Philip Marchand’s Reading Life

George Eliot: a crucial figure in Marchand's reading life.

The National Post, formerly my employer and still an occasional publishing outlet for my stray essays, is rather like a Dickensian heroine: abandoned by a feckless father (a jailed genteel social climber no less, rather like Little Dorrit’s dad) the paper lives an orphan’s precarious existence, fending off creditors, the poorhouse, and even death itself. Yet like the spunky star of a Victorian cliff-hanger, the Post always manages to escape at the last minute from the numerous threats against its existence.

The paper’s most recent near-death scrape happened a few weeks ago. For many reasons I’m happy to see that the paper has once again outwitted fate, but chiefly because the Post is the current home for Philip Marchand’s book review column.

Because he’s a literary jack-of-all-trades, Marchand doesn’t quite have the profile that he deserves. He’s written 5 books, all in completely different genres: Just Looking, Thank You (Tom Wolfe style reportage), Marshall McLuhan (a superb biography), Deadly Spirits (a wry noir crime novel), Ripostes (literary criticism), and Ghost Empire (a unique mixture of history and travel writing).

Rare for a newspaper writer, Marchand is extremely well read, although he rarely shows off his erudition but rather uses it to inform his take on new books. Marchand’s one rival among newspaper reviewers is the Washington Post’s Michael Dirda, similarly learned. But Dirda tends to be a bit of a dandy with a love of eccentric minor writers. Marchand, by comparison, brings a greater moral seriousness to his reviews. Marchand manages to be worldly without being cynical and morally concerned without being self-rightous. His recent reviews can be found here.

Talking about Crumb & God

Crumb's version of Abraham and Isaac

 

Crumb’s The Book of Genesis Illustrated is one of the most exciting books of the year. I reviewed the volume for Bookforum, which can be found here. On the Inkstuds radio program, I engaged in an extended conversation on the book with Paul Stanwood, an English professor at the University of British Columbia. You can listen to our talk here.

 

I was greatful for the radio talk, because it allowed me to bring up issues that I had to skimp in the review, in particular Crumb’s use of ethnicity (unlike many other visual represenations of these stories, the characters actually look Middle Eastern), the fact that Crumb is working in the tradition of the grotesque rather than the heroic, and the merits of the translation Crumb relied on.

So You’re Thinking of Converting From Anglican To Catholic

In an extraordinary bid to lure traditionalist Anglicans en masse, the Vatican said Tuesday that it would make it easier for Anglicans uncomfortable with their church’s acceptance of female priests and openly gay bishops to join the Roman Catholic Church while retaining many of their traditions.–The New York Times

Congratulations on deciding to make the switch!  If you’re a PC user who has just switched to the Mac and want to find out how to adapt your old working habits to the Mac OS, you’ve come to the right place.  Wait.  Sorry.  That was plagiarized from Apple.com.  But really, it’s not such a different concept.  In converting to Catholicism, you are really just switching over your “files” (ideas/customs/most profound expressions of faith) to your “Mac” (Catholic) “hard drive” (brain/immortal soul.)

Although it may feel that you’re entering a brand new world on your Mac with Catholicism, you’ll be happy to know there are some interface elements that should be familiar from Microsoft Windows the Anglican church.  For instance, you are clearly already experienced with suspending disbelief.  The Anglican church has no central hierarchy, and the Archbishop of Canterbury is the first among equals.  Right.  That makes sense.  (I’m rolling my eyes.)  If you don’t think that’s weird, you are prepared for our notion of geography. Vatican City is in Rome, which is in Italy, but it’s actually its own city and country.  Pretty cool, right?  Similarly, once you start believing that communion is literally the body and blood of Christ, instead of a symbol, anything seems possible.  Life is way more fun when you are optimistic.

When confronted with something new, it can be tempting to think of the ways it is a lesser version of the old.  This will make you depressed.  Instead, like a new boyfriend who you need to stop comparing to your ex who was actually a lot cuter and knew how to take you to restaurants besides Thai Gardens lunch special, try to focus on the ways Catholicism is great for its own special reasons.   For instance, the Anglican church was founded by King Henry VIII, who, while mad hot on The Tudors, was actually a fat lard.  The Catholic Church was founded by Saint Peter, who wasn’t  fat and currently lives in heaven with Jesus and Peter Gallagher when he dies.

Besides Jesus H. Christ, history is filled with cool, famous Catholic people.  What’s that you say?  That’s because they were born before the Reformation?  Sorry, I can’t hear you. My Ludwig Van Beethoven cd is on too loud.

Some other smaller perks include being able to write a great autobiography, especially if you are from Ireland.  We get 50 cents off at Tasi Delight (with a valid Tasti Card), and all nail salons have a secret back room with secret colors that only Catholics know about, including Wafer White, Thorny Brown, and Vatican Velvet.  These are also the names of our secret racehorses that run in secret Catholics-only races.

Speaking of races, a lot of people considering the switch have been asking about our policy on black people.  We currently allow them.  But we’re working on it.

In conclusion, although it may feel like you’re entering a brand new world on your Mac, with Catholicism, you’ll be happy to know that there are some interface elements that should be familiar from Microsoft Windows. Because Catholicism is way better and you are going to love life a lot.

Where the Wild Things Came From

Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are

 

The recently-released movie adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things are has been quite a hit. One happy result of the success of the movie is that many people are returning to the original book. A surprisingly cogent essay on Sendak was written in 1980 by Hilton Kramer, before his descent into terminal crankiness. Kramer reviewed Selma Lanes book The Art of Maurice Sendak. Kramer’s review can be found in his book The Revenge of the Philistines.

