Monday, January 17, 2005

What’s better, the book or the reviews? – part 2

I love Adam Gopnik. I admit it. I mean, I never met Adam Gopnik and I haven’t read a fraction of what he has written (oh, but I read Paris to the Moon, isn’t that enough?), but the things that have come my way have been wonderful. Please do not tell me that he is some kind of a megalomaniac or worse, a despicable human being who has some nasty habit or other, because that would burst my bubble.

When Gopnik writes, I listen. When his articles appear in the New Yorker, I read them BEFORE I get to the cartoons. If he would come on a book tour to Madison I would be one of those fawning idiots that arrives two hours early just to get a seat. [Of course, in reality he would never come to Madison; he is probably one of those east coast snots that believes Madison to be in Alabama, or at the very least Arkansas. No way would his precious New York – Paris foot step in the “dairy state.” I’m guessing now, I know nothing on this at all, just speculating..]

Okay, so why all this Gopnik adoration now? His article in this week’s New Yorker reviewed two recent books on the life of Leonardo da Vinci. It was a wonderful review (of course; I’m biased, I already admitted it). So much so that the magnetic forces, way beyond my control, drew me to Borders late, late this evening, and I picked out the text on da Vinci that sounded absolutely sublime (the one by Nicholl). I stood waiting for the cashier, thumbing through the beautiful pages, pleased and happy… Until I cracked open the other book that I was holding ( Hornby’s “The Polysyllabic Spree”). Hornby is funny. Hornby can often be downright hilarious. In this particular little volume, Hornby wrote about all the books that he had bought and never read. Camic took Hornby to heart.

I thought of a new rule: if it is likely that within the next week I will not read more than at least 100 pages, I will not buy it. I left Borders richer in cash, poorer in spirit.

Blast these reviews! They are worse than commercials for Miss Debby cupcakes.

How many ways can I tell myself, “you deserve this?”

Here it is in Polish: Nalezy ci sie!

If you’re wondering about the paucity of posts today, well let me be frank: I have been in my office putting the finishing touches on a syllabus and a lecture. Tomorrow is, of course, the beginning of the Spring Semester (sounds so refreshingly warm and balmy – Spring Semester!) and here I am, working late in anticipation of the eternal sunshine that comes with each new beginning before the mind gets spotted with the little things that always go wrong (one hopes in small ways only).

I am filled with energy. I huffed and puffed for over an hour at the gym, then I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. True, that last part (the “getting to work”) did not happen until early afternoon, what with plumbing to repair at home (yes! Hire me! I can fix toilets and drains!) and endless email (of a pleasant kind – I am hatching my escapes for the months ahead), but all is done now, the syllabus is typed and duplicated and I can soon go home.

What’s better, the book or the reviews?

“Blink,” the book I fleetingly mentioned in a post yesterday, is becoming the talk of the week. I myself have not read it and truthfully, I lost interest in it quickly after listening to the interview with Gladwell earlier last week (I know, that is so totally not fair, but there you have it – every time I would have picked up the book I would have had to recall his lackluster responses and the content would slide into the background, overshadowed by the images of a noodle-like persona*).

But I have enjoyed enormously the critical reviews of "Blink," the latest at TNR, by Judge Posner (thanks Althouse), and also a brief comment at JFW (added to yesterday's "thin-slicing " of it by Brooks in the Times and last week's "letter" in Slate found here).

I love controversy about authors (a mean streak is hereby acknowledged?) and after a while, I forget that I myself have no opinion (having not read the book under fire) – I get so wildly caught up in the argument. Sometimes I get so engaged in the back-and-forth that I am ready to sit down and write my own review – all on the basis of the observations of others.

One more critical piece on “Blink” and I think I can begin my own sharp retort. I have the outline in my head already.


* An image that was not with me when I read Galdwell's The Tipping Point some years back -- a book not unlike this one: a half dozen social sciences with a peppering of the natural sciences, all in one short, but fun romp.

Golden memories

So instead of doing something useful and productive tonight, I watched the Golden Globes. I am a sucker for movie awards even if I don’t really follow Hollywood stuff. It’s such a circus!

Highlight for me? Well, you could say Mick Jagger’s award. I had once posted here (don't ask me to find it, it was long ago and I am tired) that I had seen him on stage live, in Poland in 1969 and I had thrown out an invitation (scribbled on a piece of paper and tossed onto the stage) for, um, a private conversation. He never picked up on it, but I feel we have a special history.

Plus, in 1965, I made my first radio appearance – I dialed WABC radio (in NY) and my call was (randomly) the lucky one: I was asked on the air to dedicate a hit song to someone. I said in my high pitched 12-year old voice: "I dedicate “19th Nervous Breakdown” to my best friend, Radhika C.” Radhika is my link to Sri Lanka now. I blogged about her here.