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(10/16/12 4:18am)
If last weekend’s flitting chill and George R. R. Martin have been telling us anything, it’s this: Winter is coming. Winter is coming hard.
(10/10/12 1:56am)
I will say right now that I am a better literature student than I am an English student. I lacquer up the cracks in my spare time with books, and if I’m not reading, I’m merely taking a break from reading. In my dorm, I’ve got a shelf full of books brought from home, a shelf of library books above my desk and a host of books waiting for me at Steenbock Library.
(10/03/12 4:56am)
Precedent can be unkind to the young. Art, history, generations—these can be unseemly hanger-ons. And they are, to the extent that we buy into their more depraved aspects.
(10/02/12 4:20am)
The first month of classes has swept away September; whether you felt it as a lofty breeze or tumultuous gyre, I’m sure you’ve got a vague idea of what school will be like for the rest of the semester.
(09/27/12 3:59am)
There are some who would say a particular atrophy attends modern rock n’ roll. It seems the genre is being saved at every turn (remember The Strokes? White Stripes?) from the pratfalls of progress, past and present, (commercial viability, disco, modern rock radio, the ineffable flux of time, etc.) and, in its ripeness, wastes away again. Of course, the argument’s bull, but for those non-avant garde fans in the audience, there’s always the tendency to look back.
(09/26/12 3:47am)
In memoriam twixt the huxtable on all our allegorical allaying of the spiritual woes hmm i’d fancy a dish of kippers oh where does the time go wrote edgar allan poe should I use that for the column no no into the trash bin that one would’ve should’ve used the word parsimonious parsnips are a root vegetable synonymous to the condition of a deacon lain up with heads in his belfry all wobbly and fluoride assayers tweaking into the dark and stormy night yabba dubai doo…
(09/19/12 2:41am)
What was the last book you didn’t finish? Come now: you’re not all perfect little literature angels heralding the merits of the written word. Was it a class reading? Was it a book for recreation? Did one of you little fools try and read “Finnegans Wake” on a dare? On a related note, did you survive and/or avoid hospitalization?
(09/12/12 4:36am)
If you walk into a bookstore, a few things should be readily apparent to you. Firstly, you will see the obligatory table set up with the latest hardcover and bestsellers, foisted right at wallet level. Then you will notice rows and rows of general fiction, and that should be the largest section in the store besides all the cheap mysteries, romances and nonfiction. A good litmus test: if you walk into a bookstore that doesn’t have at least one copy of “The Great Gatsby,” you’re either in an airport or not in a bookstore.
(09/05/12 2:21am)
I had two Jameses on my mind this summer who (hopefully) bear no relation by blood and other family fluids. The first I could not escape: E.L. James, the author of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” I didn’t read the book, but I did hear a top-notch live reading by Gilbert Gottfried; it was delightful and bespoke eldritch abominations of the written language. The second I came quite voluntarily to: Henry James, the indomitable (and even to some English majors, a thoroughly frightening) prose maestro.
(08/14/12 12:11am)
I was in a unique position with regards to Pondamonium. Besides having an interest in going, I also had a job with the Madison Mallards i.e. the organization hosting the event. So, yes, Madison hipsters and grunge fans, I got paid to see Garbage and the Flaming Lips. It meant sacrificing a chance to stand on the field while Wayne Conye launched balloons and confetti into the crowd, of course, but it gave me a different perspective for this review.
(05/10/12 12:25am)
A few days ago, Maurice Sendak passed away at the age of 83. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, maybe this will: he was the author and illustrator of “Where The Wild Things Are.” So suddenly this is a big deal, right? Monumental even.
(05/04/12 4:45am)
The collegiate existentialist is a stereotype as ingrained as the frat boy and the Chaucer expert cum fast food service major. For some parents, it’s disconcerting to have Junior or Sister disappear off to college, only to see them return after a semester or two wholly changed. Some parents may be repulsed that their children are suddenly… questioning everything and reading big dour French books that reek of clove cigarettes. And we all know questioning is the latchkey to the devil’s workshop.
(04/27/12 4:41am)
I’ll just hop right into this: There is no Great American Novel, and I doubt there ever will be one. I don’t think there will ever be a book that will ever be canonically superior to any work produced before or after it. You can approximate, of course. For my intents and purposes, “The Great Gatsby” has always been my vote for the Great American Novel, if you’re going to insist upon it.
(04/20/12 4:07am)
Anyone remember high school English? It’s a safe bet that no matter where you went to school, you probably drew from a mutual stock of books. “The Great Gatsby,” “Catcher in the Rye,” “The Old Man and the Sea,” “Jane Eyre,” “Native Son,” “Beloved,” etc. Maybe you read “Animal Farm,” George Orwell’s allegory for the Russian Revolution and the rise of Josef Stalin.
(04/18/12 5:39am)
People in love often associate music with their relationships. Lots of couples have an “Our Song” set aside to play at weddings, or said couples formed their bond over a mutual respect for country radio. Maybe love for some people is an old Talking Heads song, or a piano sonata. Or maybe love is just a series of sweaty Gucci Mane makeouts. At any rate, music is powerful for people under the sway of love. And it exists in all forms. You may not know it, but a man named Yann Tiersen may have scored your entire romance without your knowledge.
(04/13/12 1:29am)
Happy Friday, and a belated welcome back to school. Did you have a good Spring Break? Maybe you don’t remember; perhaps a week of school has already wheedled out any pleasant memory you might have had away from academia. On my part, I had a fairly relaxing Spring Break. I went to Chicago to see the Cubs on opening day, but that’s neither here nor there.
(03/23/12 3:05am)
Depending on whom you ask, “Ulysses” is either the greatest work of literature, period, or the most confusing pile of what-is-this-I-don’t-even-know imaginable. There is no middle ground. It’s certainly got the credentials to go both ways.
(03/16/12 4:34am)
Self-help books abound in any genre, be it gardening, speaking or catfish farming, but they are especially prevalent in the school of writing. Books on how to write novels, how to publish that non-fiction memoir, how to make millions of dollars writing, how to outdo Proust and Eliot and the like.
(03/15/12 1:59am)
The first thing you should know about The Decemberists is that they’re a little conceited. Their conceit, a not wholly unfavorable one, is one of refinement and bookish intelligence. Lead singer Colin Meloy sings songs with big, gilded words; the band plays respectively big, gilded songs rife with accordions, violins, horns and keyboards, anchored by traditional rock instruments (guitar, bass, drum). They named an album Picaresque (2005). And though they’ve been moving away from this literary conceit, even their most recent studio album (2011’s country-ish, R.E.M.-ish The King is Dead and its little sibling, the Long Live The King EP) does not lose the conceit fully.
(03/09/12 3:42am)
I recently finished reading “Going to the Territory,” a collection of essays by Ralph Ellison. Among the topics he discussed (art, African Americans, history, jazz) one of the most important and recurring topics was the Novel. Not the lowercase novel as a thing, as a piece of entertainment, but the uppercase Novel as an idea, as a form.