As you probably already know, Bobby Jindal, the new governor of Louisiana, is the current favorite for McCain's VP slot.

The Wall Street Journal has a quick hit about Jindal on their politics blog: Jindal is Catholic, a second-generation Indian immigrant, opposed to abortion always and everywhere, into intelligent design and chemical castration, and wrote a story claiming to have participated in an exorcism.

Basically, he's my nightmare.

Since McCain has assumed the miter and rod of the Republican nomination, I've had a delicious fantasy playing out in my head: That McCain, in trying to purge himself of the Bush legacy (as well as wreak a revenge he's been plotting for eight long, painful years) would finally throw the evangelicals off the train.

That he'd put out a call to angry Goldwater conservatives, classical conservatives, and isolationist-minded moderates who are disgusted with the heavy spending, foreign entanglements, and social conservatism of the last eight years.

Healthy, classical conservatism is an important part of any country's conversation with itself, but the evangelicals are perverse, willfully obtuse, destructive, blah blah blah. They've hijacked the Republican Party. And maybe McCain's the man to punch 'em in the eye and take back the wheel.

Of course, I want McCain to lose. But I want a Roman bloodbath in the process that purges Dobson, et al. from the body politic. It's a revenge story out of Shakespeare, or Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and I want to watch it go down.

But this Jindal guy, with his charismatic Catholicism, is starting to derail my hopes and dreams.

ANYWAY.

I wanted to read his 1994 exorcism story at the New Oxford Review, but it lives behind a $1.50 firewall. So, for the good of the nation, I paid the $1.50 and posted chunks of it below the jump. (The whole thing is over 5,000 words long—for an account of an exorcism, it's painfully plodding.)

It's called Beating a Demon: Physical Dimensions of Spiritual Warfare.

Highlights include: His tortured sexual tension with the possessed woman ("we had been very careful to avoid any form of physical contact in our friendship"), her freaking out ("Over and over, she repeated "Jesus is L..L..LL," often ending in profanities"), and theories as to how she came to be possessed in the first place ("Susan's roommate, the daughter of a Hmong faith healer, had decorated the room with supposedly pagan influences... Susan, who had experienced visions and other related phenomena as a child, thought her intense flirting with guys and straying away from God had led to this punishment").

When in doubt, blame the Hmong. Or sex. Or both.

Enjoy.

Continue reading "Shout at the Devil" »

Galleycat says that, due to cutbacks, the Tribune Company might cut the books sections of a number of papers that it owns. And also the Newark Star-Ledger has killed its Sunday books section, with occasional space provided from now on for a book review or two. No doubt the reviews published will be of local books that are completely uninteresting to everyone but overworked arts editors. This is great news.

Also, this is only related in that it's about books, but today The New York Times covered a $130 ebook reader (The miBook, it's called) with a color display that also plays music and works as an organizer. This is probably closer to what an ebook reader will wind up being: multimedia, but still book-y.

Bookshelves of Doom has links to two amazing blogs. One is a Live Journal collection of things that are written in the margins of used books. A recent example:

This was in a copy of Inherit the Wind that I checked out of the public library a few years ago; I had this margin note typed up on my computer along with Mencken quotes:

Do you have a problem and no one else can help, and you want revenge, contact us at: Ateam4life@hotmail.com

And no, I've never tried to contact them.

And BoD also links to The Book Inscriptions Project, which runs scans of inscriptions found in books. As an example, found in a copy of Hardball by Chris Matthews:

I've always been terrified that inscribed books that I've sold would wind up on something like this blog. There a few notes from exes that I've tried to black out before donating to Goodwill, but I'm almost afraid that blacking it out would just cause whoever bought the book to pay even more attention to it. And I can't bring myself to tear the page out or throw the book away. I'm generally against inscribing books, for just this reason. But I'm sure glad that other people do, so that I can read them.

I know that you had plans, but the Hugo House is hosting Seattle Haiku Night tonight. I hope your friends won't mind so much when you cancel on them—perhaps you can even bring them along. I was very much into writing joke haiku (it was a nice way to spend long, boring hours at a retail job) until I heard a Budweiser commercial that was done entirely in haiku. Then, I figured it was time to put the age-old art back to bed for a while.

At noon, at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, Barbara Pope, who is a professor of gender studies, signs from her book Cezanne's Quarry, which is a mystery that involves the role of women in 19th century France. Frankly, this sounds like an ingenious way to get people who otherwise wouldn't give a damn to read a gender studies text.

Speaking of painters: up at Third Place Books, Mary Lou Sanelli reads from her collection of poetry, Small Talk, which is a book that was inspired by a painting about a group of women talking. Somehow, a book of poetry with a hook like that is much more likely to be interesting to me. It's kind of like Jay-Z's American Gangster album in that way. If Sanelli's next book is inspired by American Gangster, I will be sure to be in attendance.

And at Elliott Bay Book Company, Tom Spanbauer is in attendance. This is a great reading for Pride weekend, as many of the more book-happy gay people I know get all misty when they talk about reading Spanbauer for the first time. He's apparently also a great teacher, too, and so he should give a great reading. He'll be reading from Faraway Places, which was his first novel. It's been out of print for a good long while and is just now being reissued.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, can be found on our books page.

On this day, 60 years ago, The New Yorker published "The Lottery," by Shirley Jackson.

