It's the...Book of the Month!

In his introduction to El Monstruo, John Ross starts small and immediate as he describes his room in the crumbling Hotel Isabel where he has lived since the disastrous earthquake in 1985 that left Mexico City leveled in the same way the 1906 left San Francisco.

Ross starts out small but there is nothing small in his history of Mexico City. In fact his tale of the down-and-outs, the prostitutes— those who make up his teeming city— is more of a love affair with a haggard and desolate lover; much like Bolaño’s Chile or Saramago’s Portugal.

This book consumed me. It made me yearn for and recoil from Mexico City all at once. It is the literary and historical heartbeat of a city that always seems on the brink of destruction but somehow lives on.

It is beautiful and heroic tribute to this incredible city.

Palpitations and Secretions

From Wikipedia:

The word critic comes from the Greek κριτικός (kritikós), "able to discern", which in turn derives from the word κριτής (krités), meaning a person who offers reasoned judgment or analysis, value judgment, interpretation, or observation. The term can be used to describe an adherent of a position disagreeing with or opposing the object of criticism.

A review is an evaluation of a publication, such as a movie (a movie review), video game, musical composition (music review of a composition or recording), book (book review); a piece of hardware like a car, home appliance, or computer; or an event or performance, such as a live music concert,a play, musical theater show or dance show. In addition to a critical evaluation, the review's author may assign the work a rating to indicate its relative merit.

Okay, terms defined, assuming everyone's okay with Wikipedia. Let's talk about critical response to literature. Specifically, reviews in the form of a blurb. I've recently been keeping a pretty close eye the blurbs printed on books as I shelve here at Green Apple, often (and sometimes to my chagrin) chuckling over absurdity in them. They are most often laced with awkward metaphors, comparison, and ridiculous alliteration. Sometimes they are totally nonsensical, but other times they go so far as cut down the art of literature itself. A fine example being in a previous entry we had posted, around the time Dan Brown's most recent slab was released. The book was touted as bringing "sexy back to a genre that had been left for dead." If anyone out there read The Lost Symbol, can you maybe explain the what of that statement to me?

A testimony as such kind of blows my mind. They're weird, I don't understand them, and apparently they aren't an all too uncommon tactic in promoting a book either. Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child's Dance of Death has printed on it- "A rare second book in a trilogy that actually improves on the first..." Wait, seriously? A book so compelling that you actually want to finish the story?! I guess it must take two authors. Move over 2666!

In all seriousness though, I'm having trouble understanding this trend. Is there another art form that approves genre-disparaging ad tactics to promote itself? Film? Graphic design? I've certainly never seen an article on a MOMA exhibit proclaiming anything like that. I mean, what if they did? "Not since Goya have we seen such a pulse pounding tour de force!" (yuck). So what gives? If print is supposed to be a dying format, why promote it in such a self defeating way? Wouldn't you want to punch up the idea of interest in the art form itself rather than pushing just one end all be all? Is this promotion at all?

Today I went on a quest to pick out some book titles that feature some real treasures of the terrible blurb world. I'm going to bite my tongue so to speak as far as further commentary goes, but keep in mind the definitions proffered; reasoned judgment or analysis, value judgment, interpretation, or observation. Enjoy.
(hahaha)

"...AN ENGINE DESIGNED FOR ONE PURPOSE- TO MAKE THE PULSE POUND, THE HEART PALPITATE, THE FEAR GLANDS SECRETE."
New York Times Book Review on Red Dragon

"GOES DOWN LIKE CHEDDAR-FLAVORED POTATO CHIPS."
-Kirkus Reviews on Dance of Death

"DIVERTING."
Glamour on The Two Mrs. Grenvilles

"THE MASTER OF THE PARBOILED POTBOILER."
Kirkus Reviews on Wild Fire

Etc, etc, etc...

Marketing of "Men"

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My favorite new show has quickly become Men of a Certain Age, which airs on TNT Monday nights. Besides the fact that it’s a great show to watch, what I really love about it is the branding and marketing of it. Ill review and critique some ads to show you what I mean.

The premise, in case you haven’t seen it, is 3 middle aged men in LA all dealing with their own issues (divorce, kids, job, etc) and finding support in one anothers friendship. Everyone is dealing with these changes in their lives, and are forced with decisions every day that will shape their immediate futures. In a sense, at least one character finds himself at a cross roads every episode.

promo video link

--> In the promo for the series, you see the use of an intersection then the 3 main characters standing there a couple of clips later. The message here is just what I described above and gives you an idea of what the show is about. (Does this road remind anyone else of Cast Away?)

