Every Sunday the New York Times Book Review interviews an author about his or her reading habits. The key word is ‘author;’ sometimes the interviewee, rather than a writer, is a celebrity (usually an entertainer of some sort) who has written a book but would never be described as bookish. Loretta Lynn’s answer to pretty much every question – last great book read, best book received as a gift – was “the Bible.”
This past Sunday the featured author was the actress Gabrielle Union. One of the questions asked her to name a book that was “disappointing, overrated, just not good.” Most writers dodge this one, or mention a weighty tome that has defeated many readers. Not Ms. Union. “The Great Gatsby, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, you can keep it,” she said. “Slaughterhouse-Five, keep it. White Fang, The Old Man and the Sea, Moby-Dick – please, keep it. My life did not change for reading any of those. If I didn’t have to write papers and do assignments on them, I would’ve gladly never finished them after the first chapter.”
Reading that, I wondered why the Book Review insists on interviewing non-readers about their reading habits. It only embarrasses them, which can’t be the editors’ intention. Can it?
My cartoon yesterday showed a couple reclining under an umbrella. The man was reaching for the newspaper on a table while his wife asked, "Do you want to read the Times or do you want to enjoy your Sunday?"
It got some nice comments, all agreeing that the news these days was overwhelmingly depressing. But my comment was about the rest of the paper, the unrelentingly dyspeptic tone that colors the Review section, the magazine, even the book review. Sunday after Sunday, the staff of the New York Times appear to be the unhappiest people in journalism.
I seem to be in the minority - again - in not being overly enthusiastic about The Chair, the new Netflix series about a college English department. Perhaps my expectations were too high - a show that didn't take place in a hospital or a police precinct - but I found the first episode to be full of caricatures, from the doddering old dons to the disheveled alcoholic novelist. Going from The White Lotus to The Chair is a bit like going from Edward Albee to Fresh Off the Boat.
The obituary for Neal Conan, former NPR journalist and host of the show "Talk of the Nation," noted that after his retirement he became a macadamia nut farmer in Hawaii.
I'm heading off on a road trip tomorrow and will be back here toward the end of next week.
Saw Roadrunner last night. I always liked Bourdain’s show but I knew it was TV, creating illusions – for instance, that he traveled alone. The documentary shows that, in one sense, he did.
The disconnect in the closing ceremonies for me was Johnny Weir, a man who wears the most outrageous outfits yet delivers the most banal comments. I'd prefer if it were the reverse.