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Tag: film

Midweek Miscellany

A fantastic new cover for the Vintage (UK) edition of Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, designed by Matt Broughton (via the Vintage Books design Tumblr CMYK)

CTRL+C; CTRL+P — Music critic Simon Reynolds, author of Retromania, on remix culture and ‘recreativity’ at Slate:

Recreativity has many proponents and represents a wide spectrum of opinion. Still, it’s striking how easily some of these critics and theorists glide from relatively sensible talk about the role of appropriation and allusion in art to sweeping claims of an ontological or biological nature. They seem so confident. How they can be certain that nobody has ever just come up with some totally new idea, ex nihilo? The remixed nature of everything (not new) under the sun has become an article of faith. Impossible to prove, these assertions tell us way more about our current horizons of thought and our cultural predicament than they do about the nature of creativity or the history of art.

The A.V. Club list their 50 best films of the ’90s. (Their list of their most-hated movies is here).

Picture This — Cartoonist Adrian Tomine discusses his work and his new book New York Drawings with the The Paris Review:

If you were to go back in time and talk to the people who invented cartooning, and were doing it for newspapers, and told them that there were going to be guys who were going to do twenty-four-page long stories, they would think that was a strange use of the medium. And if you then said, they’re going to try and inject that with a singular vision and personal experience and do six-hundred-page long stories—I mean, their heads would have exploded.

See also: Adrian on his first cover for The New Yorker at the The Thought Fox, the blog of his UK publisher Faber & Faber.

And Finally…

Speaking of The Paris Review, an interview with editor Lorin Stein at the LA Review of Books:

The tradition of discovering new writers makes it easy to go out and find stuff that excites me, and at the same time feels of a piece with the history… To me it’s like that line in the great Italian novel, Lampedusa’s The Leopard. If you want things to stay the same, everything’s going to have to change. Nowadays we have to exist in the digital world if we don’t want to be strictly of the digital world.

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Midweek Miscellany

Purple Haze — A typically tangential literary collage about Conrad’s Heart of Darkness by Geoff Dyer:

The actual book is far stranger than accounts of it sometimes suggest. It’s a shame in a way that the book has become so famous as to dull our sense of this pervasive strangeness. Re-reading it now I find it scarcely less bizarre than when I plodded through it as a mystified seventeen-year-old (we were doing The Secret Agent for A-Level). What H. G. Wells wrote of Conrad’s earlier book, An Outcast of the Islands, also holds good for Heart of Darkness: “his story is not so much told as seen intermittently through a haze of sentences.”

Read the whole thing. Trapped on a boat, Dyer apparently wrote the piece in one night. You can almost hear him losing his mind.

Etiquette — Caleb Crain on criticism and the role of critics, at The Paris Review:

A non-question has recently preoccupied the literary corners of the Internet: How rude should a book critic be? I call it a non-question because its non-answer is the same as for people in social situations generally: it depends. It’s impossible to find a universal rule that licenses rudeness. There’s always going to be at least one observer who feels that a conflict could and should be handled politely. (And who knows? Insofar as politeness is a skill, maybe there’s always room for improvement.) Also, there’s always going to be at least one observer who describes as honest what others call rude… Only the particular questions are worth debating, and no matter how many questions like them you answer, you never reach a rule that has the purity of math. The most you can hope for is etiquette.

Hackery — Simon Kuper on the fantasy of being an artist, for the Financial Times:

Even if you are sure that it’s your vocation to make art, you are most likely wrong. For a start, if it was your vocation, you would probably have embarked on it aged 18 instead of making a living first. And even people who do devote their lives to their supposed vocation often discover that they aren’t good at it after all. As Nick Hornby writes in his memoir Fever Pitch, in a riff on the failed Arsenal footballer Gus Caesar: Gus must have known he was good, just as any pop band who has ever played the Marquee know they are destined for Madison Square Garden … and just as any writer who has sent off a completed manuscript to Faber and Faber knows that he is two years away from the Booker. You trust that feeling with your life … and it doesn’t mean anything at all.

