Emdashes—Modern Times Between the Lines

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Martin Schneider writes:

Last Friday I attended one of the most memorable (not exclusively in good ways) author events I have ever been to. The estimable Tina Fey has a new book out (Bossypants), and she made one author appearance in the New York City area (she will visit only four other cities in the entire tour).

At the event, scheduled for 7pm at the largest retail event space in the city (the Barnes and Noble on Union Square, 4th Floor), Fey would be interviewed by The New Yorker's editor in chief, David Remnick; Fey has recently published (continued)

Martin Schneider writes:

I've always liked Sidney Lumet's movies, and I've always liked the idea of Sidney Lumet's movies, the elevation of sheer storytelling craft over self-indulgent personal expression. Lumet had plenty to express, all right, but he did it with a minimum of fuss and always with his full attention on entertaining the viewer in an intelligent way.

One of the nice things about a career that is so long and varied and apparently free of auteurist mannerisms is that every fan will have a different collection of favorites. Some champion Network; give me The Morning After instead. You like Equus? I'll take Murder on the Orient Express. Oh, you want Before the Devil Knows You're Dead? I'm happy with Prince of the City. And I've left out at least ten pieces of compulsively watchable Hollywood product.

He had his turkeys, and he had his hits. He made a lot of movies, and most of them were darn good. I think someone once called him the greatest hack director who ever lived; I think he would have understood the profound compliment implied therein.

PS: For more on Lumet, the comments in this ArtsBeat post are uniformly wonderful.
(continued)

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Emily Gordon writes: Thanks to Jennifer Hadley (who also created the original Emdashes logo!) for this: newspaper nail art, courtesy of old media, carefree youths unaware of their own impending obsolescence, rubbing alcohol (“or vodka”), and clear polish. Via, in turn, Je t’aime Morgan and Not Martha. Jennifer thoughtfully follows up with this YouTube video with better instructions. I see this not as a stomp on the corpse of newsprint but as a tribute to its beautiful ordinariness. It’s likely the twentysomethings posting these tips see it as beautifully retro or vintage. I guess that’s OK, too. (continued)

Jonathan Taylor writes:

Someone's probably written about this already, but, my sometimes ingenious search skills haven't managed to draw it out.

Tyler Cowen linked to a post by James Somers from about a year ago, about the skillful deployment of the phrase "It turns out...." He says it can have the magical effect of convincing even alert readers, in the absence of evidence, of a proposal "in large part because they come to associate it with that feeling of the author's own dispassionate surprise."

This reminded me of an observation—not exactly related and not nearly so incisive—that I've long made about the use of the word "apparently," by people relating information recently gleaned (continued)

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Jonathan Taylor writes:

Via Andrew Sullivan, an appreciation of airport carpets, from George Pendle at IconEye. (continued)

Jonathan Taylor writes:

An intriguing tip for choosing books to read, from Tyler Cowen:

5. The very best books in categories you think you cannot stand ("gardening," "basketball," whatever) will be superb. It is not hard to find out what they are.
(continued)

Jonathan Taylor writes:

I normally avoid the cross fire of film criticism, but must quickly second Wolcott's estimation of the "stupendous" post at The Sheila Variations about Michael Tolkin's 1991 film The Rapture, illustrated with a stunning parade of the faces of Mimi Rogers; as many times as I've seen this film, I was too often too focused on what Tolkin was up to, to realize how much Rogers was doing.

I'd even quibble with Sheila's assessment of the girl who plays Rogers's daughter—or at least of the hair-raising effect of her whiny plea, "Why can't we die now, mommy?" (Just see it. Ditto re: "the pearl.")

I think Gary Indiana somewhere described Tolkin's films as "period movies about the present." That present still remains ours enough to still feel this effect, even as it is now enough the past, to add another layer of significance. (continued)

I was rereading some of Charles Taylor’s beautifully crafted, sometimes contentious reviews on Salon (I didn’t like Million Dollar Baby either), and the web wonderland led me to this 2006 interview with Taylor (or Charley, as I may call him because we’re friends) in Slant magazine. He talked about his career at Salon and elsewhere, the state of film criticism and media outlets (a phrase I already know will make him wince—sorry about that) generally, and more. Here’s a choice response, among many:
JK [Jeremiah Kipp]: You’ve frequently cited Pauline Kael as a major influence.
CT [Charles Taylor]: I got a paperback copy of “Deeper Into Movies” by Pauline Kael when I was in eighth grade. That was a major influence. I still think she’s the best film critic that is ever going to be. She was the best influence and the biggest influence. It was about trusting your instincts, which always the line about her. This is what I loved. This is why all of the “I Was a Former Paulette” articles I’ve read are all, to a one, simply wrong on the facts. I had countless disagreements with her, even arguments. I was never excommunicated. Some of the critics she liked were people she didn’t agree with. She wanted people to be honest. Art should be pleasure, not work. You have to bring your life experience to it, your experience of the other arts to it, you have to be well read, and no one should tell you what you have to like or what you should be interested in. The job of the critic is to help you formulate your own thoughts. Articulate them. Not to tell you what to think, but to get you to think. There was a freedom in her.
Read the whole interview, and the comments, too. (continued)

Jonathan Taylor writes:

Last Thursday, the Paris Review hosted a convivial reading from the works of novelist, memoirist and journalist—of authorSybille Bedford, who would have turned 100 this year (and came closer than most; an Alan Hollinghurst article headlines her as a "Child of the Century"). The event was organized by Lisa Cohen, the author of the forthcoming All We Know—"portraits of the neglected modernist figures Esther Murphy, Mercedes de Acosta, and Madge Garland"—and a friend of Bedford.

Cohen called Bedford a "sympathetic, vulnerable mind," exhibiting something of the gift for "compression" she also noted in Bedford's writing. To wit: Courtney Hodell read from the opening of Bedford's travelogue of Mexico, A Visit to Don Otavio, which includes the observation that "Arrival and Departure are the two great pivots of American social intercourse.... What counts is that you are new. In Europe where human relations like clothes are supposed to last, one's got to be wearable."

And in an assessment of her protagonist's first sexual encounter with a man, in the novel Jigsaw, Bedford wrote, (continued)

Martin Schneider writes:

Last Sunday 92Y perpetrated a switcheroo. Longtime TV analyst Jeff Greenfield has hosted a recurring series of interviews at 92Y for (if I heard the intro right) something like 30 years, a forum he has used to interview people like Newt Gingrich and presumably also people whose opinion is worth a damn. (Although, to be fair, Greenfield referred to that interview in a way that made it sound worth watching.)

At the moment Greenfield has a new book to flog, Then Everything Changed, an entertaining exercise in alternate history from the sound of it. So for this one night, Greenfield was the (continued)

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