Batty

While I was attending our neighborhood street fair in Multnomah Village with my kids and mother-in-law, a boy in the parade who was there to represent a local toy store handed me a Magic: The Gathering playing card that featured Vampire Bats. It had on it a picture of a pretty evil-looking bat flying in front of a full moon and a few game related directions that, of course, meant nothing to me. However, beneath the directions was this rather unlikely quote: "For something is amiss or out of place / When mice with wings can wear a human face." It comes from Theodore Roethke's poem "The Bat". What a delightful surprise to get a bit of fabulous poetry at such an unlikely moment--and from one of our own regional poetic superstars at that. Good on you, Magic: The Gathering. Here's the poem:

The Bat

Theodore Roethke

By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.

He likes the attic of an aging house.

His fingers make a hat about his head.

His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.

He loops in crazy figures half the night

Among the trees that face the corner light.

But when he brushes up against a screen,

We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:

For something is amiss or out of place

When mice with wings can wear a human face.

~cd

Powell’s City of Books recently added this oddity to the Pearl Room on its fourth floor: a section marked, “From the Library of Anne Rice.” You may read about it in detail here, but in a nutshell it offers several shelf-loads of books from that author’s personal collection, all for sale. The books have her personal ex libris sticker affixed inside (a simple gold rectangle the size of your thumb featuring the words “From the Library of Anne Rice” and a facsimile of her signature) and many even have call letters taped to their spines. Interestingly, most of what Powell’s offers are books which seem to be related to Rice’s recent forays into historical fiction, since almost all of them are concerned with Judaism and Christianity: theological works, historical investigations, Biblical commentaries, surveys of religious art, etc. Many of the books have her own marginalia in them, and, not surprisingly, those volumes have been priced more highly than others. All in all, it’s an impressive collection and, if Rice did in fact read them, an indication that she is a very careful, diligent, and comprehensive researcher.

     When I first encountered this collection, I was bemused by it, I suppose, but didn’t buy anything—I didn’t much see the point in owning what I've since learned is called an “association copy,” that is, a book a famous author once owned and, presumably, read. After all, I wasn’t even much of a Rice fan, although I did enjoy the first two vampire novels (the others I couldn’t finish). But after a while the idea grew on me. After about a week’s worth of hemming and hawing, I eventually picked out a 1983 paperback copy of that classic of bogus history Holy Blood, Holy Grail by Michael Baigent et al. for $6.95. The purchase was largely a lark; it was about the least expensive book in the collection (no signature, marginalia, or underlined passages) and my intention was to send it to a friend who is a fan of Rice and Dan Brown (though she admits the latter is rubbish).  Even so, when I made the purchase I couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious and silly. I couldn’t look the cashier in the eye, and I exited quickly, as if I were a 16 year-old buying his first Playboy. I felt a little dirty. Why?
     Aside from the fact that Holy Blood, Holy Grail is a monument of stupidity and that my buying it was a mark of conspicuous consumption (I'm sure the homeless fellow outside could have put that $6.95 to a better use), I guess I didn't want that cashier to think I was some dimwit fanboy who would buy such a thing solely for the reason Anne Rice once owned it! I have a number of association copies in my own library, but all of them were incidental purchases--meaning I wanted the book itself foremost, and the fact that it had been owned by a famous person, another author, or a person who was integrally associated with the book was only a secondary consideration. For, indeed, isn't the whole notion that a book is somehow more valuable because Anne Rice owned it or read it or fondled it really rather asinine? But wait--what if the book had been owned by, say, William Faulkner, bore his ex libris inside the front cover, and was a copy of, oh, Ernest Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon? Might I feel the same way? If I could easily afford it, would I buy it?
     At the end of the day, this question reminds me of those dilemmas so common in the art world: We don't really know if that is an authentic Leonardo or a copy, but by consensus the art historians believe it most likely is; therefore, the same painting that drew little attention two years ago is now hailed a masterpiece and its value has increased a thousand fold. Value is always relative; seeing is perceiving. Hamlet said it best: "For there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so."
     The same could be said of acquiring a book that once belonged to Anne Rice or just about any other famous person. As one shopper on the Powell's website put it: "[They] are a treat to read just because I know where they came from."