The Sadness at the Heart of Dredd — A headline as brilliant as it is unlikely… Antonia Quirke reviews Dredd, also for the Financial Times:

Dredd has something absent from all recent action and science fiction films: sadness. How desperately The Dark Knight craved sadness!… The slow-mo moments in Dredd – imagined by the screenwriter Alex Garland and realised by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle – aspire to the bluesy melancholy of the sequence when Joanna Cassidy as the doomed replicant Zhora goes crashing through the glass in Blade Runner: a moment that set the tone for all our hopes for science fiction on screen.

See also: Writer John Wagner talks to the Daily Record about his creation Judge Dredd.

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Something for the Weekend

For the launch of his new book Building Stories, Chris Ware has two exhibitions opening this weekend. The first opens tonight at the Carl Hammer Gallery in Chicago. The second opens on Saturday at the Adam Baumgold Gallery in New York. Both shows will display original art from the new book.

The Snail — The ‘accidental’ history of the @ symbol at the Smithsonian Magazine:

Called the “snail” by Italians and the “monkey tail” by the Dutch, @ is the sine qua non of electronic communication, thanks to e-mail addresses and Twitter handles. @ has even been inducted into the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art, which cited its modern use as an example of “elegance, economy, intellectual transparency, and a sense of the possible future directions that are embedded in the arts of our time.”

A short profile of artist and designer Ray Eames at Dwell:

According to Beatriz Colomina, in her essay “With, or Without You: The Ghosts of Modern Architecture,” even though Charles and Ray Eames were revolutionary by including her name in the brand as an equal partner, Ray didn’t always receive her fair share of credit. An editor from the New York Times once erased Ray’s name from an article on the Eameses, despite protests from the writer, Esther McCoy. McCoy was outraged, and wrote Ray an apology letter outlining her frustrations over the omission (and the editor’s insistence on calling the Eames lounge a casting couch), “This is sheer nonsense; the broad audience isn’t titillated by the phrase casting couch nor does it object to a woman being credited for work,” she wrote.

And finally…

ShortList on Mary Harron’s movie adaptation of American Pyscho:

If there’s one moment in American Psycho that sums up the film’s utter greatness, it’s the business card scene. On the one hand, parodying the narcissism of Eighties yuppies, on the other, lending an insight into the warped psyche of the film’s protagonist… And 10 years after the film was first released, it’s certainly one of the reasons why this darkly hilarious Wall Street satire, based on the Bret Easton Ellis novel, is considered a cult classic and one of the greatest films of the past decade.

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Something for the Weekend

Less Shit Please — A great article on British political cartoonists by Helen Lewis for The New Statesman:

[Martin] Rowson tells me that his fellow Guardian cartoonist Steve Bell always files as late as possible to make the staff grateful that the picture has arrived at all. “There’s a wonderful story about Georgina Henry, when she was deputy editor, going past the comment desk at about eight o’clock one evening and Steve’s cartoon had just come in,” he says. “It was a wonderful one of [George W] Bush as a monkey, squatting on the side of a broken toilet, wiping his arse with the UN Charter. And there’s all this shit splattered on the wall behind it, and she looks and says, ‘Oh God, no.’ [Alan] Rusbridger had put down this edict saying less shit in the cartoons, please – you know, the editor’s prerogative – and she and Steve had this eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation.” What happened? “He finally caved in. In one of the greatest betrayals of freedom of speech since Galileo, he tippexed out three of the turds.”

Holding On — An interview with Francis Ford Coppola at The Rumpus:

when I wanted to do Apocalypse Now, no one would do it. I couldn’t believe it. I was so disgruntled that I had played by their rules and won, yet they still didn’t want to make it. So I just went on myself, and took all the money and property I had, went to the bank, and made Apocalypse Nowmyself. When it came out it was very dicey. People didn’t know what to make of it; it got bad reviews. My films have always gotten a lot of bad reviews. I was very scared that I was going to be wiped out because the Chase Manhattan Bank had all my stuff. I decided I would make a movie that would be very commercial. Every time I’ve tried to do something commercial it’s always failed. So I made One From The Heart.

