This beauteously drawn and colored graphic novel is a light fictionalization of the early life of Patricia Highsmith, the life that led her to write CThis beauteously drawn and colored graphic novel is a light fictionalization of the early life of Patricia Highsmith, the life that led her to write Carol (aka The Price of Salt). In an introduction, the author—a fan of Highsmith—is blunt about Highsmith’s misogyny, antisemitism, and general antisocial qualities, stating plainly that Highsmith was not a good person. Yet the comic itself is much kinder to her, making clear the deep shame Highsmith lived with and how it warped most aspects of her life.
Which makes this book sound like a bummer, but it’s actually great! It’s one of those perfect meldings of subject matter and visual style that can make graphic novels such a joy to read, and for all her many faults, the Highsmith of this book is exhilarating company in the way only a true iconoclast can be....more
The rules were clear, and the expectations sky-high: Women should be virgins, but not prudes. Women should go to college, pursue a certain type of carThe rules were clear, and the expectations sky-high: Women should be virgins, but not prudes. Women should go to college, pursue a certain type of career, and then give it up to get married. And above all, living with these contradictions should not make them confused, angry, or worse, depressed. They should not take a bottle of pills and try to forget.
When I woke up on New Year's Day 2021, checked my email, and learned I had won an ARC of The Barbizon in a Goodreads giveaway, I literally clapped my hands with glee. For years I'd been fascinated by Mademoiselle magazine's college guest editor program, which had welcomed such soon-to-be-luminaries as Sylvia Plath and Joan Didion and put them all up at the Barbizon for the summer. I figured any history of the hotel would also be a history of the Mademoiselle program, and I was right.
Built in 1927, the Barbizon was a single-room-occupancy long-term hotel for women, abundant with amenities and restricting men to the lobby. Many women who came to New York City to make their fortunes found it a comforting nest from which to launch their lives. Any history of the Barbizon, then, is a history of single women and, more significantly, a history of working women. The book takes us from the relatively progressive flapper era through the Great Depression, when many states made it illegal for married women to work, and on to the war era when women filled positions men vacated for the battlefield. This, of course, was followed by the 1950s, when women were encouraged to find their fulfillment solely as mothers and wives, eventually inspiring a book (The Feminine Mystique) about how well that worked out.
Through it all, the Barbizon was there, housing models, actresses, and secretaries: the Katharine Gibbs secretarial school reserved several floors for its students, and Bren recounts the history of the school and the women who enrolled there. She then moves on to the Mademoiselle program, which understandably takes up a large portion of the book. If you're a fan of Sylvia Plath or Joan Didion, these sections may well be catnip for you, as they were for me. There's something fascinating about very young writers at the very start of their careers, and Bren did an impressive amount of research, hunting down their fellow guest editors and providing lots of firsthand perspectives. Plath in particular casts a very long shadow, and the portrait of her here is more rounded, in fewer pages, than the one in Pain, Parties, Work, which covers the same time period.
As Bren herself acknowledges, the Barbizon housed a certain type of woman: reasonably well-off, and almost always white. There are so many stories that can be told about women and work in twentieth-century America, and The Barbizon is only one of them. Still, it's a first: as Bren relates, other writers have attempted to write histories of the Barbizon and given up in frustration. Bren herself nearly gave up, but persevered, pulling and prying material from many different sources. The end result is meant for a general audience; if you're expecting deep historical analysis, you may be disappointed. But I wasn't. The Barbizon is right in my wheelhouse, and I found it illuminating and hard to put down. It's 5 stars from me....more
I'd been spending my professional life, at GQ and Esquire both, reading fiction by men about men.... There sure were a lot of trains. Why were there sI'd been spending my professional life, at GQ and Esquire both, reading fiction by men about men.... There sure were a lot of trains. Why were there so many prostitutes? And why were so many of the women dead?... Oh, if I had a dime for each time I read the sentence "She made me feel alive ..." (to which my private stock response was always "And you made her feel dead"). (p. 152)
***
"I'm sorry I'm being so outspoken and bad-tempered," [David Foster Wallace] said. "I seem to have no filter when I talk to you. It's weird."
"Not a problem," I said. (p. 166)
***
There's more than one way to look at In the Land of Men. For me, the most obvious way to look at it is as a source of literary and publishing gossip. Adrienne Miller worked as the fiction editor of Esquire from 1997 to 2006, and the stories she has to tell about writers, editors, and publishing are the kind of thing I want to be reading all the time. If every person who worked in publishing before the internet took over wrote a memoir about their experiences, I would read them all. I just can't get enough, and the whole time I was reading this book it was all I wanted to do.