3 Edgars

As you can see it's a series of pictures of Edgar Allan Poe, but something funny's going on--that's his regular portrait on the left, but the pictures in the middle and to the right are altered:

The middle face is made up of two right sides pasted together and the far right face is made up of two left sides pasted together. Weird, eh? They're both recognizable as Poe, of course, but--and here my pop-culture saturated brain will steer me into a Star Trek reference--they are like the two Kirks in that one episode where he gets split into two beings by (if I remember correctly) a glitch in the transporter. You know, aggressive, but self-confident Kirk v. passive, self-critical Kirk? Middle Poe is fierce, a force to be reckoned with, and a little scary. Far-right Poe is pathetic, maudlin, and full of self-doubt. None of this really means anything, but it fits neatly into the kind of pop-psychological silliness that is often foisted upon poor Edgar.

Meh...

Toot toot!

Here's  an annoying press release from Amazon which tries to argue that the nation's "best read" cities are those who buy the most reading material from Amazon. Umm...think there might be a fallacy at work here? Is shopping for reading matter at Amazon really an indication of how well read a city's population is? Portland is 19th on the list, I see. But I know that I, as well as many other Portland residents, like to shop at Powell's City of Books and prefer to buy a book from there rather than from Amazon if I can help it. Not to mention the fact that many readers simply borrow their materials from libraries or read from free online sources. All Amazon has done here is shed light on the shopping habits of some residents of some American cities. Oh and toot their own horn a little in the process. How silly.

A Hallowe'en Read

I'm about halfway through my first Dennis Wheatley novel, To The Devil--A Daughter (1953), a rather silly (so far) but fun occult thriller. Wheatley was an English writer who lived 1897-1977 and wrote some 50+ novels, mostly thrillers like this, although he wrote crime, espionage, and historical fiction as well. Hammer studios made three of his novels into decent films: the aforementioned title, plus The Devil Rides Out and The Lost Continent (aka Uncharted Seas). The novel, so far, is a bit chatty and full of midcentury English and French stereotypes (the English are tweedy, chivalrous, and full of derring-do; the French are untrustworthy, decadent, and sensual), and everyone, hero and villain alike, is given to speechifying about the perils of socialism. Even so, like I said, it's fun if you don't take it too seriously (how could you?) and just let the story take you away to the French Riviera where, despite the fact that a young demon-possessed girl has just been smuggled aboard a yacht by Satanists determined to overthrow Western Civilisation, there's always time for a pastis, a plate of oysters, and a lecture on occult symbolism.

The book I'm reading was purchased for 30p in a cozy little bookshop in Hastings, England, called Old Town Book Centre (now no longer in existence, I'm afraid), a stone's throw from the famous Mermaid fish & chips shop (now under poor management, I'm afraid). My buying it is connected in my mind with a lovely visit to my dear, dear friends Barry and Jacque, who lived in the nearby town of Denton at the time (about ten years ago). Actually there were two books--the other was The Devil Rides Out--but it has gone missing, probably a casualty from a few months back when I did a little sell-off of unread and unwanted paperbacks from around the house. It's a shame, for according to a website I happened on the other day, they may be from a somewhat collectible series of editions. These were the Heron editions, paperbacks produced in the style of their hardback counterparts--a pseudo Morroco leather soft cover with gilded lettering and framing. (Read about them in as much tedious detail as you could ever want here.) My copy of To the Devil--A Daughter from 1972 is badly abused, unfortunately, (I think Ian had a go at it--the cover's ripped and there are teeth marks), and I believe it was for that reason it survived the purging from some months ago. Here's what it should look like:

But perhaps the most interesting thing about my book is the illustrations by French artist Michel de St. Ouen. There's only three, but they've intrigued me enough to seek him out online. It seems he's a fantasy illustrator/artist whose new-agey pictures--by turns sexy, eerie, ludicrous--have a certain mystical quality, hard to describe, that draws me in. There's some good representative images online if you do a simple Google search. Here's a site he's involved with, the Society for Art of Imagination, which features some of his pictures and those of others like him. As for my book, check these out.. As I said, by turns...