And what happened was that Apocalypse Now, little by little, started to be a big success and thought of as a classic, a great movie. But by then I was already making One From The Heart and that was a big flop and I lost everything. So from age forty to age fifty I just had to pay the Chase Manhattan Bank all that money, and I just barely ended up holding onto everything. So ironically, the thing I did to solve the problem ended up causing a problem.

Coming or Going? — Tim Parks on the unevenness of globalization for the NYRB Blog:

To what community does a writer belong today? The whole world, might seem to be the obvious answer in an era of globalization. Alas, it’s not that simple… I am known in England mainly for light, though hopefully thoughtful non-fiction; in Italy for polemical newspaper articles and a controversial book about soccer; in Germany, Holland, and France, for what I consider my “serious” novels Europa, Destiny, Cleaver; in the USA for literary criticism; and in a smattering of other countries, but also in various academic communities, for my translations and writing on translation. Occasionally I receive emails that ask, “But are you also the Tim Parks who…?,” Frequently readers get my nationality wrong. They don’t seem to know where I’m coming from or headed to.

And finally…

A new excerpt from Linotype: The Film, which will finally be released in mid-October apparently…

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Midweek Miscellany

Drowning Not Waving — A short profile of Toronto-based cartoonist Jeff Lemire, creator of Essex County and The Underwater Welder, for The Globe and Mail:

Lemire, who profited from art classes in high school but is otherwise self-taught as a graphic artist, first heard about the profession of underwater welder from a colleague at one of the restaurants where he worked before comics started paying the bills three years ago. The father of a three-year-old boy, also named Gus, Lemire felt that underwater welding seemed like a good metaphor for parenthood.

Burdened with Cinema — Clive James reviews The Age of Movies: Selected Writings of Pauline Kael, for The Atlantic:

She could talk well about popular art because she had not only seen all the movies that there were, she would have gone to all the opera performances that there were if she had not been so burdened with tickets to the cinema. When she talked about Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, her remarks were up there with the professional dance critic Arlene Croce’s because she, Kael, had been a connoisseur of dance all her life. She knew her way around a jazz band. Apart from mental equipment like that, her reading was prodigious in its volume, and fully serious in its content. Her house had all the Oz books in first editions—I saw them, and marveled; they looked as beautiful as her Tiffany lamps—but she was by no means restricted just to film-linked popular literature. When she reviewed a Russian movie based on a Dostoyevsky story, she could refer with daunting ease to anything by Dostoyevsky, including all the major novels chapter by chapter.

And finally…

An interview with film director David Fincher at Art of the Title:

I was eight years old and I saw a documentary on the making of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It had never occurred to me that movies didn’t take place in real time. I knew that they were fake, I knew that the people were acting, but it had never occurred to me that it could take, good God, four months to make a movie! It showed the entire company with all these rental horses and moving trailers to shoot a scene on top of a train. They would hire somebody who looked like Robert Redford to jump onto the train. It never occurred to me that there were hours between each of these shots. The actual circus of it was invisible, as it should be, but in seeing that I became obsessed with the idea of “How?” It was the ultimate magic trick.

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Q & A with P. D. Smith

City A Guidebook for the Urban Age is the fascinating new book by British writer and reviewer by Peter D. Smith. Published by Bloomsbury, it is a wonderfully meandering collection of essays on cultural history of the world’s cities and an exploration of architecture and urban life from the earliest cities in Mesopotamia to the future dystopias of The Sleeper Awakes and Blade Runner.

