Wonkette
Well, well, let’s take a look-see at the New York Review of Books. There’s some political stuff in here, yes? Sure there is. Besides, in a few months, the only magazines left in America will be a receipt for rice and dried fruit, and even that will be probably be a blog, and owned by Tina Brown. And plus, Steve Coll, a member of the original cast from last week’s magazine discussion, has returned.
“One Big Unhappy Family”: Fred Halliday takes on a new book by Steve Coll about Saudi Arabia. Meet the bin Ladens! They’re a wealthy, influential, and politically well-connected family in Saudi Arabia. Like the Kennedys, kind of?, in the least imposing-a-Western-prism-y way as possible. So apparently, what Coll does is use these people to talk about The Way Saudi Arabians Live Now. Still, he does delve into the psychology of Osama, who is I guess the Caroline Kennedy here except even Osama bin Laden could have probably managed to secure that Senate seat. Anyway, Halliday gives Coll credit for debunking the following Osama urban legends: that ObL was something of a lazy trust-fund kid, that he wanted to “bring down” America, and that he is some sort of weirdo stuck in the middle ages. The more you know! [One Big Unhappy Family]
“Revolutionary Road”: Hilton Als has seen the Milk biopic. Except it’s not a biopic at all—it’s a gayopic, and gay, New Yorker theater critic Als doesn’t take too kindly to its homosexual stereotypes, for instance, the insinuation that gays love the theater! But the film is actually effective, see, because even if we don’t get to know our hero, we’re still moved by his story. Als especially likes how director Gus Van Sant included, in the beginning and end, black and white footage of the real players. In summation, Milk is pretty to look at, and Emile Hirsch and Sean Penn play quite well off of one another, professionally. [Revolutionary Road]
“Such, Such Was Eric Blair”: Eric Blair, as Julian Barnes takes literally about 800 words to announce, is the “Hannah Montana” to George Orwell’s “Miley Cyrus.” Barnes’ long review of three new Orwell books does a few things. First, Barnes commits the Cardinal Sin Of Literary Theory by making biographic deductions about Orwell using the writer’s characters. The authors is dead, etc.! Anyway, Eric Miley Montana Orwell actually is dead, literally, and Barnes tries to piece together his legacy. He’s quite popular! On the right, on the left, everywhere really. Except this popularity sort of means that Orwell sometimes held contradictory ideas in his head at the same time. (A populist but a snob, a British person who relied on his Britishness but condemned it in others, etc.) Let’s call this phenomenon “doublethink.” It will be revelatory. [Such, Such Was Eric Blair]
Yeah, what was that magazine thingy? They sure go on, don’t they?
And, I think all of my commentariat colleagues would surely agree that Thursday afternoons are for drinking. Also.
That movie shamelessly reinforced the stereotype that all gays do is have hot, nasty sex all the time. Don’t remember anything about the theater. Wait, we are discussing the same movie, aren’t we? Harvey’s Milk?
Well you know I love Orwell, but that article was toooo dry and trying-to-sound-smarter-than-Orwell, yuck. NYRB: tl/dr.
I would prefer the New York Review of Pizza or a more native New York approach — how about Books for Schnooks, edited by Eliot Spitzer?
lawrenceofthedesert: Or the NY Review of 5-diamond whores. Essential reading, surely.
So if you are looking for hot tales of ass sex, you’re going to have to read between the lines, I guess.
It turns out that the only way to subscribe to the NY Review is to donate to NPR. That is it. NO OTHER WAY.
Isn’t this the old issue? The new one has Samantha Power humper Cass Sunstein writing about oh, probably that democracy thing he likes to talk about. History also. Yawn. OK now I’m embarrassed to admit I read it.
When I was young, the way I was smart was, I’d hear my daddy talk at home, and I’d go to school and repeat it, best I could remember. That’s how smart was. Then, later on, they did that at the schools; they’d hear the prof say something smart, and they’d remember it, then they’d go to the SUB and repeat it. (cf Good Will Hunting) Then later on still, I’d read Joan Didion in NYRoB, and I’d try and remember, and I’d say it back to everyone. Being smart is overrated. The smartest animals are parrots.
Was hoping for blood on my favorite mag from my favorite DC gossips. Better luck next time…
It’s been years since Wonkette did reviews of book reviews. Did you guys finally get a new intern?
Bowdoin: Joan Didion? Really? Well, well, well, Joan Didion…
Do you think Julian Barnes could just Twitter that info to me? I don’t have time to read the Review — I’m watching Rick Sanchez.
Miley Cyrus reads TLS. Sniff.
Well, they did rip on Toni Morrison’s new one. Which is a half-victory, ’cause they shoulda ripped on her entire freakin’ career.
Zorg: Yep, Joan Didion. And my daddy. Not necessarily in that order.
Tommy Says Soooo, Jugdish!: Being positive, I remember one good Toni Morrison moment. There was a Black doctor in this majority white burg, and he lived on a tree-lined avenue the minorities quite naturally referred to as Doctor Street. It was confusing to the city fathers, who were of course racist to boot. They put out an announcement in the papers. “The section of North Delaware from 14th to 39th is indeed North Delaware, and not Doctor Street. We repeat, NOT DOCTOR STREET!
The name of the stretch of road forevermore even unto now became, of course, Not Doctor Street.