Salvage Heart

A new book by Alexander Dumas, discovered. I assumed that the leather bindings meant that I was finished. Instead, The Last Cavalier.

Michael Dirda in the Washington Post
Christian Science Monitor

And many other relevances, now in the news.

I'm with Dirda, at least in having read a dumbed-down version (Three Musketeers?) as a child.

Labels: Alexander Dumas, books, Dirda, fiction

My profile on Matthew Stadler, man behind Back Room, founder of Clear Cut Press, author, etc., ran in today's Oregonian. It's a piece that I spent a lot of time on, and one that at 1,500 or so words, left a lot on the cutting-room floor. Thanks to those who took time to speak with me, even if you didn't appear in print.

The article can be viewed here>>
http://www.oregonlive.com/oregonian/stories/index.ssf?/base/entertainment/1181163316186660.xml&coll=7

Labels: authors, Clear Cut Press, fiction, journalism, Matthew Stadler, Oregonian

For those of us fortunate enough to around a television set at 4 in the afternoon, Tuesday was that rare moment: an interview with Cormac McCarthy as tie-in to Oprah's surprising pick of The Road as her last book club pick.

The famously reticent writer has, if rumor and hearsay can be trusted, given only two interviews since anyone cared enough to request one. spoke with Oprah from this weird New Mexico think-tank that he hangs out at.

It was curious to see someone so completely out of step with the publicity machine go on to Oprah and swat at her softball questions. McCarthy, hand stuck to his face, delivered brief, halting, reluctant responses, displaying a disregard for audience (thousands? millions? so what?). She lead him with "remember whens" like "remember when you lived in a shack with no electricity, and had no toothpaste?"

Oh, Cormac replied, that's right, but then a free sample showed up in the mailbox, and, well, his whole career has been like that. He got evicted from a $40/month flop in New Orleans because he was too broke, but I don't recall a satisfying conclusion to that story.

Viewers also learned from Oprah that she had interviewed a LOT of authors. She made that point twice. She also struggled to comprehend his lack of interest in sales, and she tiptoed around his personal life, though mentioned his three wives.

Oprah's site has some interesting material on it, but requires registration, which I have been too lazy to do. However, if you are considering her next pick, Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex (announced that same show), might be worth registering. You can join the 14 of us who have yet to read this. Great beach read, she insisted. Nothing like taking a well-read book to the beach. Personally, I like to take an entire year's worth of Atlantic Monthly back-issues.

Also on that day's Oprah: Michael Moore, and her faux-embarrassment at being on two of the 20 Vanity Fair covers for their forthcoming issue on Africa.

Labels: authors, Cormac McCarthy, fiction, magazines, Oprah, television

I reviewed Miranda July's collection of short stories in today's Oregonian. Liked it.

Advance copy actually came in three (slim) volumes, one pink, one yellow, one orange, and bound with a thick yellow rubber band. Or "gumband" as I understand they say up Pittsburgh-way.



These stories won't be for everyone. In fact, a decent litmus test might be whether or not you like the site July put together for the book.

She's in Portland on Friday, May 18. The event is a benefit for PICA.

Labels: authors, fiction, Miranda July, Oregonian, Portland, review, short stories, writing

New "Talk of the Book Town" posted today (and printed for that matter), here.

I'd figured there'd be a good-sized crowd at this event and I could go around and interview other writers in attendance who didn't make Granta's Best of Young American Novelists list.

Maile Meloy and Anthony Doerr made the list, and were good sports about talking to the few faces and empty chair backs. Doerr is an excellent reader, very animated.

My one question turned out to be an ignorant one (go figure): how did this best-of collection differ from other potential lists, and was there a Britishness to the lineup on account of it being a British magazine's line-up? Of the half-dozen or so judges, a majority were American (I suppose you could make the case that the judges were selected based on what a British magazine's expectation of an American judge would be, but why bother).

Somewhat surprisingly though, neither Doerr or Meloy seemed comfortable with the query, particularly as it gave a close shave to "what's wrong with this list" territory: both started hemming and hawing and backing away from each other and twisting their hands and looking generally awkward (in contrast, they looked like BookTV interviewees when responding to "talk about your process" queries). The general response, however, was that the list reflected New York, big publishing houses, and didn't dig very deep. Not exactly usual suspects, but....

Doerr said he didn't expect to win, but then again he didn't know they were doing the list. "It's not like, 'ooh, now the decade has passed'" and an update was due. Not like Young Lions, which writers in the know evidently can expect to be awarded (or to be ignored) in March.

The piece that each submitted is new, and from what they read, worth tracking Granta 97 down for.

Labels: authors, books, fiction, Oregonian, Powell's, readings, Talk of the Book Town

My review of Michael Chabon's long-delayed The Yiddish Policemen's Union ran today in The Oregonian. I liked it. I think I'll probably like it more over time.