I first came across Peter via his reviews for The Guardian newspaper and his lively Twitter feed which, if you are interested, provides the curious with steady stream links about books, history, science and architecture of the kind one might expect from another cultural magpie, William GibsonCity was still a work in progress at that point and having followed it’s development over the past couple of years, I was glad to finally have the opportunity to read it last month. It didn’t disappoint.

Peter and I talked by email…

When did you first become interested in writing?

As a child I was always writing stories, usually fantasy or science fiction. When I was about thirteen we had to write a story for school during the summer holiday. Mine was a space opera about bug-eyed aliens on a distant world. By the end of the holidays I had filled a whole exercise book and even designed a cover for it. I doubt my poor teacher read it all. But I got top marks for effort at least.Afterwards the other kids in my class started reading it and passing it around. Then this boy from another class got hold of it. He had close-cropped hair and wore Doc Martens boots. Weedy bookworms like me generally tried to keep out of his way, but one day he stopped me outside the school gates. I thought he was going to hit me. Instead he started talking about my story. He liked it! I was astonished and I’ve never forgotten that moment. It taught me something about writing and its ability to connect with people.

Your previous books are about superweapons and Albert Einstein. Why did you decide to write a book about cities?

My doctorate was about scientific ideas in German literature, from Goethe to Brecht. The biography of Einstein and the cultural history of doomsday weapons grew directly out of my interest in the way science and culture influence each other. But for my next book I wanted to do something a bit different, from the point of view of both subject and style. I like subjects that cross boundaries and, right from the start, I loved the idea of writing a history of cities. It allowed me to explore everything from the technology of cities to the invention of writing and theatre. It also gave me the opportunity to experiment with different narrative structures. The vast scale of the subject meant it was impossible to explore in a straightforward narrative. Eventually I decided to write it as a guidebook to an imaginary Everycity. Of course, this brought its own challenges, but it was also fun. Most importantly, it made the whole project – which is in a sense a survey of civilisation – manageable as well as opening up the idea of the city, both as an idea and as a physical reality.

Is learning more about the subject you’re interested in part of the impulse for your writing?

Absolutely. I love researching a new idea. Writing a book is a bit like juggling with different bits of information, ideas, places, and characters. You have to keep them all up in the air, then gradually bring them down to the ground in some kind of order. It’s always an immense challenge and sometimes you feel you’re not up to it. But it’s a great thrill when you find something new – an idea, a fact, a juxtaposition. That’s what makes it all worthwhile.

Which books most influenced your thinking about cities?

Lewis Mumford’s The City in History was one of the books that inspired me initially. It’s an immensely impressive survey. Similarly impressive in both scale and erudition is Peter Hall’s Cities in Civilisation. The sheer imaginative range of Geoff Manaugh’s writing on architecture and urbanism on BLDGBLOG is also a constant source of inspiration. And, of course, Italo Calvino’s wonderful Invisible Cities was always there in the background. It’s such an evocative piece of writing about cities and the urban experience.

Why do you think there has been renewed interest in urban living in recent years?

In the US, the 2011 census showed that more young people are choosing to live in cities. For the first time in a century, big cities in America are growing at a faster rate than the suburbs. That’s happening elsewhere too. Perhaps this is because, after the recession, people are less inclined, or able, to buy homes and prefer to rent instead. Or it could be that a new, wired generation has rediscovered the joys of urban life: of living somewhere with public transport, where you can experience diverse cultures and lifestyles, and where you can tap into the creative buzz of city life. In the developing world cities are also growing at an unprecedented rate, morphing into megacities of 20 or even 30 million people. They are the largest artificial structures ever built. People are drawn to them as they have always been – to find work, education, health care, or to escape the confined world of the village. As the medieval German saying goes: Stadtluft macht frei – city air sets you free.

The book covers a lot of different topics, but the idea of ‘the city’ is a vast, open-ended subject. Were there things you were sorry to leave out?

Yes, certainly. There were many topics that had to be dropped. They included urban myths, street painters, and secret cities, like the ones built during the cold war. Even without these, the first draft was too long and more material had to be cut. But I’m very happy with the finished text. Sometimes in a book like this, less is more.