***
Of course, there's more to it than that. Miller became the fiction editor of Esquire at age twenty-five. It was a lot of power for a young woman and she had a good mentor, but it was a men's magazine and circumstances were not always ideal. The 1990s were an interesting time in that it seemed that a lot of progress had been made toward gender equality, and for a lot of men who considered themselves progressive and liberal and nonsexist, that seemed to translate into... freedom to be sexist. They seemed to feel that since they believed they were progressive and not sexist, by definition nothing they said or did could be considered sexist, even if it was actually sexist. And since we were all equal anyway, what did it matter? Certainly this book is full of examples like that; Miller experienced some truly outrageous behavior on the part of the men around her, and the recounting of it here is both the background and the foreground of In the Land of Men.
***
In the Land of Men is also the story of Miller's romantic (albeit mostly long-distance) relationship with David Foster Wallace. Miller becomes Wallace's editor for a story at Esquire, and he pretty much immediately moves in on her; it's uncomfortable for the reader, who senses that if Wallace had had more twentysomething tall blonde female editors, he'd have done exactly the same thing to all of them. The relationship ultimately doesn't work and Wallace comes off badly; he's possessive and jealous even after he moves in with another woman (!), and he implies Miller, and women in general, are just not that smart in comparison to men. But Miller continues to have a relationship with him, in one way or another, for years; she clearly saw something in him. This part of the book is like having a long, one-sided conversation with a friend in a bad relationship; she recounts his misdeeds and overanalyzes his behavior, but always maintains that he has a good side that makes the whole thing worthwhile. Sometime you believe her and sometimes you don't.
***
Miller makes a point of noting that, during her tenure as Esquire's fiction editor, she hired as many women as she could, albeit in mostly low-level positions. She also mentions in passing that she edited several female writers in addition to all the men (Jeanette Winterson is one I recall). Yet so little ink is spilled on these relationships or experiences. In the Land of Men is in part a book about the sexism of the 1990s publishing industry, but it is also preoccupied with only one writer: the white, male David Foster Wallace. It's hard not to feel this book perpetuates some of the very same sexism it's calling out. "This is my story," not Wallace's, Miller often reminds both herself and the reader, and sometimes it's a reminder that we need. For a reader like me, In the Land of Men has much to recommend it, but like Miller and Wallace's relationship... it's complicated.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway. Thank you to the publisher....more
Move over, Bad Blood—I've got a new favorite nonfiction read for 2019. The important story Catch and Kill tells—of Harvey Weinstein's horrifying bMove over, Bad Blood—I've got a new favorite nonfiction read for 2019. The important story Catch and Kill tells—of Harvey Weinstein's horrifying behavior and its decades-long cover-up—is disturbing in the extreme. Fortunately, it's also compellingly written by Ronan Farrow, who even manages to scrounge up a few moments of humor from his own experiences of being threatened and spied on in the course of his work. Exhaustively detailed and impressively current, Catch and Kill is one of those books everyone should read. Odds are it'll be on every single year-end best-of list come December; might as well get on it now....more
It's always a pleasure to read a new memoir from an author whose memoirs you've enjoyed in the past—it's like catching up with an old friend. I particIt's always a pleasure to read a new memoir from an author whose memoirs you've enjoyed in the past—it's like catching up with an old friend. I particularly enjoyed Save Me the Plums because, in addition to the usual draws of a Reichl memoir (the writing and the recipes), this one was about her time as editor of Gourmet magazine. I love any kind of publishing story, really, and in this case it was so fascinating to go behind the scenes of a glamorous magazine, as many Conde Nast publications were at the time. Ruth Reichl was the perfect tour guide, because the entire magazine scene was completely new to her when she started, so she explained all the things a reader might most want to know.
Most memoirs are about the author's personal life; what's so unique about Save Me the Plums is that it's about work. It was fascinating to read about how Reichl managed the editorial transition, how she handled each of her powerful bosses, how she hired people to carry out her vision, how she convinced the powers that be to let her take chances. I loved hearing the story behind the publication of David Foster Wallace's now-famous essay "Consider the Lobster," for instance, and about the bets she placed with her bosses about which covers would succeed or fail on the newsstand. It occurs to me that this memoir, like Garlic and Sapphires, depends a lot on your interest in the profession Reichl is focusing on. Sapphires was my least favorite of hers because I don't care that much about restaurant reviewing; if you don't care much about magazine editing, be warned: there's a lot of it in here.
