDATE, 5.27.04: Post-site-migration, mt-blacklist no longer in use.]

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“We’ve Been Misread!”

There’s a certain irony hanging over Christopher Dreher’s followup [Salon.com; subscription or ad-viewing required] on the changes afoot at the New York Times Book Review.  At precisely the moment when Bill Keller, in an interview with the Book Babes, seems to be calling for the dumbing-down of the NYTBR, he’s also claiming that these calls have been “badly misread”:

Keller and Erlanger have spent much of the last two weeks doing damage control, complaining that their words were taken out of context and insisting that “dumbing down” the Book Review is the last thing on their mind. (For their part, Hammond and Heltzel insist the interview quotes are rock solid.) But the fact remains that these renowned journalists—Keller won a Pulitzer as a foreign correspondent—are not literary men. A clearer picture of what they perhaps meant to say has emerged in later interviews, and while the Times leadership does not plan to eliminate the coverage of literary fiction, it does want the Book Review to emphasize titles with topical importance, such as political and foreign policy titles. (Which are probably what Keller and Erlanger grab as reading material, considering their backgrounds.) Author interviews, reporting on the publishing biz, and other format changes are also being considered.

“We’re not handing it over with a formula,” Keller says about the editorial transition, adding that the Book Review will actually be expanded after he chooses the new editor later this month. “We’re going to choose a person because of their high standards, imagination and ideas, and they’ll have considerable license in shaping the review.” (As recently reported by the New York Observer, the final candidates are believed to include former Book Review columnist Judith Shulevitz, former Newsweek editor Sarah Crichton, Slate columnist Ann Hulbert and Atlantic literary editor Benjamin Schwarz.)

Whatever Keller and Erlanger say now, the Book Babes article conveyed a dismissive indifference to literary books that was almost like a parody of many publishers’ and readers’ worst suspicions about the Book Review. Except for perfunctory nods, some say, literary coverage has not only been downsized and simplified over the past decade but also undermined from the very top—and not only at the Times but in other mainstream venues as well. Keller claims that the idea that he wants to demote literary fiction was “badly misread,” but some of his Book Babes quotes resist reinterpretation, such as his call for fewer and shorter first-novel reviews and this zinger about the future of fiction coverage:

“Of course, some fiction needs to be done,” he said. “We’ll do the new Updike, the new [Philip] Roth, the new Jonathan Franzen or Zadie Smith. But there are not a lot of them, it seems to me.”

This concept of the pinnacle of world literature—three American males (two of them over 70) and a young (hot) Englishwoman—might be reasonable coming from a middle-aged guy with a news background, but it isn’t very heartening. Franzen and Roth certainly produce noteworthy books, but for all his incomparable achievement, the idea that Updike is still a vibrant American writer suggests an ossified conception of literary culture. Mentioning no female American writers, when the majority of American fiction readers are women, seems especially unfortunate. And where would Zadie Smith be if publications like the New York Times had passed over her first novel, the international bestseller “White Teeth”?

The irony, of course, rests in Keller’s claims of having been misread at precisely the same moment that he’s demonstrated the limitations inherent in his own reading.  The NYTBR seems in particular to want to avoid the readers who might be capable of discering the fine nuances in Keller’s statements.  It all makes one start feeding narratives of decline, imagining a halcyon past in which people genuinely cared about books, a past, perhaps, like the days of John Leonard:

Author and critic John Leonard, a former Times Book Review chief whose reign from 1971 to 1975 is often remembered as a high-water mark, found Keller’s comments especially troubling. “To seriously propose not paying attention to first novels is ludicrous,” he says. “It amounts to rampant stupidity. Criticism is discovery, not a book report or news. It means someone is doing something with language that will change the way we think and see.” He continues: “Brilliance comes from the peripheral or from the margins. You have to listen for it and call it to the attention of the readers.”

I’m always suspicious of such nostalgic revisionism, but I find myself here sucked into it, as I imagine an NYTBR run by an editor who cares about something other than book sales, who understands something about criticism and about the potential impact of literary writing.  And it simply makes me sad, imagining the future into which we’re heading instead.

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Random Links

Via Jake:  a nice slice of pi.

Via Chuck:  Fredric Jameson’s New Left Review review of Pattern Recognition.

Via wallace-l:  the finalists in the David Foster Wallace parody contest.

Via a series of links much too complex to recount:  my new favorite site I can’t believe I haven’t been reading all this time.

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The New New York Times Book Review

Following up on the recent mini-rant on the decline and fall of the New York Times Book ReviewYankee Pot Roast has uncovered the editorial that didn’t quite make it to print:

Hey there, true-believers! Welcome to the New New York Times Book Review! Or, as we like to call it, NYTBR eXtreme! We’re reviewing books to the max!

That’s right, gone are the days of stodgy book reviews of boring, fancy-pants, highbrow “literature”, enjoyed only by snooty bespectacled professors with suede elbow patches on their corduroy jackets! No sir, not no more! This is NYTBR Max!

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Perhaps the Dumbest Teaching Question Ever

Here’s something I probably ought to have thought of before the semester started, perhaps even before planning on teaching a class like The Big Novel:  It’s really, really hard to get students to talk actively about a text they’ve only read part of.  They seem to want to hold all judgment in reserve until having completed the whole thing.

Or perhaps it’s just hard to get my students to do such mid-text talking.  Which would imply, of course, that the problem is located not in the texts, and not in the students, but in the professor.

So here’s what’s to my mind perhaps the dumbest teaching question ever, and certainly the dumbest one I’ve ever asked in a public place:  How do you get your students to engage actively with a small piece of a long text before they’ve read the whole thing?

As a follow-up:  How do you get them to perform such active engagement when the text under consideration consciously presents itself as a mystery of sorts, raising question after question and hinting that answers will eventually be found, which increases that tendency toward the deferral of judgment, even though you, who have read the book several times, know perfectly well that such answers, if they’re to be found at all, aren’t located at the text’s end?

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