One of the more sobering part of the book addresses climate change. But you see cities as part of the solution. Why is that?

The population of the world is rising inexorably and cities are growing larger. We need to reduce the ecological footprint of our cities. This can be done with good planning and the use of cutting-edge technologies to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Cities can be green: they can generate their own energy, they can provide bicycle lanes and efficient public transport, they can even grow some of their food in rooftop greenhouses. Concentrating people in cities is a highly efficient way of supplying large numbers of people with clean water, healthcare and energy. By contrast, suburban living, where everyone drives cars and lives in detachedhouses, is wasteful of scarce resources and is unsustainable as a model for the world as a whole. Although New Yorkers produce many times more greenhouse gasses than those who live in Mumbai, New Yorkers are responsible for only a third of the carbon dioxide of the typical American. City living can certainly be part of the solution to the environmental challenges of the future.

Has new technology changed how we live in cities?

Yes, new technologies are always changing the shape of cities. Think of the automobile. The internal combustion engine has had a huge impact on cities and how we live in them, as did railways and subways. In the future, cities will be more aware of their inhabitants. Surveillance technologies and electronic chips and sensors will pervade the structures and spaces of the city. Buildings and streets will respond to your presence, automatically adjusting things like air temperature and lighting. But no matter how advanced our technology becomes, cities will still have to satisfy the same kind of demands that city dwellers have had for millennia. We are social animals and our greatest cities will always be dynamic centres of work, culture, entertainment, and shopping.

Why do you think Blade Runner’s dystopian portrayal of Los Angeles has become the prevalent cinematic vision of the city of the future? 

It’s true – in modern fiction and film, future cities are usually depicted as dystopias. Blade Runner – one of my favourite films – draws on a rich fictional tradition, including HG Wells’ The Sleeper Awakes and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. But this has not always been the case. In the Renaissance, dreaming up ideal cities seems to have been something of a philosophical game among intellectuals and artists. They wanted to reform society and they believed people could be improved by creating perfect cities. The quest for ideal cities continued among architects and city planners into the twentieth century. But writers and filmmakers became more pessimistic about the urban future. Today these dystopian visions have become something of a cliché. People are no longer fleeing the city as they were in the second half of the twentieth century. Maybe the time is ripe for a new idealism about the urban future. As Calvino said, ‘With cities, it is as with dreams: everything imaginable can be dreamed…’.

Do listen to music while you write? What did you listen to writing City?

Yes, I do usually listen to music, both while reading and writing. If I’m writing non-fiction it tends to be classical music, such as Mozart or Bach, especially the cello suites played by Paul Tortelier, which I really love. But it depends on my mood. Sometimes I’ll choose something by Michael Nyman, Keith Jarrett or Brian Eno’s Apollo soundtrack, which is one of my favourites. If I’m writing fiction then it can be anything from Radiohead or Bjork, to Pink Floyd or Talking Heads.

What books have you read recently?

Fiction: Balzac’s Old Man Goriot, Dashiell Hammett’s Red Harvest, Nick Harkaway’s Angelmaker, and Sam Thompson’s Communion Town. Non-fiction: Taras Grescoe’s Straphanger, Roger Crowley’s City of Fortune, and Man Ray’s Self-Portrait.

Do you have a favourite book?

Mervyn Peake’s Titus Groan. Gormenghast is such a powerful imaginary architectural space – a kind of Gothic megastructure. It’s a remarkable creation.

What are you working on right now?

A new non-fiction book about the city of crime. It’s still in its early stages but I’m enjoying it immensely. It’s a wonderful excuse to watch film noir and to read lots of great crime fiction.

Are you concerned about the future of books and book reviews?