Of course, it's no spoiler to say this memoir ends with Gourmet being shut down and merged with Bon Appetit, and the chapters leading up to this, as Reichl takes on more and more in an attempt to save it, are some of the most honest, and also the saddest, in the book. Save Me the Plums is really an elegy for a time that's slipping away: When there were fabulous magazines full of quality material put together by smart people who really cared about doing something good. For some reason as a culture we've decided we don't want that anymore. But I was happy to have a chance to celebrate that era, and I couldn't have asked for a better companion than Ruth Reichl. Magazine publishing's loss is book publishing's gain; regardless of what Reichl decides to do next, I'll be more than happy to read her next book about whatever it is.
I won this ARC via Shelf Awareness. Thank you to the publisher!...more
As a copy editor myself and a big fan of Benjamin Dreyer's Twitter presence, I was dying to get my hands on this book, and it did not disappoint. Not As a copy editor myself and a big fan of Benjamin Dreyer's Twitter presence, I was dying to get my hands on this book, and it did not disappoint. Not only is this book funny and fun to read, it's so, so helpful for anyone seeking to improve their writing or editing skills. I've been in this business for nearly 25 years and didn't think I'd actually learn anything new from Dreyer's English, but I was astonished to realize there were a few things I'd been doing wrong all this time. Maybe that doesn't sound too astonishing to you, but... I'm pretty good what at what I do. :) If Benjamin Dreyer can teach me a few things, it's safe to say we can all learn something from him, and he presents it all in a sensible, lucid, friendly, rarely dogmatic way.
I thought about deducting a star because I disagreed with Dreyer on a few things, and also because reading a book on language usage all the way through, as you'd read a novel, is bound to result in a few less-than-riveting moments. But ultimately I decided neither of those criticisms was particularly fair. An English-language reference book that's both enjoyable and legitimately helpful is a rare thing indeed. Let's all read it and reap the benefits of our improved ability to understand and communicate with one another....more
A Life of My Own is well-written and mostly interesting and definitely delivers what it promises. If you read the publisher's description and think itA Life of My Own is well-written and mostly interesting and definitely delivers what it promises. If you read the publisher's description and think it sounds like something you'd like, you'll probably like it....more
I seem to be in one of those phases where I write detailed reviews of books I didn't like and neglect all the ones I loved. I will remedy that soon, bI seem to be in one of those phases where I write detailed reviews of books I didn't like and neglect all the ones I loved. I will remedy that soon, but for now I'm going to be the angel of death again. In my defense, I won this in a Goodreads giveaway so I feel it's incumbent upon me to share my thoughts, even though in this case the publisher would probably rather I didn't.
The story of how Leave Me Alone with the Recipes came into being is an interesting one that I won't spoil entirely, but suffice to say it involved the serendipitous discovery of a hand-drawn cookbook written in 1945 by a well-regarded and trailblazing graphic designer named Cipé Pineles, one of the few women to have had success in that field in her day (the 1930s and '40s). It's a cool story and I can see why there was desire to turn it into a traditionally published book.
The problem? Well, there are a few, but a big one is that the original hand-drawn cookbook was quite short—25 complete recipes with a few unfinished ones at the back. So this traditionally published version has been padded out. Padded out a lot. As in, it has nine separate introductions, and some of them are a bit ridiculous. There's the first one, where the editors of this volume talk about "discovering" Pineles. This is a bit self-aggrandizing on their part given that a biography of Pineles was published 18 years ago, so clearly she wasn't totally unknown. But like I said, cool story.
There's another introduction that talks about how Pineles was the first woman to really "brand" herself and therefore set the stage for people like Martha Stewart and Heidi Klum (?). Who cares? Will the people who pick up this book looking for recipes and food illustrations care about "branding"? (Well, apparently the NYU School of Visual Arts now offers a "Masters in Branding," so maybe so.)