...sexy (not the Tor Johnson look-alike with the man-boobs):

 ...eerie (seriously):

 

 ...and ludicrous (does this not look like something a Twilight nerdette drew on a Pee-chee?):

But they're perfect for this kind of a book, a goofy thrill-ride. As I told K, it's like spending loads of time inside a good, full-blooded Hammer film from c.1965., and perfect for the season.

Happy Hallowe'en!
~CD

Another Recent Read

Bardot, Deneuve, Fonda: My Life with the Three Most Beautiful Women in the World. Roger Vadim. 1987.
What a guilty pleasure this was! This kiss 'n' tell by film director Roger Vadim is funnest, for me, when he's not describing bedroom antics so much as the European filmmaking environment of the 50's, 60's, and 70's. Vadim claims that he wrote this to set the record straight for his children and grandchildren--so there would be something to counter the other biographies, news-stories, and general gossip. Still, he comes across as a chauvinist whose narcissism (at times I wondered if he was even sociopathic) makes for a sick but enjoyable read (in a seedy, Eurotrashy sort of way). Best if read out loud with a thick French accent and Serge Gainsbourg's Comic Strip playing in the background. And a pack of Gaulois cigs on your bedside table. **

Here's a link to a discussion of the book and of Vadim et al. Quite an interesting site. I'll put it on my blogroll: http://www.2blowhards.com/archives/001948.html.

Au revoir,

~CD

Recent Reads

The Blunderer. Patricia Highsmith. 1956.
One of the earlier Highmiths and a decent companion, of sorts, to Strangers on a Train. It involves a wife murderer (undiscovered) and a man who "stalks" him, in a manner, and fantasizes about being a wife murderer himself. As with Strangers, the tense relationship between the two men drives the narrative into the strange, cruel world one expects in a Highsmith psychological thriller. I'll admit that I found this to be one of her lesser efforts--gripping at times, certainly, but also tediously bogged down by the main character's foibles and witless behavior. However, I always love the Highsmith "plain-style" of writing--spare prose, studded with gritty details and precise descriptions. ***

Famous Last Words. Timothy Findley. 1987.
A hugely entertaining historical fiction made up of multi-layered narratives and featuring an impressive cast of characters (including Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, Edward VIII, Wallis Simpson, von Ribbentrop, Charles Lindbergh, Hitler, and Rudolph Hess). The plot concerns the rise of Italian and German fascism and the various fascist sympathizers in European high society. What's more, Findley throws in a cabal of behind the scenes Euro power-brokers who go by the codename "Penelope," a kind of Priory of Sion who plans to use the fascists as a scourge to scrub Europe clean before setting up their own pan-European Emporer and Empress--the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Most of the story is told from the point of view of Hugh Selwyn Mauberley--Ezra Pound's fictional character (here a real guy: a wonderful move!), a fascist sympathizer who turns against "Penelope" and pays the consequences. All in all, a real tour de force. ***1/2


Solar. Ian McEwan. 2010.
McEwan's latest about a Nobel Prize winning physicist who plagiarizes from a newly dead protege to keep himself relevant. The story follows his tumultuous love-affairs (five wives and countless lovers) and his rotten business dealings and pathetic post-Nobel professional life. He's a rotter in almost every respect--selfish, hypocritical, cruel, and amoral. He outdoes himself when he frames one of his wife's lovers for the murder of another of his wife's lovers! Yes, this is a comedy--and at some points it is laugh outloud funny--but it's hard to spend time with this character and not feel a little slimy yourself. As usual, however, McEwan's writing is flawless. What does it mean that you keep reading simply because the book is so well-written? ***

