Current t-shirt: button-down, I'm afraid (went out today).
Current music: Haven't turned it on, yet, but am considering Gillian Welsh.
Had tea today with Steve Wasserman, formerly Book Review editor of the LATimes. Surely old curmudgeon and really refreshing. He's from the old school, where book reviewing means a literary discussion, ala Edmund Wilson, or at least Susan Sontag.
He's doing a new book review section for TruthDigg.com, and of course, I pitched myself. Trying to be helpful, I also suggested an acquaintance of mine, LS, who write for the NYT Book Review. He paused, and said no.
Inside, I jumped. LS publishes regularly for the NYTBR and for a lot of other places, as well.
Wasserman, whom I believe used to wear all white, but does so no longer, said that he found her completely competent, but that the day after reading one of her reviews, he could remember a damned thing she said.
Inside, I went hmm.
I asked him if, after reading something I'd read, he'd ever been able to remember it the next day. Wasserman is nothing if not honest. He paused, thought, and said no.
Inside, I withered a bit. Then went hmm again.
I told him how, in book reviewing, there was subtle pressure not to ever trash anything, or to have edgy conversations. That it felt as though it was no longer the done thing. I mentioned that I'd tried it within memory with the San Francisco Chronicle, over Karen Armstrongs "A Short History of Myth," which was full of a lot of the pro-Goddess bullshit that archaeologists and historians began to give up mid-century, and had gotten my hand slapped. (I'd also tried it dissing Shalom Auslander's first book, which I compared to writing the Torah on toilet paper, then using it, but didn't mention it. In both cases, I'd been taken to task for having unkind opinions.)
Therefore, I tended not to diss things or get edgy. I like my paycheck, you see.
This made him go hmm. Then he said he was angry. I agreed, but what can one do?
So I am going to try to write reviews that Wasserman can remember the next day. Be a bit more edgy. Take some risks. Life is too short to spend it with a mouth full of other people's words.
Love and Hard Tack,
The Red Pooka!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
At home, writing.
Working on another piece. Is this life for me now? Get up, go to the desk... Golly, I even look forward to commutes when I have them.
Down side: I've forgotten how to get ready to go out the door. No more 20 min from bed to subway. Like, an hour now. If I'm lucky.
Yesterday was Chinese herbs. Today is Booz Allen doing philanthropy. Then a book review section to put together. I'm mixing manga with Jacques Couteau, want to see if they get along.
Then a review about a book about a Viking woman who turned up in the Eddas (or is it the Sagas) and in archaeololgy. I used to love the Eddas when I was a child. They're all rhythmic and wierd-namey.
Or maybe I'll switch the Viking woman with the book review section. Set Gudrid to sorting out the mer-man and the big-eyed Japanese girls.
There's gotta be more to life than this.
Oh well. Wandrin' the Bridge of Sighs in my mind.
Love and lack of exercise,
The Red Pooka!
Down side: I've forgotten how to get ready to go out the door. No more 20 min from bed to subway. Like, an hour now. If I'm lucky.
Yesterday was Chinese herbs. Today is Booz Allen doing philanthropy. Then a book review section to put together. I'm mixing manga with Jacques Couteau, want to see if they get along.
Then a review about a book about a Viking woman who turned up in the Eddas (or is it the Sagas) and in archaeololgy. I used to love the Eddas when I was a child. They're all rhythmic and wierd-namey.
Or maybe I'll switch the Viking woman with the book review section. Set Gudrid to sorting out the mer-man and the big-eyed Japanese girls.
There's gotta be more to life than this.
Oh well. Wandrin' the Bridge of Sighs in my mind.
Love and lack of exercise,
The Red Pooka!
Monday, October 1, 2007
Panelling the walls...
The panel went well. My power is in my voice - I can purr with it. Sound reasonable. Simply have to remember to. Like my magic weapon, or something.
But the panelists were all good at what they do and reasonable. Young, too, so they didn't need wrangling so much as being made to feel safe. Some tremendous talent, though. Yali Lin - I fear she's so good and such a speed demon, publishers may work her to death. Nikki Cook is frighteningly smart, and Miss Lasko-Gross gets to the gravy of how fucked up with psychology was the 20th century.
No one I knew made it, but the house was full. I'm not a big name, but the series is getting a bit of notoriety. Maybe I'll be a name eventually. Maybe I'll get that column with the LAT.