Not really. The world of publishing – both of books and newspapers – is certainly changing. I’m writing this on my new iPad which I’ve bought mostly in order to be able to read e-books. I’ve run out of shelf space in my house, so I’m going to expand my library into the digital realm. I’ll always love paper books, just because that’s the technology I’ve grown up with. But a new generation will grow up using e-readers and they’ll see (and read) things differently. I think people will always want to read book reviews in newspapers, whether they are on paper or online. But now book lovers also read and write book blogs and they want to discuss what they’re reading on Twitter. Once if your book didn’t get reviewed in the press that was probably the end of the story. Now a book can become a bestseller because enough people rave about it online. Clearly there are major challenges facing publishers, especially regarding piracy and the pricing of books in an age when many people seem to think they should be free. There’s no doubt it’s a tough time to be making a living as a writer! Plus ça change…

Thanks Peter!

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Something for the Weekend

Isolation — Martin Amis on J.G. Ballard’s novel The Drowned Worldat The Guardian:

Ballard gives The Drowned World the trappings of a conventional novel (hero, heroine, authority figure, villain), and equips it with a plot (jeopardy, climax, resolution, coda); but all this feels dutiful and perfunctory, as if conventionality simply bores him. Thus the novel’s backdrop is boldly futuristic while its mechanics seem antique (with something of the boys’-own innocence we find in John Buchan and CS Forester). In addition, Ballard’s strikingly “square” dialogue remains a serious lacuna. Here as elsewhere, his dramatis personae – supposedly so gaunt and ghostly – talk like a troupe of British schoolteachers hoisted out of the 1930s: “Damn’ shame about old Bodkin”, “Capital!”, “Touché, Alan”. (Cf DeLillo, whose dialogue is always fluidly otherworldly.) We conclude that Ballard is quite unstimulated by human interaction – unless it takes the form of something inherently weird, like mob atavism or mass hysteria. What excites him is human isolation.

(The jacket for the 50th anniversary edition, pictured above, was designed by Darren Haggar)

Avatars of Reaction — New York Times film critics A. O. Scott and Manohla Dargis discuss comic book movies:

A critic who voices skepticism about a comic book movie — or any other expensive, large-scale, boy-targeted entertainment — is likely to be called out for snobbery or priggishness, to be accused of clinging to snobbish, irrelevant standards and trying to spoil everyone else’s fun.

What the defensive fans fail or refuse to grasp is that they have won the argument. Far from being an underdog genre defended by a scrappy band of cultural renegades, the superhero spectacle represents a staggering concentration of commercial, corporate power. The ideology supporting this power is a familiar kind of disingenuous populism. The studios are just giving the people what they want! Foolproof evidence can be found in the box office returns: a billion dollars! Who can argue with that? Nobody really does.

Hmm… Isolation and misery… Really must try harder with this blogging lark…. Have a good weekend.

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Something for the Weekend

Commercial Indifference — Geoff Dyer’s Zona reviewed at the LA Review of Books:

[Dyer] followed a book of eccentric travel writing with a book on photography, and then in 2009 served up a couple of loosely-linked novellas under the, let’s face it, terrible title of Jeff In Venice, Death in Varanasi. Add in Dyer’s pre-2000 offerings on jazz, D.H. Lawrence, and World War I, along with several novels, and you have an oeuvre that resembles a messy and ever-expanding Venn diagram of the author’s obsessions. Even so, a 200-page book about a Russian film from 1979 takes commercial indifference to heroic lengths.

(And much as I love you and your recent redesign LARB, could we get simple RSS feed please?)

The Great Unwashed — Julia Kingsford, writing at The Bookseller, on the cultural snobbery and clichés surrounding Fifty Shades of Grey  (h/t Don Linn):

Surely they can’t be ‘real’ readers whose papery passions have traditionally been our bread and butter and who shop in ‘real’ bookshops? No, these must be a different sort of reader, new and not as good, ‘silly’ and to be only temporarily humoured and nervously served before we gladly see them off as they return to whatever form of entertainment they normally enjoy. Far from intellectual snobbery about readers being the preserve of the book trade, it runs rife through everyday media and culture, constantly perpetuating the view that books are for the few.

