James Joyce, Maya Angelou and Salman Rushdie make Radar magazine's Overrated Hall of Fame. Such daring choices. Saul Bellow, Norman Mailer and Ernest Hemingway weren't available? Inevitably, on a list that includes "Breast implants" -- sorry, they're never out of fashion -- "Andy Warhol" and "British accents," the last item is "Halls of fame." Ah yes, strained, self-referential irony is so overrated, isn't it.
Conan Doyle scrupulously kept his adulterous affair out of his diaries and his son burned the couple's letters in 1940. The relationship -- partly detailed in Julian Barnes' Arthur & George -- could have destroyed the reputation of Sherlock Holmes' creator. Arthur Lycett, author of a new Conan Doyle biography due in December, reveals how he sussed out the details.
When it comes to Hollywood's attempts to depict writers onscreen, book/daddy has always preferred John Goodman's line from Barton Fink, said while pumping a shotgun: "I'll show you the life of the mind!" Inspired (or repulsed) by David Duchovny's sex-mad burnout writer in Californication, Matt Thorne provides a quick survey of and commentary on recent screen versions of writers, improbably preferring Naked Lunch, David Cronenberg's most sexless movie and therefore bad Burroughs, while overlooking Adaptation. But I confess I'd completely forgotten Throw Momma from the Train:
"In Danny DeVito's Throw Momma from the Train (1987), Billy Crystal played a blocked novelist who could get no further in his novel than "The night was..." and had to explain to one of his students why "100 Girls I'd Like to Pork" was a bad idea for a coffee-table book. In a throwaway joke, the published book could later be glimpsed on Crystal's desk."
Posted by jweeks at September 15, 2007 7:35 PM
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I think "Julia" did the best job at least of the writing process. Then there's the contrived movie trick used in "Stranger Than Fiction" where the person's life mirrors the writer's efforts.
Posted by: Yur Bro at September 17, 2007 2:15 PM
Angelou and Rushdie, fine. But Joyce?? Are you sure Radar wasn't thinking of Joyce Kilmer?
Posted by: Bill M. at September 17, 2007 5:36 PM
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A professional critic for more than two decades, Jerome Weeks is the arts producer-reporter for KERA, the NPR/PBS station for Dallas-Fort Worth. Before that, he was the theater critic and then the book columnist for The Dallas Morning News ...
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Book/daddy's site ponders writing from papyrus to paper to pixels -- with occasional forays into vellum.
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In Life Class, Booker Prize-winner Pat Barker returns to World War I, the setting for her magnificent Restoration trilogy. Where those novels followed shell-shocked poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfrid Owen through their convalescence and return to combat, Life Class follows three painting students (based on real Slade School artists Christopher Nevinson and Paul Nash) as the war approaches and they avoid it or embrace it. Elinor wants little to do with the war or with men: They're distractions from her art. Kit, a hot, young futurist, is primed for the war's industrialized destruction, while Paul flees his working-class background. As usual with Barker, the sexual relationships and war-time atmosphere (and gruesome battlefield details) are brilliantly conveyed: Her prose is lean but lyrical, compassionate yet cool-headed. No character is quite as compelling as Regeneration's bitter bisexual, Billy Prior, but the Great War's upheavals in art and combat, sex and class, provide Barker with material for truly exceptional historical novels. A new trilogy? One hopes so. Not what I expected. Trespass begins so tense and almost violent, it seems it'll be a coolly-controlled literary thriller, something akin to Patricia Highsmith. The college son of an American couple -- the dad's a historian, the mom's a book illustrator -- brings home his unsettling new girlfriend, a beautiful, chilly Croatian. Mom disapproves, and her suspicions spark angrily when the young woman becomes pregnant and the two marry. Then there's the armed poacher wandering around shooting rabbits illegally on their land. Behind all this is Bush's duplicitous run-up to the Iraq War, and you can see the many ways the title plays out. But Trespass pivots in unexpected, perhaps too convenient ways. If the ending is too peaceful for what preceded it, Valerie Martin is still such a sharp, gripping writer, the novel captivated me.
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