Super Poems

The Human Torch burning bright

In a plot line inspired by Robert Frost’s poem Road Not Taken, fictional character Archie Andrews has already proposed to Veronica and will propose to Betty next month.  I wonder what it would be like if other comics were inspired by poems…(imagine dreamy music and blurry vision.)

On His Blindness—John Milton

Spiderman is blind, worries about his moral value as a superhero, comes to a new appreciation for spidey sense.

The Imperfect Enjoyment –Lord Rochester

Calvin and Susie finally do it, it doesn’t go well.  Probably because they’re in first grade.

The Waste Land—T.S. Eliot

The Green Lantern considers a stranger’s childhood in Austria, plays game of chess HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME into the fire Power Ring Jesus Buddah Shakespeare your mom HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME and we shall play a game of chess The Giant Puppet.

An Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot—Alexander Pope

Superman laments his status as the number one superhero because it means lots of annoying hero-wannabes are all up in his grill for advice.

The Lady’s Dressing Room—Jonathan Swift

While visiting Professor Xavier at his Westchester mansion, Angel accidentally walks in on Marvel Girl while she’s changing. He finds out just how many pairs of spanx are required to get her into the green body suit.

Hollow Men—T.S. Eliot

Anthony Stark quits being Iron Man for a while, goes back to his company, but he’s just middle management.  It’s not as fun as being a super hero and driving a sweet Audi.  His alcoholism is less charming and more necessary

All those cat poems—T.S. Eliot

Batman loses his brooding, grumbley side.  Becomes jolly, whimsical, roly-poly.

The Shield of Achilles—W.H. Auden

Steve Rogers becomes Captain America, except World War II actually really terrible.

Tiger—William Blake

The Human Torch is in the forests of the night.

The Ultimate in Self-Hatred

Well, he is Semitic....

According to the Daily Telegraph — alas, not a reliable source on this or any other matter — Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is really Jewish. I’ll just quickly note that this opens up the way for a whole new round of jokes about Jewish self-hatred. My favorite in the category is Woody Allen’s emphatic denial of the accusation: “Hey, I may hate myself, but not because I’m Jewish.”

My Metropolitan Diary

Dear Diary, Today I discovered that my best friend Lindsey is gossip girl.

Dear Diary,

This summer, I was reading my book on the steps in Union Square when one of the chess teachers came up and made me smell his cup of “tea.”  I’m pretty sure it was just gin.

Dear Diary,

One winter I was in the playground with my friends, and we wanted to make a snowman.  I scooped out a bunch of snow from the trash can.  I also scooped out a diaper filled with poop.

Dear Diary,

This summer, while waiting in line outside to sell books to the Strand, my line friends and I watched a homeless guy get in a fight with some garbage.  I thought nothing of it and went back to playing solitaire on my ipod, but the guy in front of me called the police, explaining that “he’s not really doing anything, he’s just scary.”  The police came, but by that point the homeless guy had moved down the block, so I didn’t technically see what happened.  But I imagine the homeless guy continued leading his life of grinding poverty, and the guy in front of me continued his life of being a complete jackass.

Dear Diary,

One time a girl in my high school met a guy on the subway, and she gave him a handjob.  True story.

Dear Diary,

Today I sat down next to a cute old lady on the M86 bus and smiled at her.  I didn’t realize I’d accidentally sat on a tiny corner of her Burberry Trench until she pulled it from under me, saying, “Watch it, fatty.”

Dear Diary,

A few years ago, I was waiting for the subway at Chambers street when I saw a rat run down the platform with a cheeseburger in its mouth.

Dear Diary,

Today I threw an empty soda bottle into a trashcan, and a rat jumped out at my face.

Dear Diary,

A few years ago I was running into the subway to get to school on time, and I was proud of myself to have picked a practically empty car.  As we rolled out of the station, I was filled with questions. Why is everyone crowded into that far corner away from me?  Why is the homeless guy next to me snoring so loudly?  And why is does that huge pile of human feces by the door have sneaker prints leading to my sneakers?

Dear Diary,

In the spring the ginkgo trees make my neighborhood smell like barf plus fart.

A List in Response to a News: Ladies’ Specials? That’s What She Said!!!!

toot toot!!! All aboard!!!!!!!!!!!!

In an effort to make travel safer and more pleasant for women, several new commuter trains in India are for women only.

Other Places I would Like To Be Only For Women

1. The women’s bathroom at the movie theater on 68^th street last night.   That was really weird.

The end.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

(Sophie)

Kristol and the Uses of Religion

In my previous posting, I noted that Irving Kristol had a utilitarian attitude towards religion, viewing it as a necessary instrument of social control. For readers who might want more detail, I recommend this review of Kristol’s book Neoconservatism by Steve Vieux in New Politics.

Irving Kristol, RIP

Irving Kristol died yesterday and I’ve been wrestling with the issue of whether I should write a note on his passing or not. When a political adversary leaves the scene, I’m inclined to follow the principal of “de mortuis nil nisi bonum” (of the dead, speak no ill). The passing of William Buckley, who had much the same baneful impact on the world as Kristol, was met by me with an attempt to capture the impact of his charming literary voice. That’s harder to do in Kristol’s case since his prose was bluntly utilitarian: effective at making a point but rarely memorable.

What good can be said about Kristol? He was by all accounts a genial personality and a good family man. He was smart enough to realize that he wasn’t as intelligent as his wife, Gertrude Himmelfarb, a respected historian and the real intellectual giant of the family. He was a very gifted editor, with an eye for pressing issues and young writers (as witness his tenure at Encounter in the 1950s and The Public Interest from the mid-1960s until a few years ago). As an editor, he was at his best when he partnered with a co-editor with a more moderate and temperate sensibility (like Stephen Spender at Encounter or Daniel Bell in the early days of The Public Interest).