Medium-Rare — Author Lev Grossman (The Magician King) on almost being a rare book collector, at Time:

My specialty as a collector is books that almost have value. When I love a book, I don’t buy the first edition, because those have become incredibly expensive. But I might buy a beat-up copy of the second edition, third printing, which looks almost exactly the same as the first edition except that a couple of typos have been fixed. (In the rare book trade the little details that definitively identify a first edition are called “points.” My books are not strong on points.) It’s not glamorous, but it’s still satisfying, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.

And finally…

“New” — An archive interview with art director and pioneer of modern advertising Helmut Krone. There is so much good stuff in this… (via Coudal, naturally):

“New” is when you’ve never seen before what you’ve just put on a piece of paper. You haven’t seen it before and nobody else in the world has ever seen that thing that you’ve just put down on a piece of paper. And when a thing is new all you know about it is that it is brand new. It’s not related to anything that you’ve seen before in your life. And it’s very hard to judge the value of it. You distrust it, and everybody distrusts it. And very often it’s somebody else who has to tell you that that thing has merit, because you have no frame of reference, and you can’t relate it to anything that you or anybody else has ever done before.

(The going rate for Helmut Krone: The Book appears to be upwards of $80 on Abebooks. Time for a reprint?)

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Midweek Miscellany

Survival Training — Colson Whitehead, author of Zone One, on watching horror flicks and b-movies, in science fiction edition of The New Yorker:

It was survival training. “A Clockwork Orange,” which I saw several times on HBO before I was ten, taught me more about not opening my door to strangers than a hundred school-assembly lectures. I never talked much in educational settings, so it is unlikely that I asked my mother, “What are they doing to that woman?” during my introduction to Stanley Kubrick, but, had I inquired, I’m sure she would have said, “It’s a comment on society, son.”

See also: Laura Miller on the first fictional space aliens, William Gibson on science fiction and Tomorrow, and cover illustration by Daniel Clowes (pictured above).

And on a related note: Nobel Prize-winning economist Paul Krugman talks science fiction at Wired.com:

I read Foundation back when I was in high school, when I was a teenager, and thought about the psychohistorians, who save galactic civilization through their understanding of the laws of society, and said “I want to be one of those guys.” And economics was as close as I could get. Those are pretty unique novels — they really are structured nothing like even the great bulk of science fiction, because they are about how social science can be used to save humanity.

Terrifying French children’s books.

And finally… An interesting interview with The New York Times media columnist David Carr (and star of the documentary Page One) at Talking Points Memo:

The tools of production are at hand for everyone. I used to hire a lot of young people when I was the editor of Washington City Paper, and you used to have them show you the clips and see where else you worked. Show me what you’ve made with your own bare little hands. That, I think, is super important. People say, “You should’ve been here for the good old days.” I think that’s crazy. Yeah, it’s a little harder, but you have so many more tools at your disposal to story-tell. It’s cool to be in a business where you still learn. You don’t have to be able to code yourself, but you have to know what coding is. You should be able to work in Final Cut Pro. WordPress should be second-nature. I think, in generational terms, being able to produce and consume content at the same time.

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Midweek Miscellany

The excellent Art of the Title looks at the opening sequences to Anatomy of a Murder and Bunny Lake is Missing by Saul Bass.

Just Getting Started — Bill Moran on the Hamilton Wood Type and Printing Museum in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, for Design Observer:

When you hold a piece of wood type in your hands this deceptively simple piece of mass communication rewards you with its grace but also surprises with its weight. End grain maple is cut from the cross section of a tree yielding a harder and heavier piece of wood. Using the end grain of the wood improves durability with most wood type that was made in the nineteenth century still fully functional a century after its date of manufacture.