August Round-up

A round-up of bloggolicious things that have gone down lately:

Saw the B-52's at the zoo on August 13th. We sat on blankets on the lawn waaay in the back. We occasionally caught glimpses of the band. Ian and his friend Jackson (and his parents) were all on hand. We had a moderately good time. The band played more of their latter-day offerings than the stuff I was familiar with, that is, the first couple albums. But it was definitely fun to hear "Planet Claire," "Rock Lobster," and "Private Idaho" live. I can also now check-off the list another band I never had the chance to see in their prime. (Along with The English Beat, Squeeze, and The Knitters.)

Discovered the 19th century Brazilian writer Machado de Assis. The proprietor of Post-Hip CD's (and Books) in Multnomah Village gave a me a copy of Dom Casmurro for free, telling me I simply had to read it. I loved it and read Epitaph for a Small Winner soon after. Great tragicomedy of the Flaubertian variety, with a strong dash of Laurence Sterne. How did I grow up not knowing this writer? I can see a little more clearly now where some of the 20th century South American writers drew their inspiration.

On Aug. 22 I went up to Lake Coeur d'Alene for, probably, the last time this season. Met my brother Scott and my poet friend Tod Marshall (see "You Should Know About" for details) for a day of fishing in CDA, Lake Chatcolet, and up the St. Joe river a bit. Caught a fair number of Kokanee (land-locked sockeye salmon) and a few pan-fish. Scott smoked the Kokanee and, boy, were they good on a bagel with cream-cheese. Here's some pics.

Beautiful Rockford Bay, Lake Coeur d'Alene:

Our trusty fishing boat:

A moose chomping on reeds at the mouth of the St. Joe River at Lake Chatcolet:

Our harvest: smoked Kokanee. Note the bagel. Note the coffee cup: it's been in the family for nearly fifty years.

Alas, September is now here, and with it come late summer rains. Sniff.

But here's something perfect: Alan Greenspan's reaction in an interview to a question asking if Stan Getz playing sax at the age of 15 was really so good as to discourage Greenspan from seeking a career as a jazz musician:

"Oh, my God."

Here's the link to the fascinating little curio I found that in: http://www.stangetz.net/world_financial_crisis.htm

~CD

The Wild Boy

Several posts ago, I featured a children's book version of Beauty and the Beast retold and illustrated by Mordicai Gerstein. Some days ago, I ordered a copy of another book written and illustrated by him called The Wild Boy (1998), a retelling of the story of Victor, the wild boy of Aveyron. It has arrived and is as marvelous as I had hoped it would be. Here's a taste:

The frenzied energy of the drawings, their emotional wallop, and their essential grasp of the story's mystery draw me to this book. These stories of people who are confused with animals--psychically, spiritually, or physically--always fascinate me. (The Elephant Man, Raging Bull, The Wolfman, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Lycaeus, the Yeti, etc.) If you've got a kid who's between 2 and 5, get this little book. It won't disappoint.

~CD

Three is a Charm

Three cool things have gone down lately:

(1) Ian saw his first movie in a movie theater! That's right, at the ripe old age of 2 and 11 mos. We caught a matinee last Saturday of Toy Story 3 (in 2D) and he loved it. Sat through it entranced, and with hardly a moment's fidgeting. Had his first taste of movie theatre popcorn, too. G'ma was there to document the occasion with photos. Luckily there was only a handful of people in the theatre to be annoyed with the flash (we waited until the credits.) I loved the film, by the way. The ending packs a surprisingly emotional punch. ****

(2) I stopped in at the Portland Art Museum's exhibit featuring R. Crumb's comic book rendering of The Book of Genesis. What a mindboggling work that is. The most fascinating thing is he depicts it with (as you would expect) unflinching honesty and without the faintest touch of ridicule. I know there will be loud detractors from every critical vantage point on this, but I for one found it mesmerizing--even awesome. The scope and ambition of the project and Crumb's integrity are impressive. Go and see this. Every page of Crumb's book is framed and on the wall, and every word of every chapter of Genesis is there to read. And while you're there, go to the basement and see the masters' drawings exhibit. Ingres, Rembrandt, Durer...can't do better than that.