Then there's an introduction by Mimi Sheraton, a woman with a similar background to Pineles as well as similar interests in food and illustration. Although Sheraton was about 20 years younger than Pineles, the two women worked together for a while, and I guess the editors of this volume felt she was an obvious person to tap for an intro. Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for my entertainment, Sheraton throws a massive amount of shade at Pineles, talking about how difficult she was to work with, how she would "sulk" and have to be treated "tenderly." She also makes fun of Pineles's poor spelling skills, which was mean because English was Pineles's second or third language. I have no idea why this introduction wasn't cut from the volume, but it was an interesting change of pace that I personally was grateful for.
Then there's the illustrated introduction by Maira Kalman, who was apparently invited to contribute because her style is similar to Pineles's. Unfortunately Kalman (whose work I love) clearly knew nothing about Pineles before being asked to do this, and it shows in her painfully vague contribution.
There's an introduction from Wendy MacNaughton that claims illustrated cookbooks are superior to cookbooks that use photography. This is false, but I can see why MacNaughton, an illustrator herself, would want to advance this viewpoint.
There's the introduction that talks about Pineles's stint working for the extremely short-lived magazine Food & Drink. Sarah Rich, who wrote this section, makes much of the fact that it was a food magazine directed mainly at men. Her tone distinctly implies that this made the magazine much cooler and more interesting than the food magazines directed at women, which is troubling. Women did most of the cooking back then (as they probably still do now), and holding up Food & Drink magazine as groundbreaking and superior seems to reinforce the whole "women are cooks, men are chefs" idea that still pervades fancy cooking. But it seems like the magazine died a very quick death, so, who cares.
As for the rest of the introductions (are you weary of hearing about the introductions? Imagine how weary I was of reading them!), they all recount the story of Pineles's career success, which made them quite repetitive. Pineles started off working as an art teacher but eventually became an influential graphic designer for Vogue, Vanity Fair, Glamour, Seventeen, and a magazine for young working women called Charm, which sounded fascinating. But don't expect to see examples of any of this work in this book, because you won't at all. Thus, by the time the intros are over and the illustrated recipe section (finally!) rolls around, you will be super stoked to experience this woman's superlative genius for yourself.
Then, eh. I mean, yes, the illustrations are very nice, and, as is pointed out several times in the introductions, they really are reminiscent of a lot of artists working today, including Wendy MacNaughton and Maira Kalman, which is undoubtedly why Pineles's work resonated with them. But the fact that the style is now so familiar made the actual work seem less remarkable. I tried my hardest to recognize these illustrations as groundbreaking and be amazed by them, but I couldn't quite manage it. They were nice. That's about all I feel moved to say.
The recipes themselves are unusable. They are actually Pineles's mother's recipes and have that feel of someone handing a dish down to you by showing you how to make it, improvisations, instinct and all. This might work if you're watching a dish being demonstrated, but it doesn't work at all if you write it down. I read the first recipe, for chicken soup, and was completely bewildered, and it didn't improve much from there. The editors of this volume seem to realize this, because they padded the book out even further with updated versions of all of the recipes, some of which stray far enough from the originals that you wonder what the point is. In any case, these are all old-fashioned dishes, including many for unremarkable vegetable soups and stuff hardly anyone eats anymore, like veal or meat loaf (if you still eat meat loaf, my sympathies). So you're not going to get any new meal ideas here either.
I think this book needed to be much more fleshed out, with fewer introductions but a significantly longer biography of Pineles and many more samples of her work, and then the illustrated cookbook could have been just one item among a trove of artwork and information about a pioneering graphic designer. Centering everything around a skimpy set of recipes, unfortunately, just doesn't work. I received a black-and-white cheaply made ARC of this book; I'm sure the final hardcover, full-color version will be beautiful. Thus, if you're someone who likes books that are beautiful but otherwise not of much use, you'll like this. If you have a strong interest in cooking, illustration, or graphic design, you will probably find Leave Me Alone with the Recipes as frustrating as I did....more
I'm not an academic and I don't remember how I heard about this book, but as someone who's always trying to write but rarely seems to find the time anI'm not an academic and I don't remember how I heard about this book, but as someone who's always trying to write but rarely seems to find the time and energy, I figured anyone who could help academics (who are clearly always stretched thin and crazy busy) could help me.
And I was right! This book is packed with helpful and exceedingly practical advice on how to secure the time, space, and energy for writing. I'm not going to give any of it away here (read the book, it's short), but if you follow her tips I fail to see how you couldn't become productive no matter your life circumstances. I'm excited to try this stuff out.