Maybe I'll change my name to Hepzibah. My mom almost named me Hepzibah. Hepzibah the pooka.
Love and good woodworking,
The Red Pooka!
But the panelists were all good at what they do and reasonable. Young, too, so they didn't need wrangling so much as being made to feel safe. Some tremendous talent, though. Yali Lin - I fear she's so good and such a speed demon, publishers may work her to death. Nikki Cook is frighteningly smart, and Miss Lasko-Gross gets to the gravy of how fucked up with psychology was the 20th century.
No one I knew made it, but the house was full. I'm not a big name, but the series is getting a bit of notoriety. Maybe I'll be a name eventually. Maybe I'll get that column with the LAT.
Maybe I'll change my name to Hepzibah. My mom almost named me Hepzibah. Hepzibah the pooka.
Love and good woodworking,
The Red Pooka!
Out of the blue
Current t-shirt: Tie-dyed flower on purple (vintage)
Current music: Sunset Rubdown (because Spesner Krug is a god)
Check out Daytrotter for a taste: http://www.daytrotter.com/article/98/sunset-rubdown-feature-band-june-12
Tonight I host a panel on young women in comics. The gist is that women are set to take over comics, and will probably do a better job than men. And oddly, having women take over is taking a marginalized form and bringing it mainstream. How's that for lit-crit turnaround?
Anyway, here's the low-down:
MoCCA Monday, October 1st - New Voices in Comics: A Friends of Lulu Panel
There are more girls and women reading, writing, drawing, and enjoying comics today than ever before. Comics creators Hilary Florido, Miss Lasko-Gross, Yali Lin, and Danica Novgorodoff discuss their backgrounds, starting out in the comics industry, and how the graphic novel revolution the publishing industry has undergone affected their work and their opportunities. Moderated by Laurel Maury of Publisher's Weekly.
Starts at 6:30. I have to get there at 6:00.
Odd being asked to do something. To have people return my phone calls. I'm just a girl from Maryland, and not a terrifically successful one. I was invited to do this thing out of the blue.
Love and primary colors,
The Red Pooka!
Current music: Sunset Rubdown (because Spesner Krug is a god)
Check out Daytrotter for a taste: http://www.daytrotter.com/article/98/sunset-rubdown-feature-band-june-12
Tonight I host a panel on young women in comics. The gist is that women are set to take over comics, and will probably do a better job than men. And oddly, having women take over is taking a marginalized form and bringing it mainstream. How's that for lit-crit turnaround?
Anyway, here's the low-down:
MoCCA Monday, October 1st - New Voices in Comics: A Friends of Lulu Panel
There are more girls and women reading, writing, drawing, and enjoying comics today than ever before. Comics creators Hilary Florido, Miss Lasko-Gross, Yali Lin, and Danica Novgorodoff discuss their backgrounds, starting out in the comics industry, and how the graphic novel revolution the publishing industry has undergone affected their work and their opportunities. Moderated by Laurel Maury of Publisher's Weekly.
Starts at 6:30. I have to get there at 6:00.
Odd being asked to do something. To have people return my phone calls. I'm just a girl from Maryland, and not a terrifically successful one. I was invited to do this thing out of the blue.
Love and primary colors,
The Red Pooka!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Cool Books (and a small rant)
The Arrival
By some guy named Tan (who's fucking brilliant).
Arthur R. Levine, November
A graphic novel without words, and the most sophisticated I've seen. A refugee flees to a New York-like city. Only it's a city with strange servant-creatures and transportation systems resembling late-19th c. fantasy. He meets other immigrants, many who've fled ridiculous ideological wars.
The most pro-immigration book of the season has no words at all.
The Squandering of America
Robert Kuttner
Knopf, October
The Editor-in-Chief of American Prospect has another diatribe. He talks about how hedge funds and derivatives are probably ruining the American economy, perhaps irrevocably. Makes a good case, and unlike a lot of people who discuss free-markets, his words make sense.
Look Me In The Eye: My Life with Asperger's
John Elder Robison
Crown, September
Memoir - rather eloquent - of living with Asperger's Syndrome. Reading it, it came to me that Aspies, like ADDers, don't need manuals to understand how we work. We know how our insides work. We have to, because it's so damn hard for us to get what we need from a world not set up for our minds.
What's needed, actually, is a handbook for how normal people's minds work. Perhaps it needs to be different for each culture, who knows. Here's why:
A) Most normal people don't know how they work.
