Book Trailer: Inherent Vice

I’ve never been able to get through a book by Thomas Pynchon. Well, I should reveal that I’ve only tried once with his Against the Day.  Unreadable as far as I’m concerned.  But I still went out and bought a copy of Gravity’s RainbowJames Joyce is unreadable too and yet I still like him.  I never hold unreadability against a writer because I know how truly stupid I can be while reading – sometimes falling asleep and having to reread many pages.  But this video is probably the best book trailer I have ever seen.  I’d been thinking that the book sounded like a bore, but this trailer has me digging into the side pouch of my briefcase to find some spare change for the bookstore.

Another thing – whoever did the voiceover for this little movie is a stark raving mad genius.  He should read the entire book out loud.  I’d buy that too.

Dante’s Inferno: The Game

Improving upon the most boring character in the history of world literature, Electronic Arts is going to release an action game called Dante’s Inferno.  From the looks of the preview, this version of the Dante character is much more interesting and capable than the literary original who is the main character in the Divine Comedy trilogy consisting of the epic poems called Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.  Author Dante Alighieri wrote himself into his epic poem as a rather stolid, questioning dullard who follows the ghost of Virgil around in hell.  He whines about all the people who did him wrong in life and coincidentally runs into almost all of them during his sour-grapes tour of Satan’s domain.  But this video version of Dante kicks some smokin’ butt.  This is the Dante I’ve been waiting for and I am going to relish using my Xbox controller to stomp around and cut the heads off some nasty devils and repentant sinners.

It’s probably best to at least read Inferno before playing so that you can agree with me on how to improve the irritating main character.  But I will credit Mr. Dante Alighieri with one major achievement: he seems to have invented multi-level game play.  His version of hell is a series of rings that descend toward the most terrible of sins and punishments.  That’s pretty much the definition of modern computer gaming.

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Five Chapters Offers Serialized Stories

FiveChaptersFive Chapters is a literary site that offers stories in 5-chapter installments each week.  Begun by magazine editor Dave Daley, Five Chapters has published over 150 stories by such authors as Stewart O’Nan, Arthur Phillips, Curtis Sittenfeld, John Wray, Wells Tower, Julia Glass, Darin Strauss, Jay McInerney and Kate Christensen.  The site has an incredible simplicity that fully focuses the visitor on the story being offered.

Here’s a Washington Post article about the site.

Charles Bukowski Meets Another Poet

bukowskiThe Rumpus has a piece that Charles Bukowski wrote as a forward to a book of poems by William Wantling in 1974.  He writes about meeting the other poet for the first time and liking him.  It must have been a big thing to be liked by Bukowski because he seems to have a problem with most people.  His piece is touching and shows how sensitive Bukowski really was to the unspoken things.

He writes a bit about style and says:

Style means no shield at all.
Style means no front at all.
Style means ultimate naturalness.
Style means one man alone with billions of men about.

Is that really it?  Boy, Bukowski would have hated me to the ends of his toes because I’m always arguing my point.  The problem I have with what he’s saying there is that he made a living by writing with the biggest shield of all in front of him.  A bottle.  It’s the best shield there is.  Bullet-proof.  So he must be wrong about style.

Saving Books and Finding a Rare Don Quixote

My wife and I were knocking around New York City last week because we visited the excellent show of Picasso paintings and etchings at the Gagosian Gallery on West 21st Street.  Afterward, we stopped into The Strand bookstore in Greenwich Village.  They were selling the book that accompanies the Picasso show for a full twenty dollars less than the gallery.  We decided to go next door to the store’s rare book department where they keep their very valuable and dusty old tomes for the serious collectors of New York.  We went through the steel door and felt that we were entering the high-security wing.  The smell of decaying literature was immediate and sort of relaxing as all rotten literature should be.  We walked around quietly as the employees set up tables of wine glasses for a publisher’s party that would be starting shortly.

I soon found myself strolling down a narrow aisle toward a large window with a massive old air conditioner cranking away near the ceiling.  I could feel the cold air flowing past me and after walking all over the Village it was a welcome respite.  I came to the shelf near the window and noticed a wonderful illustrated volume full of Shakespeare’s history plays.  I pulled it out and began to flip through and was amazed to find a picture on nearly every page.  I wanted it.  I was also enjoying the cold air and the nice fine spray of water droplets on and about my head and shoulders.  ‘Ahh, misters,’ I thought to myself languidly.  ‘They must think of everything here because of the serious collectors who come through each day.  They must be kept comfortable in the heat or they will go elsewhere.’

So I continued to flip through Henry the Fifth and wondered if one hundred and twenty-five dollars was a lot to pay for the histories.  But I didn’t want to leave the misters yet because they were cooling me very nicely… ‘Misters?,’ I thought.  ‘Misters?  Really?  Water spraying about my head in the rare books department?  What on earth kind of idea is this?’ I looked up at the air conditioner and was met with an increased volume of cold water against my face.  Then I looked down at the shelf of rare books beneath the windowsill and saw a large puddle of water on the shelf and droplets of water spattered far and wide over an intimidating selection of fine rare books.  ‘This just can’t be right,’ I thought as I backed away quietly.  I had a bizarre impulse to gather my wife silently and flee.  But I could find no apparent wrongdoing in my situation so I halted.

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