Of course, if you're not an academic, there are elements of this book that won't apply to you. But this is balanced out by the fact that there are NO stupid writing prompts or exercises here, as there often are in writing books. Jensen assumes her readers already know what they want to write about and want to get to it, not waste time on prompts they have no interest in. I appreciated that so much. Definitely recommend this for anyone who wants to write....more
In Poetry Will Save Your Life, Jill Bialosky—a poet, novelist, memoirist, and editor for W.W. Norton—charts her life via the poems that have meant a lIn Poetry Will Save Your Life, Jill Bialosky—a poet, novelist, memoirist, and editor for W.W. Norton—charts her life via the poems that have meant a lot to her. Each short chapter deals with a certain aspect of Bialosky's life (falling in love for the first time; her parents' divorce; her own experiences with motherhood, her working life, etc.) and includes poems that remind her of that particular time, or that helped her through that particular time. The goal seems to be to show how vital poetry is, how it's not some rarefied ivory-tower genre but something that we can relate to in our day-to-day lives. As a lover of poetry, I'm totally on board with this idea. I just wish it had been better executed here.
The memoir element was hit or miss for me. The sections dealing with Bialosky's childhood are simplistic and rather shallow; it isn't until she moves into the events of her adulthood that the book gains some depth and really begins to work. The chapter on 9/11, for example, and the one on her experiences with motherhood, were extremely moving and made me wish she'd gone back and applied that same level of skill and insight to the earlier chapters. Of course, the poems she chose to feature also made a difference; if you can read "Try to Praise the Mutilated World"without being moved, I'm not sure I want to know you.
Nonetheless, the poetry element was also probably the weakest part of the book. Bialosky presents each of the poems she's chosen and then explicates it, but the explication is so basic it's almost insulting to the reader. She explains things that are obvious, quotes back lines that we literally just read without adding any further insight to them, and never delves any deeper, even for poems that clearly have a lot of layers. It got so I'd read a beautiful poem and immediately dread the facile interpretation that I knew was going to follow. Bialosky also sometimes does a bafflingly poor job of connecting the poems to her actual life, which is odd because... that was kind of the whole point of the book.
I'm not entirely sure who this book is for. In a perfect world, this would be a great book to give to anyone who is curious about poetry but intimidated by it, but in reality the book seems too simplistic for a lot of adults to embrace wholeheartedly. I think it would be good for high school students—for them, this wholly unintimidating look at poetry might be just what they need to make them poetry lovers for life. Sadly, I can't really recommend it for anyone else....more
I was a devoted reader of Sassy magazine and have followed Jane Pratt's career ever since, but for whatever reason I didn't hear about her website, xoI was a devoted reader of Sassy magazine and have followed Jane Pratt's career ever since, but for whatever reason I didn't hear about her website, xoJane, until it had already been around for a while. In fact, I discovered it just after Cat Marnell, its beauty editor, was let go for problems related to her unrepentant drug use. It was hard to catch up on exactly what had happened after the fact, so I was very curious to read the whole story as recounted by Cat herself in How to Murder Your Life.
But that didn't mean I expected to like it.
When they're actively using, addicts can be some of the most self-absorbed and irresponsible people around, and as such, writing about their addictions can be tricky. How do you describe your own terrible behavior without making the reader toss the book aside in annoyance? Plenty of addicts take the somber route in their memoirs, infusing every page with their regret and shame. Cat Marnell doesn't really do that. I mean, sure, by the time it's over she has plenty of regrets, but she also effectively captures the fact that, when you're just getting started, drug use can seem awesome: The moment when you first try a substance it seems you've been waiting for your whole life. The euphoria that makes you feel that you can do anything. The moments at parties and events when, inhibitions out the window, you can bond with other people and feel like you're really living an interesting life. Cat convincingly portrays all of this, in a conversational, exclamation point–laden style, sometimes addressing the reader directly ("I just love teen smokers, don't you?"). I can see how some readers might find this grating, but I generally found it quite charming, and most definitely entertaining.
Just as important, effectively portraying the highs of drug addiction makes it even more harrowing when the good times finally end and Cat's life becomes the sort of horror show you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. While it's hard to say that I sympathized with her—it can be hard to sympathize with someone who makes so many stupid choices—I was definitely with her, let's put it that way. In fact, I had kind of an exasperating week at work, and yesterday, while sitting in a chair at my hair salon, my mind wandered to my various annoyances and problems—but I quickly realized I wasn't actually thinking of my own problems. I was thinking of Cat's. How often does that happen with any book?