B) Because of this, normal people tend not to realize when their unconscious actions are cruel (not just to Aspies, ADDers, and other people with disabilities, but to people of other races and shapes).
C) Because most cruel actions are unconscious, confronting someone about their unconscious action either boggles their mind (it's like talking about the purple Snufalufagus, because they didn't see that, either) Orit angers them, because you've suddenly pulled them out of the flow of their life. And pulling a person out of the flow of his life to force introspection - that will make most people really mad.
Books by ADDers, Aspies, and high-functioning Autistics often touch on how normal people work - usually with a mind-boggling jolt at the illogic of NTs (neurological typicals) - and therefore are the best thing we've got to manuals for the normal mind.
You see, we're on the outside (I'm an ADDer), so we know how screwy you all are.
Love and the Americans with Disabilities Act,
The Red Pooka!
By some guy named Tan (who's fucking brilliant).
Arthur R. Levine, November
A graphic novel without words, and the most sophisticated I've seen. A refugee flees to a New York-like city. Only it's a city with strange servant-creatures and transportation systems resembling late-19th c. fantasy. He meets other immigrants, many who've fled ridiculous ideological wars.
The most pro-immigration book of the season has no words at all.
The Squandering of America
Robert Kuttner
Knopf, October
The Editor-in-Chief of American Prospect has another diatribe. He talks about how hedge funds and derivatives are probably ruining the American economy, perhaps irrevocably. Makes a good case, and unlike a lot of people who discuss free-markets, his words make sense.
Look Me In The Eye: My Life with Asperger's
John Elder Robison
Crown, September
Memoir - rather eloquent - of living with Asperger's Syndrome. Reading it, it came to me that Aspies, like ADDers, don't need manuals to understand how we work. We know how our insides work. We have to, because it's so damn hard for us to get what we need from a world not set up for our minds.
What's needed, actually, is a handbook for how normal people's minds work. Perhaps it needs to be different for each culture, who knows. Here's why:
A) Most normal people don't know how they work.
B) Because of this, normal people tend not to realize when their unconscious actions are cruel (not just to Aspies, ADDers, and other people with disabilities, but to people of other races and shapes).
C) Because most cruel actions are unconscious, confronting someone about their unconscious action either boggles their mind (it's like talking about the purple Snufalufagus, because they didn't see that, either) Orit angers them, because you've suddenly pulled them out of the flow of their life. And pulling a person out of the flow of his life to force introspection - that will make most people really mad.
Books by ADDers, Aspies, and high-functioning Autistics often touch on how normal people work - usually with a mind-boggling jolt at the illogic of NTs (neurological typicals) - and therefore are the best thing we've got to manuals for the normal mind.
You see, we're on the outside (I'm an ADDer), so we know how screwy you all are.
Love and the Americans with Disabilities Act,
The Red Pooka!
Book publicists don't get it...
Current t-shirt: punk skull with heart-eyes
Current music: Elvis Costello, "Spike." (Okay, everybody who's wondering why it's not "Blood and Chocolate," get with it. Yes, that's a punk classic, but it's not his only good album.)
Ok, a lot of publicists get it, but a significant subset don't...
Last night, I found a 3+ minute message on my cell phone from a publicist, wondering if I'd received the galley (generally the question is a pretext for asking if I plan to review it), and elaborating on what, according to her, were the extraordinary merits of the book.
My Dad is going in for major surgery on Oct. 15. My mom recently hurt her back badly. Yet they've decided that, despite health issues, they're going to renovate the house. Meanwhile, I'm playing phone tag with one of my editors (read someone who may eventually send me a check).
The last thing I need is some damned publicist clogging my cell phone in-box with messages - messages that, quite possibly, might fill up the space so that I can't hear the latest message from my Dad.
My Dad is one of the people I love most on this earth.
So I left a firm message telling her never to do this again.
I don't know of a reviewer who wants unsolicited messages from publicists on their cell phone. And actually, we aren't supposed to talk about reviews before they run. This is standard practice. Editors don't like it, and a reviewer who pisses off her editors is a reviewer who doesn't get a paycheck.
And I resent anyone who gets between me and my paycheck. (Wouldn't you?) Therefore, I get kinda mad when publicists call, asking if I'm going to review something.
Furthermore, reviewers aren't really supposed to have much contact with the people putting out the book. When we're pitching reviews on our own, we have to, but we're supposed to limit it. This barrier is to avoid conflict-of-interest issues, and as such, is a deeply sensible wall.
