Posts That Would Have Gone on Our Tumblr Site Instead If It Had Existed at The Time

Literary Psychographic

December 27, 2010

Earlier this month, the New Yorker published a column called “A Year’s Reading: Reviewers favorites from 2010.” Fifty-one new books were cited; for each, the magazine presented a title, author, publisher and list price, followed by a single line to describe the work.

It struck me that by stripping away identifying details, the editors’ blunt summaries offer a kind of window on our collective attention. What kinds of narratives mattered to us in 2010? What earned our brains’ regard? (And for the truly lit-obsessed among you: How many books can you identify from these brief blurbs? Check your answers here.)

Conspicuously absent from the record: vampires, zombies, and endangered Cerulean Warblers.

NONFICTION

Soviet Jewry’s underground support networks.
Three needless wars and American grandiosity.
On the creator of Time and Life.
The dazzling success of a mid-century art dealer.
Reconstituting the journey.
An argument for smart aquaculture.
How medieval Europe became the modern West.
A quirky hunt for the real detective.
A historical approach to intellectual property.
The subtle shadings of a complicated history.
The Second World War spy caper.
How two decades of haplessness led to the financial crisis.
The history of cancer.
A journalist’s account of the Kashmiri war.
How the man of feeling became the god of finance.
A slurry romp.
The world of the arts in Nazi-occupied Paris.
New revelations about the dancer.
The siren queen, artfully examined.
F.D.R.’s court-packing scheme.
The source of the first undying cell line.
Writings from an adventurous mind and an eventful life.
Antihumanist, polymath, and autodidact.
The heroic exodus from the South.
Finding patterns in the fates of information empires.

FICTION AND POETRY

One year’s turmoil for five appealingly aimless Montanans.
A comic historical picaresque.
On the contours of absence.
A fictionalized memoir.
An art dealer and a precocious ex-addict.
A cynical novel of insider trading.
A horror story redeemed by radiant prose.
A man derailed by a perambulatory illness.
An intricate homage to two nineteenth-century poets.
Romantic entanglements during the dot-com boom.
A hike in the Galilee carries two characters into the past.
Slyly witty stories in a posthumous collection.
A lucid new translation.
A Jamaican’s enslavement.
Satirizing America after the meltdown.
A formidable historical novel.
The consequences of grief.
Irish boarding-school life, told with grinning morbidity.
A capacious Holocaust love story.
A taut retelling of “The Ambassadors.”
The novel as Möbius strip.
The 1944 polio outbreak is the backdrop for a tragic fall.
Economical, melancholy poems.
A novel of manners about modern motherhood.
A woman constrained by marriage to an eccentric scientist.
Adolescent attachment in an ambitious monologue.

On a Day’s Writing

October 3, 2010

“Writing—I can only speak to writing here— always, always only starts out as shit: an infant of monstrous aspect; bawling, ugly, terrible, and it stays terrible for a long, long time (sometimes forever). Unlike cooking, for example, where largely edible, if raw, ingredients are assembled, cut, heated, and otherwise manipulated into something both digestible and palatable, writing is closer to having to reverse-engineer a meal out of rotten food…. Well into adulthood, writing has never gotten easier. It still only ever begins badly, and there are no guarantees that this is not the day when the jig is finally up….

“Funny thing about words. Regarded individually or encountered in newspapers or books (written by other people), they are as lovely and blameless as talcum-sweet babies. String them together into a sentence of your own, however, and these cooing infants become a savage gang straight out of Lord of the Flies. A sullen coven with neither conscience nor allegiance….

“The truest depiction of the writing life remains Nicholas Cage in the movie Adaptation, crippled by fear of inadequacy into near-complete inaction, opting to masturbate for the umpteenth time that day. His legs are the only thing visible on-screen, shaking, defeated, his off-camera body working its way to a sad and dribbling (anti)climax, the only thing he will produce the whole day.”

—from Half Empty

In Portland? Rakoff will read at Wordstock on Saturday, October 10th at 4:00pm.

Later that night, at 7:30pm, catch him at the Aladdin Theater on the special Wordstock edition of Live Wire! with Jonathan Lethem, Kristin Hersh, and Paul Provenza, among others.

Little Plastic Squares

July 14, 2010

“Now a half dozen doctors in Cape Town are harvesting memories from wealthy people and printing them on cartridges, and occasionally the cartridges are traded on the streets. Old-timers in nursing homes, it’s been reported, are using memory machines like drugs, feeding the same ratty, overfingered cartridges into their remote machines: wedding night, spring afternoon, bike-ride-along-the-cape. The little plastic squares smooth and shiny from the insistence of old fingers.”

—from the title story, a novella, in Anthony Doerr‘s new book, Memory Wall