Sammy Clay: "I didn't know they were making detectives out of Jews."

Detective Lieber: "They just started. I'm kind of the prototype."
--from The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
Lots of coverage of this one, which I have studiously avoided, first to avoid polluting my own limited faculties with other people's ideas, then to avoid highlighting the errant ways of my own writing. Help yourself, however:
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/05/01/arts/bookmer.php (Kakutani in the International Herald Tribune)
http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/books/la-bk-ulin29apr29,1,6103230.story?coll=la-headlines-bookreview (LA Times)
http://www.esquire.com/fiction/book-review/jew0507 (Esquire...for the articles, I tell ya)
and this one that I did read, the Wall Street Journal:
http://online.wsj.com/public/article/SB117763122648184171-b9edIOKICZmr0eOnlVX5XtVvH3I_20070526.html?mod=tff_main_tff_top

A quick look shows critics getting their yids in, dropping Philip Marlowe mentions, and pondering where Chabon has been since K&C.

My theory? Check Chabon's Web site, on which he was do his own coding, which he taught himself. You can't check it b/c it's gone. But the fact that he was teaching himself PHP or whatever, while committing himself to research, while ostensibly writing a book suggests that there were too many cooks in the creative kitchen. Just a hunch.

I had hoped to get to a quick review of David Simon's Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, which I recently read for the first time. It is outstanding (regardless of whatever Chabon's claims to research are, none of his homicide investigations approach that which David Simon renders). But hope, mon frere, gives way to paint fumes on this Sunday evening. Some other time, perhaps.

Labels: authors, books, crime, fiction, Michael Chabon, Oregonian, review, Yiddish Policemen's Union

A few published items since last post:

Talk of the Book Town misreads coordinates, and ends up at William T. Vollman's talk at Powell's on Thursday March 15. Apologies to Tim Flannery, whose event I had been scheduled to cover. This is obviously unrelated to a vast conspiracy to obfuscate the global warming crisis. NO ONE has written more extensively about the hidden islands of the arctic than me.

My review of Elizabeth Hickey's new novel The Wayward Muse runs. A thank-you note is unlikely.

Looking Glass Books makes its move to Sellwood, and no mention is made of the irony of a bookstore finding its fate conjoined with that of a caboose. (looking for an article link...)

Finally, from the annals of the unpublished: a rejection notice from the good folks at 33 1/3, who deigned not to pluck my proposal from the 400+ to be one of the series' next 20 to be issued. Disappointing but no surprise: the readership did not jump for joy at the prospect of a book about Tom Petty's Full Moon Fever. A competing proposal suggested Damn the Torpedoes. Four more people took the time to write up queries for (and I hesitate to even type this as I don't want to inadvertently draw any of her fan-traffic) Tori Amos' Boys for Pele (not linked). (UPDATE: New titles in the series announced, INCLUDING Tori Amos?!)

Labels: fiction, Looking Glass, Oregonian, Portland, Powell's, review, Talk of the Book Town, William T. Vollmann

Walter Kirn spoke at Powell's the other night, and while the book, which ran entirely on Slate.com as a serialization, sounded moderately entertaining, Kirn's talk, and enthusiasm for online writing was as energetic as the crowd listening was flat.

Booklovers aren't game to hear stories about the death of books, and the Thumbsucker author didn't make it any too palatable. He also talked about our willing secession of rights to privacy, and how some mammalian impulses cause us to project feelings onto celebrities like, well, celebrities. And as it turns out, the celebrities don't even care.

Obviously he doesn't know all the celebrities, and therefore has no idea whether Jennifer Garner, as one example, cares. I might argue she does. One example.

A round-up of the discussion ran in today's Talk of the Book Town feature in The Oregonian.

COLLECTORS NOTE: This is the first, maybe even only, column to bear the nonstandard "Stanten" spelling of my surname. Not to be confused with "Santen" or with the "Suntan" variation that ran periodically for five years of Willamette Week articles. Or with "Stanton" or "Santeen," saltine, satan, or as one woman asked today, "Santend"?

Labels: fiction, Oregonian, Talk of the Book Town, Walter Kirn

My review of Daniel Alarcón's Lost City Radio ran in Sunday's Oregonian. The advance readers copy has a slightly different cover than the final. Maybe I'll scan it in if I can find it. Alarcón will be at Powell's on Tuesday (look for $6 remaindered copies of War by Candlelight, his strong debut story collection, there as well).

There's an illuminating interview with the author from last fall on the Loggernaut reading series site:

And of course, a round-up of other reviews.
Christian Science Monitor (courtesy of Powells.com)
SF Chronicle (Alan Cheuse)
and others I haven't read yet.

Labels: books, Daniel Alarcón, fiction, Oregonian, review