Because Cat wrote for the internet and, before that, seemed to write mainly short beauty blurbs for Lucky magazine, I was expecting the sort of messy, casual, meandering, unstructured memoir we typically see from bloggers and other online types. I was shocked, but impressed, to find that this memoir didn't suffer from any of those usual flaws. Despite its exceedingly conversational tone, this book was quite focused. It proceeded through the years in an orderly fashion, with chapters in the book devoted to various chapters of Cat's life. This doesn't sound like such fantastic praise, but honestly, I was very impressed by how well done the book was. Given that Cat's life has been such a trainwreck, the fact that this book is not is quite an achievement.
Cat was not happy at xoJane. At one point, she complained that the site contained nothing but "internet garbage." While it's easy to say that Cat had made such a hash of her career by then that she should've been grateful for any opportunity to work as a writer/editor, that didn't change the fact that she was right: xoJane was internet garbage. Cat loved working in print magazines because of their creativity, flair, edgy glamour, and forward-thinking attempts to influence style and culture. She wasn't interested in the sort of dumbed-down clickbait you find so often on the web. These standards are entirely evident in How to Murder Your Life: Rather than going for quick, easy money, she slaved over the book for years while simultaneously getting out of the drug-induced hole she'd put herself in. At one point, concerned with how long the process was taking, Cat's publisher sent over a ghostwriter, but she sent him back and kept working. The result is a singular reading experience, better than it had any right to be, given the circumstances.
It's safe to say Cat Marnell has done many, many things she's not proud of, and at this point it's not at all clear whether she's ultimately going to be OK. But How to Murder Your Life shows that her considerable talents have so far survived her self-destructive tendencies, and I hope at least she can feel proud of that.
I won this book in a giveaway here on Goodreads. My thanks to the publisher....more
I received Cover to Cover in the mail last Thursday, and that evening I decided to look it over while watching an episode of The Simpsons. Usually wheI received Cover to Cover in the mail last Thursday, and that evening I decided to look it over while watching an episode of The Simpsons. Usually when I attempt this, The Simpsons wins out and the book gets neglected. Not so in this case—I immediately became absorbed in Cover to Cover and couldn’t wait until I had a little more time to give it the full attention it deserved. That moment arrived over the weekend, when I inhaled the whole thing in basically a day.
This beautifully put-together book showcases several different Penguin Classics series as well as many individual books. The covers are displayed, as well as preliminary sketches, rejected covers, and images that served as inspiration. These are accompanied by accounts of the covers’ creation by the illustrators, designers, and other relevant parties. Surprisingly, not all of these accounts were entirely positive—a few illustrators and designers had a tough time with their particular project and were not afraid to say so—but this just showed how passionate and committed to excellence both the Penguin Classics team and the illustrators are. As someone who doesn’t see herself as particularly visually oriented, I found learning about the creative process of designing a cover to be really fascinating and instructive. I liked the approach of trying to give a modern spin to the classics via cover design; it made it clear how relevant and vital most of these books remain to this day—indeed, it’s one of the things that makes them classics.
I have to mention (I mean I literally have to; it’s the law) that I received this book as a free review copy from the publisher. However, anyone who’s at all familiar with my reviews knows that I have no problemgiving a negative reviewto a bookI got for free. In fact, reading Cover to Cover made me think about what causes me to give a book a negative review: besides just straight-up bad writing, it’s a sense of smallness: a lack of vision, a passive acceptance of the way things are, a stereotypical view of people and emotions. Ideally, I read to be inspired in one way or another, to see things in a different light. I want a sense of expansiveness, a sense that people are thinking outside the box. This book, with its beautiful images, respect and excitement for literature, and abundant creativity, accomplished that for me.
If you’re a lover of actual physical books, you will love this (warning: it will make you insanely acquisitive). If you’re an artist or designer, there will be a lot here to capture your imagination. Basically, if this topic interests you in any way, you should get on it. Cover to Cover will be everything you hoped for and more....more
This book was lent to me by a co-worker who thought that I, being a copy editor myself, would enjoy this true story of a copy editor and his friends tThis book was lent to me by a co-worker who thought that I, being a copy editor myself, would enjoy this true story of a copy editor and his friends traveling around the country correcting typos on signs. I was skeptical—honestly, I'm a fan of good grammar and spelling, but I've long accepted that typos are not going anywhere and I don't generally get worked up about them anymore. However, it seemed to me that the author was going for a Bill Bryson vibe, so I tried to be optimistic.