(3) Had lunch with K at Creme de la Creme, a French food cart fashioned from an old school bus, parked up in an alley near 33rd and Hawthorne. It's connected to a Seattle restaurant/bar called Gainsbourg, run by an old Spokane acquaintance of mine JJ Wandler. K had a brie and cucumber sandwich and I had a yummy croque monsieur. Check them out sometime.

Here's a taste of Crumb's Genesis work: http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/10/18/arts/20091018-SALK_index.html

& here's his official website:http://www.crumbproducts.com/

Here's Creme de la Creme's Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Portland-OR/Creme-de-la-Creme/119698068062042#!

And here you can explore other facets of the Portland Art Museum: http://portlandartmuseum.org/

~CD

A Little Dylan Thomas

I read "Fern Hill" aloud to my literature students today and nearly burst into tears. More proof that as we get older and our life experiences change and evolve, our relationships to works of art change too. You know, you may have read "Fern Hill" dozens of times in your life, and you may think you know it, but that's not how poetry works. What you knew two years ago about the poem and the world is not the same as what you now know. There's no "been there done that" (bleh) for great art. It's always there offering you something new if you care to look.

So...here, look again: http://sss-mag.com/fernhill/poem.html

Or, if you like, have a listen:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XG1B_7r4y8

Enjoy.

~CD

Look at what I found!

An ordinary 1837 volume from the collected works of Samuel Johnson, bought at a fundraiser book sale at my college for about a dollar. Ho hum...

But...but...look! While flipping though the pages I found a letter!

It's from a London law office and was penned in 1864!

And here is what it says:

5 Grays Inn Square

14th Sept. 1864

Dear Sir;

Yourself ~ Nash

Mr. Johnson is out of town but

is expected back in a day or two

when he will see Mr. Thistlethwaite

and come to some arrangement

with him if possible.

Yours Truly,

S.W. Johnson

per [CL?] Osborne

[unclear] [unclear]

Ridgway Villa

Torquay

Fabulously exciting I know. I investigated on the Net a little and found a lawyer named Saffery William Johnson operating at 5 Grays Inn Square in the 1850s-70s, part of the firm of Johnson and Coote. The Osborne writing the note must have been a clerk for Johnson (perhaps the CL that seems to be in front of his name indicates this); Nash, the note's apparent recipient who lived in Torquay, I have not nailed down. Was the copy of Johnson's works owned by Nash? It seems likely. What fun!

CD

Beauty and the Beast continued...

Some days ago I mentioned watching a short animated film of "Beauty and the Beast" (1989) with Mia Farrow narrating. I sent for the book version, illustrations by Mordicai Gerstein (the same man who supplied the images for the film). I quite like the book and here are some snaps of some of the art work (fuzziness due to a dirty lens!):

Beauty gazing at the Beast's symbolic birdcage:

A stand alone image from the book's front matter of the Beast brow-beating Beauty. I especially like the conception of the Beast--ram's horns, boar's face, monkey's body (and tail), ostrich's feet:

Details of Beast's palace--octopus chandeliers!

Fantastical beasts are everywhere in the decor, by the way. And here's the most marvelous of all: a horned sperm whale with wings and human legs.

Ian loves the story, too, which delights me no end. One of these days he'll see the Cocteau film and, here's hoping, a whole new world will open up to him. But if not, that's cool too.

CD

Who can play Kesey?