Leading the Blind — Nick Harkaway, author of The Blind Giant: Being Human in a Digital World, on book publishers and technology at The Guardian:

There’s a willingness to think: we’ll let everyone else figure out how the market should work, and then we’ll just supply books in the same way that we did to bookshops to electronic sellers like Amazon, Apple and Google. But booksellers are tied to publishing – they need conventional publishing models to continue – but for those companies that’s not the case. Amazon is an infrastructure company; Apple sells hardware; Google is really an advertising company. You can’t afford as a publisher to have those companies control your route to market.

Creative Paralysis — Michelle Dean on the future of ‘serious’ publishing at The Rumpus:

I don’t think there is anyone out there who has recently looked at the state of book publishing, I mean really looked, and not tightened her grip on her wineglass… I don’t work inside or report on publishing, but what limited exposure I do have suggests that there is indeed a crisis on the horizon. Anyone who’s ever wanted to see their name in print on the cover of a book — biography or novel, chapbook or memoir — ought to be thinking about that, about how to sustain the world of books. But the focus on the internet as the death of culture, which drones on in tired refrain on certain book sites, strikes me as bizarre, and overstated, not to mention creatively paralyzing.

And finally…

Eleanor Wachtel interviews composer Philip Glass for CBC Radio:

CBC Radio Ideas: Wachtel on the Arts with Philip Glass mp3

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Something for the Weekend

Cover illustration by Adrian Tomine for the Japanese edition of Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon, published by Shinchosha Publishing.

The Darkness — Norwegian cartoonist Jason profiled in The National Post:

“A comedy that has some darkness, like The Apartment, is more appealing than if it’s just fluff. Ingmar Bergman’s best film, to me, is Fanny and Alexander, that is dark, like many of his early films, but there is a joy also, an affirmation of life,” he continues. “Darkness just for being dark doesn’t interest me that much. … I prefer the vitality of something that isn’t perfect.”

Jason will be at the Toronto Comic Arts Festival this weekend, and you can read my Q & A with him here.

Bam… Bam… Bam… David L. Ulin, writing at the LA Times, on interviewing William S. Burroughs:

“Life is a cutup,” Burroughs says about halfway through his conversation with Ginsberg, referring to his technique of bisecting pieces of text and reconfiguring them as collages, letting the juxtapositions create a meaning that transcends traditional narrative. “And to pretend that you write or paint in a timeless vacuum is just simply … not … true, not in accord with the facts of human perception.”

Yes, yes, I found myself thinking, not least because four years later, Burroughs had said virtually the same thing to me. “Life is a goddamn cutup,” is how he put it. “Every time you look out the window, or answer the phone, your consciousness is being cut by random factors. Walk down the street — bam, bam, bam…. And it’s closer to the facts of your own perception, that’s the point.”

Ulin is referring to a conversation between Allen Ginsburg and Burroughs recently published in Sensitive Skin magazine.

And finally…

A Deadman’s Masterpiece — Gabriel Winslow-Yost on Tarkovovsky’s movie Stalker, the Chernobyl disaster, and the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series of video games, for the NYRB:

The Zone in the video games is a beautifully dangerous place, bigger and grimmer than Tarkovsky’s, but somehow still appropriate. There are plenty of long, tense walks through damp weather or empty, creaking tunnels. Packs of dogs wander the landscape, ruined farmhouses give shelter from the rain; here and there the ground ripples strangely. Stalkers gather around campfires, bandits take potshots at passersby, and a man lies wounded in a ditch, begging for help. Watching Stalker, one is occasionally brought up short by remembering that it was not filmed in Chernobyl, so perfect an analogue does that event seem for the film’s images of technology and nature, beauty and danger in strange alliance. The games, at their best, can seem like a sort of miracle: a dead man’s masterpiece, come home at last.

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Typecaster For Life

“I thoroughly enjoy the sound of the machines turning, and seeing the type come out is a joy”

A really wonderful short film about 80 year-old Lewis Mitchell who has been maintaining Monotype casting machines for 62 years and continues to do so for Arion Press:

 

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