Archives for December 6, 2003

I just received in the mail the Spring 2004 catalogue of Yale University Press. I opened it to page 35, where I found (drumroll) A Terry Teachout Reader, complete with a thumbnail photo of the dust jacket, whose centerpiece is a reproduction of Fairfield Porter’s lithograph Broadway.

I can already see one problem with the Reader, which is that Yale has placed it under the category “Music/Essays,” which is right and not right at the same time. Yes, music figures prominently in it, but so do lots and lots of other things.

Here’s the flap copy, which I didn’t write:

Terry Teachout, one of our most acute cultural commentators, here turns his sharp eye to every corner of the arts world–music, dance, literature, theater, film, TV, and the visual arts. This collection gathers the best of Teachout’s writings from the past fifteen years. In each essay he offers lucid and balanced judgments that invariably illuminate, sometimes infuriate, and always spark a response–the mark of a critic whose thoughts, however controversial, cannot be ignored.

In a thoughtful introduction to the book, Teachout considers how American culture of the twenty-first century differs from that of the last century and how the information age has altered popular culture. His selected essays chronicle America’s cultural journeyover the past decade and a half,a nd they show us what has been lost–and gained–along the way. With highly informed opinions, an inimitable wit and style, and a genuine devotion to all things cultural, Teachout offers his readers much to delight in and much to ponder.

Anyone who comes from a small Midwestern town is genetically programmed to squirm at the prospect of seeing such effusive words emblazoned on his own dust jacket, but publishing is a business, and a boy, as Truman Capote once said, must peddle his book. At any rate, I’m proud of the Teachout Reader, and to see it in the Yale catalogue is a comfort on a cold, snowy day.

The Teachout Reader will be published in May–posthumously, if I become the first author ever to succumb to the common cold. Otherwise, I’ll be reminding you of its insidious approach, and as of today, you can pre-order it from amazon.com by clicking here.

I rise from my bed of discomfort (my cold is worse, it’s snowing again, and I have a preview tonight) to remind you of what you should already know, which is that my most recent book, The Skeptic: A Life of H.L. Mencken, is now out in trade paperback–and still available in hardcover.

If you like this blog, you’ll like The Skeptic, and so will your friends. So did the critics: the reviews were spectacularly warm, as you can see for yourself by going here.

I blog for pleasure but write to pay the rent. If you’d like to support both causes, think about giving The Skeptic for Christmas, or buying a copy for yourself if you don’t already own one.

To purchase the paperback, click here.

To purchase the hardcover edition, click here.

Now I need to go blow my nose.

Here’s just a quick Saturday evening post while my weekend guests–you know them as Cinetrix and the ‘Fesser–have popped out to see some other friends in the ‘hood. I expect them back in a little while with some Ribs ‘n’ Bibs; a good, greasy time will be had by all.

I know I’ve been scarce around these parts since before Thanksgiving. This was in large part because I was consumed with worry on behalf of the resident cat, Daffy, who had tentatively been diagnosed with a serious heart problem. She had an ultrasound yesterday, though, that revealed a normal, healthy heart. Relief all around.

Next week should be better. I have plans, including an interview with a young filmmaker (and friend of About Last Night) who just had his first film selected for the Sundance Film Festival, in the documentary category. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, all good wishes to poor Terry with his headcold and blizzard. Terr, we’ll call you tomorrow! Hang in there with the Theraflu and DVDs! (Hm, this could be the perfect opportunity for you to watch L’Atalante! I promise you’ll adore it!)

New York is covered with fifty feet of snow. (That’s what it looks like from my window, anyway.) My throbbing head is full of some unmentionable goo. I’m not going to the press preview I was supposed to cover tonight, for fear of being found in a snowdrift weeks from now. I may never post again.

And how’s by you, OGIC?