Good walls make good neighbors.
Love and stones,
The Red Pooka!
Current music: Elvis Costello, "Spike." (Okay, everybody who's wondering why it's not "Blood and Chocolate," get with it. Yes, that's a punk classic, but it's not his only good album.)
Ok, a lot of publicists get it, but a significant subset don't...
Last night, I found a 3+ minute message on my cell phone from a publicist, wondering if I'd received the galley (generally the question is a pretext for asking if I plan to review it), and elaborating on what, according to her, were the extraordinary merits of the book.
My Dad is going in for major surgery on Oct. 15. My mom recently hurt her back badly. Yet they've decided that, despite health issues, they're going to renovate the house. Meanwhile, I'm playing phone tag with one of my editors (read someone who may eventually send me a check).
The last thing I need is some damned publicist clogging my cell phone in-box with messages - messages that, quite possibly, might fill up the space so that I can't hear the latest message from my Dad.
My Dad is one of the people I love most on this earth.
So I left a firm message telling her never to do this again.
I don't know of a reviewer who wants unsolicited messages from publicists on their cell phone. And actually, we aren't supposed to talk about reviews before they run. This is standard practice. Editors don't like it, and a reviewer who pisses off her editors is a reviewer who doesn't get a paycheck.
And I resent anyone who gets between me and my paycheck. (Wouldn't you?) Therefore, I get kinda mad when publicists call, asking if I'm going to review something.
Furthermore, reviewers aren't really supposed to have much contact with the people putting out the book. When we're pitching reviews on our own, we have to, but we're supposed to limit it. This barrier is to avoid conflict-of-interest issues, and as such, is a deeply sensible wall.
Good walls make good neighbors.
Love and stones,
The Red Pooka!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Life's been strange
Current t-shirt: Happy Sushi Family.
Current music: Joan Osborne, "Crazy Baby" (concert version). Ok, it's really '90s, but then so am I.
Some things that only happen to me:
I sit in a hot plate of soup and burn my ass.
I had my husband take pictures of my poor burned butt to send to my sister (she's a doctor, and we were deciding whether or not I should go to the emergency room - we decided not to).
While I was interviewing a chinese herbalist and he was getting to the part about using wingless cockroaches on ankle injuries, I look over, and my husband, who's working as my photographer, has the pictures of my burned ass up on the digital camera - frantically scrolling to get to the end or something. (David's technologically disinclined.)
Almost get to interview Bill Clinton, but then don't get the interview, possibly because that particular boss is a crook, and certainly because the Clinton people are difficult, to say the least.
Learned campsongs about Wehrner Von Braun and dropping nuclear bombs as a child.
All true. All me. Latest is that I was hanging out with this theater group called Vampire Cowboys, and went out later with the entourage of one of their actresses, Melissa Roth. (She's a good actress.) Turns out ths group won some contest on MySpace and are now shooting a feature film produced by Spike Lee. The director, Mitch Gettleman, and two other actors, Joe Pacillo and Keenan Moynahan where also there. Keenan feels like someone who might be going places.
Love and extended warranties,
The Red Pooka!
Current music: Joan Osborne, "Crazy Baby" (concert version). Ok, it's really '90s, but then so am I.
Some things that only happen to me:
I sit in a hot plate of soup and burn my ass.
I had my husband take pictures of my poor burned butt to send to my sister (she's a doctor, and we were deciding whether or not I should go to the emergency room - we decided not to).
While I was interviewing a chinese herbalist and he was getting to the part about using wingless cockroaches on ankle injuries, I look over, and my husband, who's working as my photographer, has the pictures of my burned ass up on the digital camera - frantically scrolling to get to the end or something. (David's technologically disinclined.)
Almost get to interview Bill Clinton, but then don't get the interview, possibly because that particular boss is a crook, and certainly because the Clinton people are difficult, to say the least.
Learned campsongs about Wehrner Von Braun and dropping nuclear bombs as a child.
All true. All me. Latest is that I was hanging out with this theater group called Vampire Cowboys, and went out later with the entourage of one of their actresses, Melissa Roth. (She's a good actress.) Turns out ths group won some contest on MySpace and are now shooting a feature film produced by Spike Lee. The director, Mitch Gettleman, and two other actors, Joe Pacillo and Keenan Moynahan where also there. Keenan feels like someone who might be going places.
Love and extended warranties,
The Red Pooka!
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