A few weeks ago my good friend Lynn Jeffress sent me a link to an article discussing the possibility of Gus Van Sant producing or directing a film based on Tom Wolfe's "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test." In the article there is speculation on who might play Ken Kesey. Jack Black's name came up, but I must say, as much as I like him, he doesn't strike me as a good Kesey. But that leads me to wonder, who would make a good Kesey? Here's my short list:

1. Matthew McConaughey
2. Woody Harrelson
3. Jude Law (if he'd be willing to bulk up)
4. That guy from "I Love You Man"--Jason Segal

(Sorry, Will Farrell!)

Here's a link to the article, and be sure and notice the accompanying picture of Kesey et al. aboard Furthur II. Guess who that is shivering under the orange blanket in back? And guess whose arm that is, clad in blue and white?

http://moviesblog.mtv.com/2009/01/15/gus-van-sant-talks-electric-kool-aid-acid-test-casting-from-heath-ledger-to-jack-black/

That picture, as my friend has said, "really gets around". If I'm not mistaken, it was taken by Pulitzer prize winning photographer Brian Lanker around 1991 for a calendar Kesey was putting together. Here's a better view:



Cheers, everyone!
CD

Fair is Fowl(er)

Found this article on the new edition of Fowler's Modern English Usage, a book I adore. http://www.hoover.org/publications/policyreview/72770362.html I completely agree with the reviewer, Liam Julian (what a pretty name!), on his take on what makes Fowler so readable and charming. My favorite bit:

"Fowler also saw no problem in placing and or but at the start of a sentence, nor in plopping a preposition at its end. While he could get hooked by crotchets — objecting to amoral, for instance, on the grounds that it was an ungainly combination of a Greek prefix and a Latin derivative — he was generally practical in his rule-making and rule-breaking. His abiding hope was to promote production of precise and pleasurable sentences, and if old prejudices stood in the way of that goal, they were knocked aside. David Crystal, editor of the rereleased first edition, writes that Fowler 'turns out to be far more sophisticated in his analysis of language than most people realize.' What’s more, 'Several of his entries display a concern for descriptive accuracy which would do any modern linguist proud.'"

CD

Round Up

David Oates shared bits of his new book, What We Love Will Save Us, yesterday in the Cannell Room at Clark College's library. It was a pleasant hour of reading and discussion and I was glad to see him sell a few copies of the book. He took the odd turn of publishing it himself under his own imprint--Kelson Books--after several publishing houses rejected it. He felt the timeliness of the material warranted an immediate release: it deals largely with the effects of the Bush administration's brutality, narrow-mindedness, and criminality on the imaginative mind. But the experience of publishing has enthused David so much that Kelson Books is now working on releasing more titles. I'm eager to see what comes next.

Other news: Last week's whirlwind trip up to North Idaho to close down the lake cabin for the winter, though largely a chore, took us briefly through Spokane where we visited two new establishments that I can highly recommend:

First is Atticus, a coffeeshop and store located on Howard St. downtown (Bennett Block) in the space that has housed coffeeshops since time immemorial. It's owned and run by Kris and Andy Dinnison who also own and run Boo Radley's, a shop full of toys, books, games, and curios two doors down. I know Kris and Andy from way back when and I'm very happy to see them embark on a new project that so benefits downtown Spokaloo. Their dedication and devotion to Spokane is admirable. They poured me a great cuppa Joe too. Come for the coffee, stay to read the wallpaper: The entirety of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird is pasted up on one wall!

Second is Madeleine's Cafe and Patisserie at 707 West Main, about two blocks away from Atticus. Our good friends Tod Marshall and Amy Sinnisterra recommended it for breakfast and it did not disappoint. I had french toast topped with whipped cream and berries (shared..no, GAVE them to Ian) and K had, if memory serves, something with cinnamon and apples piled on it. I need to return and explore their menu further. Here's their very attractive website: http://www.madeleines-spokane.com/ Koehler said he wants to make a Spokane North Idaho excursion down memory lane sometime this summer and I want to tag along. Maybe then, eh?

