The Roaring 20s

Brooklyn's Tiniest Library

Some of my favorite people happen to work at the Central Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, and I never tire of the fantastic author events they put on--like last Fall's Michael Chabon reading. And for neo-classical beauty, it doesn't get any better (check out Brownstoner's fab piece on its architecture).   

Recently, I encountered a library of a different sort.  Proteus Gowanus, a gallery and reading room, is one of the most interesting, intimate spaces in South Brooklyn.  Located on the Gowanus Canal (which recently saw action in an episode of HBO's Bored to Death), Proteus Gowanus houses art inspired by the polluted, historic canal, which--I discovered--played a key role in the Revolutionary War's Battle of Brooklyn.  The gallery also contains the Reanimation Library, a small library of curated texts: curiosities and out-of-print books on everything from Leica cameras to 1950s baking and housewifery.    

Looking at a guest book of Gowanus memories, of people from all walks of life, gave me the same feeling I get walking down Court Street in the morning, as retirees and shopkeepers mill about, bidding commuters to have a good day.  It's the comfort of community: of having an anchor in the past, and building a relationship with the place where you live.  Proteus reminded me that a great library--of any size--will do that for people, no matter what canal you call home.     

Ask a Heroine...the Elizabeth Bennet Edition

I know it's Monday and we're all either suffering from head colds or allergies...but this might perk you up! A reader sent myself, and Elizabeth Bennet, a question regarding an alltogether sticky situation of dinner party etiquette.  Read on, and check back for more Heroine's Bookshelf-inspired advice columns... 

Dear Lizzy,
As you have so much experience with dinner parties and etiquette, what would you have done in this instance?

I have two girlfriends, close in age, who move in the very same social circles. They are seemingly great friends, but one of them often leaves the other out when she sends out invitations to dinner parties and the like.

Another friend of mine is friends with both of these ladies as well, but we feel awkward when we know the other is not invited. Should we protect our friend from finding out that her "frenemy" didn't invite her, or should we be open about all our dealings in this matter? Your sage advice is greatly appreciated.

Yours,
H
 
From the desk of Elizabeth Bennet:

Dear H,
I know not what you mean by “frenemy,” but I should think that a friend so fickle is none at all. Though Duty demands you defer to the wishes of your hostess, Common Sense necessitates your wariness. Be all discretion, that is, if you can.

Yours faithfully,
Elizabeth Bennet

There you have it! For more from Lizzy, Scarlett, and Jo, be sure to check out Erin Blakemore's The Heroine's Bookshelf which hits stores, and shelves, tomorrow!

Celebrity Chekhov

It shouldn't work...but it does.  While reading Ben Greenman's new Russian lit mash-up, Celebrity Chekhov, I couldn't help reflecting on the improbability of it. Riffing on classics like "A Lady's Story," "Hush," and "The Darling," Greenman has replaced Chekhov's characters with tabloid fodder like Kim Kardashian, Tom Cruise, and Britney Spears.  It shouldn't work, and in the hands of a less-skilled writer, it probably wouldn't.  But I found myself feeling for Nicole Kidman as she was widowed again, sympathizing with a hounded Alec Baldwin, and moved as Britney and Justin confronted their former selves and shared past.  Celebrity Chekhov features nothing short of a light, deftly rendered feat of literary mechanics, in which these timeless stories gain humor and relevance without losing their poignancy.  As for how it succeeds, in  the New York Daily News, Greenman makes an astute point: celluloid celebrities are quite close to being characters anyway.  We don't know them, really, but we find ourselves forming opinions on their choices, devotedly--or reluctantly--watching the drama of their lives unfurl in something akin to a novel or a play.  There's a reason why tabloids sell so well, and perhaps it's the same mysterious element that makes Celebrity Chekhov a compelling read: we care, perhaps more than we want to.  Check out two stories from Celebrity Chekhov and see what I mean: "A Lady's Story," and "Joy." Happy reading!    

The Sexiest Banned Books

It seems like my mind is always in the gutter.  So, taking advantage of this--and in honor of Banned Books Week--here are my picks for the five sexiest classics from the ALA's list.  Remember, it's not smut--it's literature.

Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.  Coarse, filthy, and transcendent.  Or better yet: rough, masculine, naughty, and unspeakably beautiful. If I quote this one, I might get banned from the office.   

Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence.  There's no way to avoid the languid sensuality of Lawrence's writing: "Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside."

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.  Sure, the protagonist can't really have traditional intercourse...but the sense of dampened desire permeates this classic: a slow-burn. 

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.  Nabokov pulls off the ultimate tour de force, arousing his readers enough to make them wonder if they, too, are perverts like Humbert Humbert.

Ulysses by James Joyce.  Molly Bloom's soliloquy is famous for a reason.  Here's a taste: "I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

What do you think? Am I crazy? Kinky? Worse--did I miss an unmissably sexy classic?

Bukowski on his Birthday

If I had a few minutes, I could flip through any Bukowski collection on my desk and find you a great quote.  Something accessible. Something wry.  Something pained, something hilarious.  A verse that careens about the page in longing or madness, but in a diguise of plain clothes.  I could find you poetry incognito: words that move the reluctant, or anyone who complains about meter and abstractions, the detached "elitism" of poetry.  Read this:  

"there is a loneliness in the world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love."

There is a reason why we're still reading Charles Bukowski, even if Modest Mouse thinks he's an asshole.  And today, August 16th, would have been his 90th birthday.  To mark the occasion, I'm asking for your favorite Bukowski quote.  Submit one in the comments and I'll send you a complimentary copy of The Continual Condition, Ecco's latest posthumous collection (limited to the first 15).  Take a swig of whiskey and get started...

