December 2005
Dear Everyone
Our fine friends at Minnesota Public Radio tipped us off to a fun contest that begins today -- it might be just the thing to work around that writer's block ... and best of all, there's a great prize for the winner. See below for the details and I hope to see a LitKicks face bring home the victory.
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It is the time of year when we send or receive those end-of-year newsletters filled with funny family news: details about successes, delicate references to life's setbacks, and sometimes dramatically honest sentences that you have to re-read to believe.
Broadway’s Color Purple
I've heard enough about this production to discern that it is aiming to be a feel-good blockbuster (indeed, the finances of the Broadway musical biz mandates that virtually every new production must spend high and aim for the family/tourist market), and as such I suspect it is not an adaptation of the Alice Walker novel, as it claims to be, but rather an adaptation of Steven Speilberg's warm-hearted but sappy movie version of the Alice Walker novel.
Beverly the Problem
Reviewing the Review: December 4 2005
This article is part of the Reviewing the New York Times Book Review series. The next post in the series is Reviewing the Review: December 11 2005. The previous post in the series is Reviewing the Review: November 27 2005.
Pride and Prejudice (or Firth Impressions)
Along with several of my librarian dork friends, I once even had a Pride and Prejudice party with tea sandwiches and a viewing of our favorite parts of the excellent 1995 television version produced by BBC and A&E. My friend Melinda and I can recite passages verbatim from the book at each other. Very sad.
I was looking forward to the new movie version, anxious to see it, but skeptical whether it could ever live up to the classic 1995 mini-series, which starred Colin Firth. It didn't, of course. Melinda and I saw the new movie together, whispering to each other and giggling. Probably having such an intimate acquaintance with the story helped us both -- we only had to see Mr. Collins to start laughing.
Donald Goines (or, Growing Up Gotti)
Quick Hits
Slam Dunk
Harold Pinter: See This Fist?

Somebody correct me if I'm wrong about this, but I've read several reactions to Harold Pinter's aggressive Nobel Prize acceptance speech, and I get the feeling I'm the only one here who actually knows Pinter's work.
Harold Pinter has spent his career studying the way human beings lie. It is his obsession, his medium. A play is called "Pinteresque" when the audience cannot trust a single character on stage. His working class Brits deceive, intimidate and overpower each other in tightly packed, oppressive rooms. They speak with great volume and speed, but they never mean anything they say -- their words are either weapons of cruelty or pathetic pleas for help.
By the time a Pinter play ends, at least one character has been completely destroyed, and at least one character has won a petty, hollow victory. The audience shuffles out of the theater feeling both excited by the naked display of power and guiltily complicit in the depraved brutality of human aggression.
Reviewing the Review: December 11 2005
This article is part of the Reviewing the New York Times Book Review series. The next post in the series is Reviewing the Review: December 18 2005. The previous post in the series is Reviewing the Review: December 4 2005.
The Mary Shelley Story

Mary Shelley was born Mary Godwin in London, England on August 30, 1797 to remarkable parents. Her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, a feminist when feminism was almost unheard of, wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Women in 1792. Her father, William Godwin, a well-known critic of the British government and the founder of modern philosophical anarchism, wrote An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice in 1793. Sadly, eleven days after Mary was born, her mother died of puerperal fever, leaving William Godwin to raise Mary and her older half-sister, Fanny.
Mary's father believed in the progressive type of education prescribed by philosophers like Rousseau, which emphasized experience over book-learning. He took Mary and Fanny on trips to different places and often invited writers, philosophers, and scientists to his house. These guests included Charles Lamb, William Wordsworth, Humphry Davy, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. One night Mary got to hear Coleridge recite his poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner to a roomful of guests. Mary was writing her own stories by the time she was ten years old.
Clean For Gene
Two New Poetry Books
Shabby Epiphanies by SJ Grady
Shabby Epiphanies takes its title from the eponymous poem that says
Among the secular priesthood
of our sexy new religion
worship must be sensual
(there's nothing else left)
Stakes is High
Let's start with Saddam Hussein in Baghdad, pounding his fist and complaining that the whole trial process is a theatrical fraud. Well, he's probably right, but then Saddam has his own penchant for theatricality. With Saddam in the hot seat and the cameras rolling, there's more bad acting flying around the Baghdad courtroom than in a Tom Hanks/Robin Williams buddy film directed by Oliver Stone. We yearn for the days of the Nuremberg trials.
More Quick Ones
Other useful literary round-ups from around the web: the Elegant Variations's 2005 Notables and Ready Steady Books' Best of the Year 2005. The litcup runneth over.
2. Revered playwright Sam Shepard will be making an unusual musical appearance with his son Walker and 60's urban folkie Peter Stampfel at the Bowery Poetry Club this Friday.
LitKicks Reviews
A Voice Above the Din by Steven Holbrook Hill
Steven Holbrook Hill's first novel A Voice Above the Din kicks off like a buddies-travelling-together story, a sort of male Thelma-and-Louise. As in many roadgoing tales, the two main characters have complementary rather than similar personalities. John is the crazed, fast-moving one, and narrator Spencer supplies the caution and introspection John lacks. Anybody who knows On The Road will recognize the setup, but Hill's book is heavier on plot and lighter on tone than Kerouac's. One of the characters is dealing with a serious disease, along with legal problems and attitude problems, and the story takes twists you won't see coming. Hill has created a blog to promote this book ... he also contributes occasional excellent articles to LitKicks as Stevadore. Check his stuff out.
Reviewing the Review: December 18 2005
I'm glad the Book Review occasionally salutes the blogosphere, but critic George Johnson takes it too far in his review of novelist David Leavitt's The Man Who Knew Too Much, a biography of the troubled but brilliant computer scientist Alan Turing. Johnson procrastinates reading the book he has been assigned to review. "Maybe I was just in the mood for fiction," he whines. What the hell? A Book Review critic isn't supposed to complain like a petulant child when forced to slog through a difficult book; that's the kind of stuff us bloggers do. What's next -- are they going to start sharing their personal problems and MP3 playlists?
This article is part of the Reviewing the New York Times Book Review series. The next post in the series is Reviewing the Review: January 8 2006. The previous post in the series is Reviewing the Review: December 11 2005.
Oedipus on the Beach
Regarding the verses: pretty good work. Regarding the story: damn ...
Have Yourself a Very WSB Christmas
Graham Seidman
Fairness at the Book Review
Do You Hear What I Hear?
American Life in Poetry: December Notes
American Life in Poetry: Column 039
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE
This article is part of the American Life In Poetry series. The next post in the series is American Life in Poetry: Geology. The previous post in the series is American Life in Poetry: In My Mother’s House.
Shortlisted for the Man Blooker
In fact, through the happy accident of alphabetism, our book is at the very top of the list, and we like the way that feels. We believe we should win this award, and in a vain attempt to drum up a huge groundswell of popular support I'd like to talk about what this book is and how it came about.