Also used in the promo is, I think, the best song they could possibly have selected: The Beach Boys’ “when I grow up”. The song’s teenage character is pondering what life will be like once grown up. “Will I dig the same things that turn me on as a kid?” The song has a line or two that seems to directly deal with each character in the show. Its so perfect its like Brian Wilson wrote the song just for the show. Id also like to add that the music selection throughout the episodes so far have been great. No one likes Joe’s (Ray Romano) musical taste, but he always insist how great it is, on top of the songs being relevant to the story. In episode #4, after Joe and his bookie friend enjoy a “wild night out” at the hotel where they periodically talk of ex wives and what-ifs , they wake up hung over at the pool the next morning while Marshall Tucker Bands’ “Cant You See” plays. “…cant you see what that woman has done to me”

Joe promo video

Finally, this may be my favorite piece of promotional material. The obvious element is the glass half full or empty? There’s pessimistic and optimistic traits between each of the characters, so it gives you a bit more insight to each one of them. They all look as if they’re trapped inside and a bit helpless. So is the everyday life of these 3 men. The glass appears to just be a glass but I think its also the same style used at the diner they regularly meet at for lunch. The water level may also signify their lives being half over.

Marketing 101 note: You’ll notice that in almost every picture of the 3 guys together, Romano is in the middle. That’s not because he plays a more important character but because he brings the biggest star power to the show, attracting the most attention and being the most recognizable and prominent figure. That’s who they want you to notice. The same technique is used in political debates. Remember the ’08 Democratic debates? Obama, Clinton, and Biden always were positioned in the middle. Same for the Republican debates with McCain.

Joyce Maynard's "Why I Read"

As I'm still recovering from the holiday rush, let's dip into the "Why I Read" files for today's blog entry, shall we? "Why I Read" is an occasional feature of our email newsletter and a personal favorite of mine. We've been gradually posting them online for all to see. In short, we ask authors why they read.


Today's entry comes from Joyce Maynard, a local author whose works include her memoir of growing up in the 1960s (Looking Back), her early 1990s novel To Die For (later made into a movie) and many more. Her latest book, Labor Day, came out last summer. NPR said that "apart from being a successful thriller, this book is a fascinating portrait of what causes a family to founder, and how much it can cost to put it back on the right path." Here's her original essay:

Truth to tell, I didn’t start out as much of a reader. I watched TV as my own private rebellion against the world of English literature. Child of two English teachers who quoted Shakespeare and eighteenth century poetry at the dinner table, I favored “Father Knows Best” and “Gilligan’s Island.” Still, every night before I went to sleep, my father sat at my bedside, reciting poetry. Sometimes he had me memorize Wordsworth. Sometimes Yeats or Blake. And the rhythms stuck in my brain, even as the sitcom stories faded.

I thought about our old practice of memorizing poetry just the other day, when (having come, a little later than some, to the joy of reading great literature) I had reached that scene in Ian McEwan’s novel, Saturday, in which the young daughter—with her whole family held hostage and a knife at her mother’s neck—recites the poem “Dover Beach” and so disarms the man responsible for the crime that he releases them all. It wasn’t brute force or the heroic arrival of a SWAT team that brought about the family’s release: it was Matthew Arnold’s words.

My father could have recited “Dover Beach.” My mother, too. If I had been a more willing student, I would know the poem better than I do. But the rhythms of poetry—the poetry that was as much a part of dinners in my family as the food set on the table—sustain me still. Poetry can save your life, was McEwan’s message. Not just poetry, either, but language, words, the sound of syllables, the music of sentences.

I will never be a physically powerful person, but with words, well chosen, I take on strength. I know this, as a writer, because I know, as a reader, what other writers’ words have done for me. They open up the universe. They lift me out of myself, revealing a larger world.

Words can save your life, is the lesson. I believe it. That’s why I read.

Thanks, Ms. Maynard. Want to read others? On the blog so far: Beth Lisick, Susan Choi, Peter Rock, Dave Eggers, Daniel Handler, and T.C. Boyle.

RIP DAN O'BANNON

We don't talk about film on the blog much, and being that Green Apple houses a formidable selection of movies, I'd like to touch on some Hollywood news today.

This Christmas, as great as it was for me, was overshadowed by an insurmountable loss. On Christmas day I learned that, on December 17th 2009, Dan O'Bannon was taken from this world by Crohn's disease. For those not familiar with the man, O'Bannon was the brains behind the scripts of some of the best sci-fi & horror films of the last forty years. He is the man who penned Alien, Lifeforce, Return of the Living Dead, Total Recall, Screamers, the two best (and in my opinion only watchable) animated shorts featured in the 1981 Heavy Metal movie, and a lot more. He worked with both John Carpenter and George Lucas at different points in their careers, collaborating to create some of the most visually stunning special effects of the seventies.

So for what it is, goodbye Dan. I wish word hadn't come to me so late. You were a true brutalitarian and your efforts to make quality films will be greatly missed. It's time to revisit your work.