Palate cleansers, quick-reads, and a Fall preview

Remember when I called 19th century Brit-lit a guilty pleasure? Even I have limits.  Dense, unapologetically ambiguous, and rife with gender issues, Villette was the troubled, dark sister text to Bronte's Jane Eyre.  Understandably, I needed a palate cleanser or two upon completion. And so, I promptly went on a quick-reads jag.  I went through One Day in...well...one day, and now I'm nearing the end of the first Sookie Stackhouse book, Dead Until Dark.  Once I'm ready, I'll be tackling The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, and then Pushcart Prize-nominee Susan Henderson's Up from the Blue (book trailer below).  What about you? Any last-ditch summer reads?  

Fanglish 101

I didn't make it to Harvard while visiting Beantown this weekend, but this morning finds me wishing that I had.  My colleague, the awesome @dianagill, sent along word that one of our authors, Kim Harrison, is being read for English E-212 : The Vampire in Literature and Film.  Byron, True Blood, Twilight? Oh, to be an undergrad again! I would sleep til 11, then posit and theorize with the best of them in my 12 pm class.  I'd "unpack" misogyny and desire in Stephenie Meyer...I'd talk about the way in which Charlaine Harris conceptualizes the "Other," and then I'd bring it back home and talk about teen sexuality in Buffy.  But, alas, since I am indeed at the office today, I'll have to be content with my own, credit-less independent study.  Putting my nerdiness aside for a moment...what do you think--would you enroll in the class? Does an academic look at vamps suck the fun right out of it? 

Comfort Reads

I was actually going to title this post "When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Read Emma," but I thought that was a bit fey, even for me.  But let's face it, stress can make people do strange, even embarrassing things.  I saw the first Twilight movie under such circumstances, I bake when I'm frustrated, I take weekend walks along the Gowanus, and while we're at it, sometimes I drink soy milk from the carton on nights when procuring and then cleaning a fresh glass is too much effort. After some research, I've concluded that it's a particular yet imparticular variety of 20something angst-- an unnameable anxiety about our careers, our love lives, our friendships, our apartments--that makes us turn to our guilty pleasures for comfort.  For me, the complete and unequivocal cure-all is a BBC miniseries or a classic novel, complete with corsets, bustles, and English accents.  I melt away into the countryside and let the gentility, the sonorous and round syllables of a Mr. Darcy, wash away the dank heat of summer, the smell of garbage day, the train re-routes and cancellations.  So you won't be surprised when I confess that this week has been bad enough to make me turn to Charlotte Bronte's Villette and the stellar 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries starring Colin Firth.  Villette started off pretty drily, even for my taste, but after 100 patient pages, I've been entirely sucked in.  So it got me to thinking...what are your comfort reads? After all, as Mr. Darcy says, "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."

Everything Is Going to Be Great

In case you haven't heard, New York was suffused with hot air (and complaining) this past week, reaching a high of 103 degrees.  Standing next to the window in my Brooklyn apartment, I could actually feel a wave of heat against my legs.  When cold showers weren't enough of a respite, I decided that the right book--nay, the perfect book--would help cool me down.  Clearly I was suffering from heat stroke or dehydration-related delirium, because the first thing I picked up was Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway.  As I stood on line at Trader Joe's, cart full of ice pops, I realized I had been attempting to read the same page for 10 minutes.  It's a classic, yes...the writing is beautiful, yes...but I could not make it past page 28.  It was time to reconsider.  It was time to read a memoir.  Sometimes the best way of getting outside of your own head, your own body, is reading about someone else's.  Thankfully, Rachel Shukert's Everything Is Going to Be Great found its way into my hands.  Shukert's "underfunded and overexposed European grand tour" was witty enough to have me laughing on the F train, and distracting enough to make me forget all about a possible heat-wave-related blackout.  Everything Is Going to Be Great follows Shukert as she travels through Europe in her twenties, with an unstamped passport and a mission to find herself.  In the process, she loses face, dignity, a crown on her back molar, and--finally--her heart.  It's irreverent, poignant, and totally lacking in self-consciousness...as an added bonus, I truly believe this book has the power to make New York's most neurotic 20something denizens feel less unhinged by comparison.  Verdict? Everything Is Going to Be Great is like a slip 'n slide for the soul.

English 101 Reads: Brave New World

From George Orwell's 1984 to Sarah Hall's Daughters of the North, I've been known to love a good dystopian novel.  Brave New World was one of my first forays into the genre, and I was thrilled to re-read it for English 101, our Modern Classics Book Club.  10 years later, the writing is just as eloquent--just as eccentric and unique--as I remember. I mutilated my copy a bit, and took to underlining gorgeous passages like this one:

"The sultry darkness into which the students now followed him was visible and crimson, like the darkness of closed eyes on a summer's afternoon." 

Meanwhile, the repeated allusions to Shakespeare had me in heaven. Huxley was also known to admire T.S. Eliot, and nowhere is this more visible than in the third chapter of the book, which segues into multiple and separate lines of narrative: an incredible effect.  As far as the story itself, like Lauren, I feel that the key to enjoying the book in 2010 is to avoid harping on the fallacies of Huxley's predictions.  If you can treat his universe as an alternate reality (how very Lost of me), you will be rewarded.  The allegory of the book borders on the didactic, but from a philosophical perspective, Brave New World is entirely worth the read.  Huxley poses questions about happiness, conformity, sex, love, and human connection that will linger on in your mind long after the novel's close.  At the very least, you might find yourself wondering where to find soma, green velveteen viscose shorts, contraceptive belts, or scent machines.  Have you read Brave New World? Loved it, hated it, couldn't care less about it? Leave a comment, tweet with the hashtag #english101, check out Erica and Lauren's reviews, and click here for this year's schedule of modern classics.