Linger on, Lou Reed: Remembering a legend
It was not the news I was expecting to wake up to Sunday morning: Lou Reed dies at 71.
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It was not the news I was expecting to wake up to Sunday morning: Lou Reed dies at 71.
This weekend, I started reading “Madame Bovary” just for the hell of it. I know; it’s such a willful, loose-cannon thing for someone to do. I’m so rebellious.
Hey! You there! Guess what? There are a lot of collective nouns for animals and most of them are pretty absurd. This shit ain’t just limited to “herds” or “groups” or “bevies.” Don’t believe me? Then read on, dear reader!
Oct. 21, 1772: English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge is born.
It is to my ultimate chagrin that I never checked out Alice Munro before she won the Nobel Prize in Literature. Now my interest feels petty, or feigned; the bandwagon wobbles with my desperate hop aboard. Better late than never?
Oct. 14, 1066: The Battle of Hastings occurs, as documented on the Bayeux Tapestry.
What is the shape of a book? Rectangle, says the wisecracker, or square if it’s a coffee table tome. Maybe you’ve read a triangle shaped book once before. Who knows? But I’m not talking about book shape, per se. I’m talking about the shape of the story.
Oct. 7, 1582: Because of the institution of the Gregorian Calendar, Oct. 7 is skipped in Italy, Spain, Poland and Portugal.
Food and drink, as a device or function in literature, finds its way into a surprising number of literary works. It’s something you may not have noticed, unless it’s some important emblem, like the gruel in “Oliver Twist.”
Sept. 30th, 1207: The mystic poet Rumi is born.
A few weeks ago I had a nearly all-consuming desire to reread “1Q84” by Haruki Murakami. The reason eluded me at first. I may have attributed it to the fact that Murakami is one of my favorites, whose books always find their way into the flux of my reading rushes. I may have attributed this to the fact that I had the privilege of reviewing it when it came out in 2011 for this very publication, and thus would have enjoyed both a book and a nostalgic experience. I may have attributed it to the fact that I rather liked “1Q84” and it was due for a reread anyway.
Disclaimer: this article was written with Monday Sept. 23 in mind, but its content is universal and timeless, so read on fearless denizens of Tuesday, Sept. 24.
Last week, on a whim, I decided to start reading “The Satanic Verses” by Salman Rushdie. Though it has never been a book high on my “to read” list, I took the plunge when I chanced upon it in the library stacks.
Sept. 16, 1620: The Mayflower (yes, that Mayflower) sets sail from Plymouth, England, to make the tempestuous journey across the Atlantic to North America.
Toward the end of August, an idea dawned on me that I wish had dawned on me sooner, since it (in retrospect) seems so obviously beneficial, munificent, edifying, etc. Toward the end of August, I bought a wordbook at the bookstore.
September 9th, 1543: High upon a craig sits Stirling Castle, in Stirling, Scotland. A site of importance to Scottish monarchs, this day bodes importance not only for Scotland but (later) England and the rest of the world as well. For it was on this day that Mary Stuart—at a wee nine months old—was crowned Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary, claimant to the throne of England, shuttered out by Elizabeth I, eventual execution victim.
Travesty. Tra-ves-ty. Noun. Plural: –ties. A false, absurd, or distorted representation of something.
If it isn’t already a given, the things that happen in novels don’t happen in our lives—at least, not in the same way they do in novels.
“A River Runs Through It.” “On the Road.” “All Quiet on the Western Front.” “The Bell Jar.” “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” What do these books have in common, you might ask? Well, for one, they’re all rooted in autobiography, and their official title is roman a clefs (“novels with keys” in French).
Anybody with even a remote interest in the history of American music would do well to check out Michael Azerrad’s “Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991.” It is a loving paean to a few of the most important bands on the American scene—bands like Minor Threat, Minutemen, The Replacements, Sonic Youth, Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr—who could be said to constitute the pantheon of amerindie.