Unfortunately, my optimism faded quickly. At one point, more than halfway through the trip, a former professor of the author expresses surprise that he and his traveling companions haven't gotten punched in the face by anyone, and I agree. It's generally just obnoxious to go up to customer-service employees in businesses, tell them their signs are wrong, and ask to change them. A lot of the employees worried they'd get in trouble with their bosses if they allowed Deck and his friends to change their signs, which Deck extrapolates into some kind of fear of, or unquestioning obedience to, authority. He even compares it to that experiment where people give what they think are dangerous shocks to other people because a man in a white coat is standing over them! I kept thinking to myself, "No, you [expletive redacted], they're afraid of their bosses because They don't want to get fired!" I mean, hello? Hasn't this guy ever worked a customer-service job himself? Most managers are so afraid of getting fired themselves that they redirect that onto their employees and get rid of anyone who causes any sort of problem. Anyone who's worked in customer service has experienced this. The fact that Deck was so willing to obliviously harass minimum-wage workers in pursuit of his "quest" bugged the crap out of me.
Then there's the fact that, when Deck and his friends were able to change signs, they usually did a terrible job of it and made the signs look much worse than before, gobbed with Wite-Out or with extra letters squeezed in where they didn't really fit. They even (view spoiler)[changed a sign that was CLEARLY a part of the historic character of a landmark they were visiting (hide spoiler)], which infuriated me. Granted, they did (view spoiler)[get slapped with a lawsuit, which they deserved (hide spoiler)], but the whole time I got the feeling Deck and his partner in crime thought they were the wronged party somehow—which did nothing to endear them to me.
Occasionally, Deck tries to justify his whole excursion (which he clearly undertook just to get a book deal out of it) by talking about the different schools of thought on typos and misspellings—i.e., the people who think some rules are necessary versus the people who think language is constantly evolving, and the middle ground between the two. These sections were mostly boring, and his girlfriend's apparent belief that no one can ever really say what's "right" or "wrong" when it comes to language caused me much eye-rolling, although not as much eye-rolling as her use of baby talk. Authors, please do us all a favor and don't include your significant other's baby talk in your memoir. No one wants to read that. Or at the very least, in a book about typos, make sure your girlfriend's pet name for you is spelled consistently throughout.
So who should read this book? If you care a lot about the correction of typos and don't find the idea of someone going around hassling people as off-putting as I did, you may like this. Everyone else can probably find something better to read....more
What’s not to like about Spinster? Apparently quite a lot, if its Goodreads reviews are any indication. I think there’s a perception that this is suppWhat’s not to like about Spinster? Apparently quite a lot, if its Goodreads reviews are any indication. I think there’s a perception that this is supposed to be a sort of generalized book about single women as a group, and if you go into it expecting that, you’ll be disappointed (and should probably try Rebecca Traister’s excellent All the Single Ladies instead). No, Spinster is actually a very personal book, a memoir of Kate Bolick’s own experiences as a single woman and the literary role models who helped her recognize the kind of life she wanted to lead. True, none of these role models (Edna St. Vincent Millay and Charlotte Perkins Gilman among them) were spinsters by the official definition, but they shared a certain independence, a certain originality, a certain freedom, and a certain creativity that Bolick wants for herself. Bolick and I are not very much alike, but I still related to a lot of this, and I loved how bookish it was. Spinster is one of those books that opens your mind and reminds you that there are endless ways to live a life. I found it thrilling and comforting at the same time.
There seems to be some debate over whether or not Bolick herself, who always seems to have a man around in one way or another, actually qualifies as a spinster. I’ll admit that I asked this myself a few times while reading. But I think she’s actually a perfect embodiment of where we are now as a culture. These things are often complicated; we can crave both independence and love and companionship, and the way we balance out these longings can be tricky, a process of trial and error. It’s one of the most modern of predicaments a woman can find herself in, and I can’t and won’t fault Bolick for not navigating it exactly the way I’ve been. There’s a lot to be learned from those who view the same situation from a somewhat different angle. Spinster really isn’t the most radical book out there on these topics, but I cannot deny that I loved every minute of it, and I was sorry when it was over. In a readerly sense, Bolick made the perfect companion....more
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