Speaking of Koehler, here's a link to his site and some pics from his book tour. The hand holding the mug of coffee is, predictably, yours truly: http://jeff-koehler.com/?p=286. The pear painting is mine too.

CD

Let me toss this on here for good measure

The Columbia Writers Series Presents
Author and Clark College English Professor

David Oates

~ FREE: Thursday, November 19th, 12:00 noon, in the Cannell Room of Clark College’s Cannell Library

David Oates will read from and discuss SteelHead, a work in progress that presents the life story of Ranald “Tole” MacDonald, a half-Chinook, half-Scot adventurer who, in 1848, smuggled himself into still-closed Japan – years ahead of Commodore Perry's famous gunship "opening." From Fort Vancouver MacDonald had travelled halfway around the world searching for what he imagined was the racial/ancestral home of his own, vanishing, Chinook people. Welcomed, but imprisoned in Nagasaki, MacDonald taught fourteen of the Emperor's best scholars, so that Perry later found himself greeted by English-speaking Japanese – MacDonald's students.

In addition, Oates will be reading from his latest book, What We Love Will Save Us. In this collection of brief, intense lyrical essays, Oates finds wildness and grace breaking out in unexpected places – from city streets to mountain peaks – offering a crucial balance to his dramatically personal account of what it has been like to be a "citizen of the regime" during eight years of unprecedented propaganda, torture, waste, and war. What is the right response, when the government that belongs to us goes seriously off course? How does a person's private and creative life relate to the life we share in common? Readable, memorable, smart but straight from the heart – these essays give voice to our shared experience of a dark and frustrating time in the nation's life. This book is about keeping faith and experiencing darkness:

There's a random dangerous rightness abroad in this wide shining world. It's a rightness, not a correctness. We don't need so much to counter other people's errors as to bring the light and joy of that right and beautiful world: what we desire for our planet and ourselves. What we are doing instead of hating and denying and bombing.
Our job is to work on what we love. Daily. With precision and determination.

~About the author:
David Oates writes nonfiction and poetry about urban life and the natural world. Most recently he explored the urban experience in City Limits: Walking Portland's Boundary. In his ground-breaking book Paradise Wild: Reimagining American Nature he challenged environmental sacred cows. His personal essays are widely read in newspapers, through Writers on the Range Syndicate, and in popular, environmental, and scholarly periodicals, including Creative Nonfiction, Earth Island Journal, Orion (forthcoming), High Country News, Northern Lights, etc. In Portland he teaches the Wild Writers Seminar and writing courses at Clark College, Marylhurst University, and (starting in Summer of 2010) Pacific Northwest College of Art.
Author's website: http://www.davidoates.info/.

~Praise from advance readers:
"What We Love Will Save Us is a journey. David Oates knows what kind of place he’s looking for—a place for hope and truth, imagination and renewal. What We Love Will Save Us is. . . compact and expansive, erudite and carnal, playful and angry and full of subjunctive dreaming and inescapable facts."
– Ana Maria Spagna, author of Test Ride on the Sunnyland Bus: a Daughter's Civil Rights Journey and Now Go Home: Wilderness, Belonging, and the Crosscut Saw.

"Personal honesty, humor, zinger endings. . . This is a stirring, creative collection of essays stoked with ideas, some of them urgently of our time and place, some timeless. People with regard for language will reread passages for their genuinely beautiful writing. I got a lump in my throat (and had to take a walk) after I read the final six words: 'Brief lists, perseverance, and long vistas.' AMEN. A mantra for our century."
– Jeff Gersh, founder and principal of NarrativeLab Communications

"There is a tightly wound lyricism to these very American essays, crafted out of bumps and bruises and sheer joys. David Oates is a writer companion you'll want to have as you hike across this beleaguered planet – testy on the switchbacks but more than congenial around the fire; at the end of the day, he always chooses the best campsite."
– Paul J. Willis, author of Bright Shoots of Everlastingness: Essays on Faith and the American Wild.

