I‘m enjoying reading this book. But I just don’t understand why publishers don’t hire fact checkers anymore. The author refers to “The Music Man’s Henry Hill.” No, it’s Harold Hill. No one could look that up on IBDB? Plus the words “The Music Man” ought to be italicized. Does nothing matter anymore?
Archive for the ‘Books’ Category
I am thoroughly enjoying reading The Big Necessity: The Unmentionable World of Human Waste and Why It Matters by Rose George. And it’s not just for reading on the toilet! Fascinating.
Since for some people every day is Halloween, it is only appropriate that this announcement comes this week. How on earth a woman who has kept all “his” female reproductive organs can refer to “himself” as a “man” is beyond comprehension. It doesn’t work on any level — biological, sociological or semantic. Look, it’s a free country, go ahead and hack away at your genitalia and have a box full of velcro sex organs for quick changes and a fridge full of hormone smoothies but you will never actually be able to change your sex (the word is “sex” not “gender”). I can walk around in a stove pipe hat and a beard but that doesn’t make me Abraham Lincoln. So sorry that daddy touched you down there and you can’t deal with being a lesbian so you need to confuse the issue and decide you’re a man trapped in a woman’s body. Didn’t Dr. Frankenstein attempt to creat a new form of life by stiching together disparate body parts? I hear that turned out pretty well, too. If I shot myself full of testosterone I could grow more facial hair too, but I would still only be the man I am. Dressing up in drag doesn’t make me a woman, either. But this “man has a baby” bullshit is nothing more than a circus side show. I’m not saying a person doesn’t have the right do to this, but don’t say that I don’t have the right to be utterly disgusted by it. And the book is published by Seal Press whose slogan happens to be “Groundbreaking Books. By Women. For Women.” Um, doesn’t this mean that you are not now and have never been nor never will be a man? And why is it that the misguided political correctness of today places these people under the umbrella of gay rights issues? It seems that the last thing any of these sex switchers wants is the right to be gay? Why is there never any discussion of Body Integrity Identity Disorder? I want to be a zaftig black woman who sings like a dream. Where’s my goddamned support group and surgeon?
It is with gushing great joy that I share with you news of Graham Rawle’s next book project, The Wizard of Oz. Lord, this artist astounds me. Some will remember my fierce recommendation of his Woman’s World. This new book is just completely different but it looks equally exciting and I cannot wait to get a copy.
I just started reading her first novel Three Girls and Their Brother and I’m loving it. Theresa has such a way with words and I’ve enjoyed watching her career burgeon since way back when I was the assistant to her theatrical agent at the William Morris Agency. Damn, I hate revealing facts about my past lives and my aimless dabblings in showbiz. Sorry.
Some very smart and very thoughtful person got me Lynda Barry’s latest book What It Is for my birthday. It is going to take me a long enjoyable time to get through but I believe it will be an inspiration. I’m very happy with the gift. Half a week later I feel like it’s still my birthday. Silly. But that’s life. And my coach got me an iPod shuffle! So I can dedicate that specifically for running music. No, not music that runs, nor music that gives one the runs. But music to which to listen while running. And, today I ordered a new iPod battery for my old dead 60GB iPod — I hope and trust that it’s not a rip off, but hey, for 29 Yankee dollars, I can’t lose. I’ll either still have a paperweight or I’ll have a lovely iPod that once again works!
The Mercantile Library is celebrating The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett in and around Grand Central Terminal through the month of April. It’s part of their “The Big Read” program. There are lots of activities and events. See the Merc’s website for more information. Plus the book is 20% of at the delightful Posman Books in Grand Central. I love the new cover art for this edition. I think I’ll pick up a copy and check out some of the events myself. I think that a bit of oral interpretation by Betzy with a Z in the Great Hall would be in order, don’t you?
You may remember that back in January I posted about a groovy book called Woman’s World which I had then recently purchased. Visually the book is a graphic sensation. But last night I actually started reading the thing and POW! I just have to rave about this novel. I love what I’ve been reading so much that I sent a fan e-mail to the author and artist Graham Rawle. As I was reading the whole thing was just leaping to life in front of me, the language was tickling my fancy and I was excited thinking about the possibility of staging an oral interpretation production of the thing, which would be tricky but then, most of you know, so am I. Read my previous post, please and go out and find this exciting work. Just to whet your appetite I will quote a bit, but remember, the book is not typeset, rather it was constructed by cutting and pasting fragments of text from old women’s magazines. That’s why you need to get it because the playful language, combined with the typography really create a unique world.
“There was a giddy knot in my stomach and my heart was skipping madly to the beat of Jack Costanzo’s Cha Cha Bongo. These are the sensations that SPRING from being young and feminine and beautifully dressed.”
And, from page seven:
“In the mirror my natural loveliness is quite breathtaking. But the mirror can never take the place of a real PERSON. I yearn to see my winsome charm reflected in the eyes of a real flesh-and-blood admirer. Not one admirer in particular, but any member of the public whose HEAD might turn with an approving glance as I pass them on the street. A dear old lady, refreshed by the sparkle of my unassuming youth and beauty; a teenage boy, intoxicated by the heady perfume of feminine Glamour, compelled to lay down on a grass verge; or an old man, so entranced by my sophisticated yet COQUETTISH demeanour that he forgets his manners and goes to the toilet in his trousers.”
Sigh. It’s the way I would use language if I were to use language to write a book. And the plot is heart-pumpingly thrilling!