What Cheer, My Love?

A strange synchronicity occured yesterday that is worth musing over here. I'm fascinated by the little moment in 1.1.122 of A Midsummer Night's Dream when Theseus, having stood behind Egeus' stupidly selfish decision to force his daughter Hermia to marry Demetrius or "die the death", says to his bride-to-be, Hippolyta, "What cheer, my love?" From the script we have no idea what he's responding to, but most directors make Hippolyta quite upset with Theseus over his standing up for the "law" rather than "justice". Presumably she is pouting or fuming or sighing or drooping or all of the above.

But as my thoughts were thus directed, I came upon the little crumb of poetic wit sent to me by Kate Scrivener and included in yesterday's post. I did a quick search of David McCord and found out what I thought was his pseudonym: "What Cheer"! This spurred me to wiki him and find related links. I looked up What Cheer but found no reference to McCord. I then Googled his real name and found that What Cheer was, in fact, the title of a volume of his poetry. Oops. (but wouldn't make a great pseudonym? Squirrel that away for safe keeping.)

But the wiki entry on What Cheer turned up this gorgeous bit of folksy numbskullery (I've found that if Wikp is good for anything it's as a kind of vast e-version of "Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable"--a treasure house of the bogus):

"What Cheer (pronounced 'WAH-cheer') is a city in Keokuk County, Iowa, United States. The population was 678 at the 2000 census.

"What Cheer is named for a Native American greeting used in the area of modern-day Rhode Island during the 1600s. In 1636, Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island who left Salem, Massachusetts to seek religious freedom, landed at modern-day Providence and was greeted by Narragansett Native Americans with "What Cheer, Netop". Netop was the Narragansett word for friend, and What Cheer was an old English greeting brought to New England by English settlers. Over time, the story of Williams' welcome was absorbed into the legend of Providence.
When the future What Cheer was founded, it was named Petersburg for Peter Britton, the settlement's founder. The What Cheer story and name was brought to Iowa by Joseph Andrews, a major and veteran of the American Civil War in 1864. Andrews was a native of Providence and offered the name of What Cheer for a post office in the town in 1866. Petersburg was officially renamed What Cheer on December 1, 1879."

CD

What cheer

This from my colleague and dear friend Kate Scrivener; she in turn quoting her dear departed mother Mildred Lucele Grotbek, who is quoting American poet David McCord (Portland native, btw):

“The decent docent doesn’t doze – she teaches standing on her toes.
The student dasn’t doze, but does – so teaching is and always was.”

CD

Wordstock

I attended the final two hours of the Wordstock festival last Sunday at Portland's Convention Center. There seemed to be fewer booths this year and fewer interesting ones (it's the economy, stupid!) and thus I was a little bummed. I did get to see the back of Sherman Alexie's head as he signed books for folks, and then I poked into the finish of the Shawn Levy reading--enjoying his Q&A session wherein he answered questions about his new biography of Paul Newman. What I was there for mostly, however, was Paul Collins' reading/presentation from his new book, The Book of William: How Shakespeare's First Folio Conquered the World. He read some entertaining passages, told us some fun stories about his research process and some juicy tidbits about the world of Folio collecting, rare book auctions, and publishing in WS's day. Afterwards, I shook his hand and told him I was the emailer who invited him a couple days ago to Clark College for a reading in Feb. "Stalker!" he cried. "Help! Help! Police! This man has been sending me harassing emails and now he's here to steal my life! He claims that I'm living the life that was meant for HIM!: writing books which explore the obscure corners of the literary world and the lives of oddball characters from history, talking about antiquarian books on NPR, teaching at a Portland university, writing regularly for McSweeney's, and editing the Paul Collins library of rare and out of print books for them! Arrest him at once! Help!" Of course, it was minutes before the festival was closing and there was no one around to hear the muffled cries...

CD