People flipped the fuck out—cancelled subscriptions, wrote bags of hate mail. The story was banned outright in South Africa and, according to Wikipedia, ranked seventeenth on Playboy's list of books most banned by public high schools in the U.S.

It's still one of my most vivid reading memories. I was sitting in a classroom in Lexington, Massachusetts (I must've been in fifth or sixth grade), in one of those old desks where the hard-plastic writing surface is attached to the chair by a metal bar on the right-hand side. The bar, for some reason, was always chilly.

It was reading time and, having brought nothing to read, pulled an oversized, hardback anthology of short stories off the shelf in the back of the classroom. I read it lazily, only halfway paying attention, until the last two paragraphs, which made me feel funny inside—nauseated and a little afraid. I had, at that time, never read anything that had changed my emotional weather so quickly and thoroughly.

Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn`t fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

"It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

Still making me feel funny, after all these years.

Happy birthday, "The Lottery."

Maud Newton links to this really neat New Zealand website that hides short stories and poems by authors like Dickinson, Twain, and Fitzgerald in Microsoft-looking documents so that you can read at work without fear of being fired. I'm actually fond of the way that some of these pages look; there is a bullet point presentation of Tolstoy that works quite well.

Zoomii seems to be an interface that makes Amazon look like a giant bookstore. It's actually pretty neat, and it removes one of my major complaints about Amazon: the fact that there's no random discovery. By having all the covers next to each other, there's more of randomness at play in the process of looking a book up. When I look up a book on Amazon, the last thing I want to see is another book that's more of the same, but that's all that they offer.

But then, since 90% of all books are crap*, that kind of makes the Zoomii search frustrating, too. Just like a real bookstore!

Continue reading "Pretty (Useless)" »

During the Great Blackout of Aught-eight, I did, in fact, read poetry aloud. I've got shelves packed with books here in the office and skinny little poetry books often get lost in the jumble. As soon as our computers lost power, I started picking out the narrow books and reading bits aloud.

The first poetry collection I grabbed was Mark Svenvold's Empire Burlesque. There is a poem called "I Recall Being Beautifully Stoned," subtitled "Seattle 1993," and it's about a failed suicide attempt and hitchhiking and being picked up by Ezra Pound in drag. Here's one bit:

"She stopped for me, said, "Get in," lit a joint, said: "The perfect BLOW-JOB'S every man's true EL DORADO— Don't let anyone tell you different."

and it ends:

—"What is this place?" Pound said, at last. —"North 85th and Greenwood," I said, helpfully.

—"No, no," with a sweep of his hand
That took in the Piggly Wiggly & the strip northward
clear to Canada
—"No," he said again. "I mean THIS!?"

I turned the page and there was a poem called "White Pages" that was about King Kong. This part was the real genius bit:

Terrible, lusting, big-fingered Kong,/crushed, bereft, knowing it's all wrong—

Then I abandoned Empire Burlesque and picked up City of Corners, by John Godfrey. I only read one poem from that, called "Across the Way," and its last stanza was something else again:

Full-term rotundity/in steamy daylight/Her posture:/Magnificent

But then I picked up a book called Wideawake Field by Eliza Griswold. There were some bad poems, there, but there were also some good ones. The thing about good poems is you have to read all of them to get why they're good poems. And so I sat quietly and read it until the lights and Information Superhighway came back on, at which point I immediately forgot about poetry and fired up some porn.

Two open mics, a mystery starring "travel writer Poke Rafferty, his girlfriend Rose and adopted daughter Miaow," and three other events going on tonight.

At Third Place Books, The Junie B. Jones® Stupid Smelly Bus Tour pulls into Lake Forest Park. Junie B. Jones® is a character starring in a series of books for first-to-third graders. I can't help but think that Junie B. Jones® is a Ramona Quimby rip-off, only a lot more obsessed with bodily fluids and the like. Considering that Ramona Quimby was one of my childhood heroes, I can't help but be all "get off my lawn" to the Junie B. Jones® fans.

At Town Hall, Andre Dubus III reads from his newest, The Garden of Last Days. (I know that Mr. Poe is excited for this one.) Jonathan Crimmins reviewed TGoLD for us in this week's paper. It begins:

Those who have read Andre Dubus III's House of Sand and Fog will find themselves in familiar territory with his second novel. Once again there's a hard-luck lady, once again a good-hearted violence-prone schlep, and once again a Middle-Eastern man as the ripped-from-the-headlines hook.

And, at Elliott Bay Book Company, there's another interesting fiction reading. Jonathan Miles, the cocktails columnist for the New York Times, reads from his debut novel, Dear American Airlines, which is a novel that takes the form of an immense letter of complaint written by a man stuck in an airport after a flight cancellation. It looks pretty interesting, and if the conceit doesn't make you roll your eyes, it could very well be a book for you.

For upcoming readings, consult the full readings calendar.

Nathan Bransford, who is a literary agent, has a great discussion up at his blog about whether authors should feel obliged to produce a new book every year.

I've honestly never had the thought that books take a set time to write. I'm kind of shocked by how many commenters over there expect a book a year, as though it's their right as readers. But a lot of writers on Bransford's blog seem to think that this slow-pace thinking contributes to a kind of primadonna mentality. I can see both sides, but when it comes to fiction, I think that ultimately, the kind of care that's necessary almost demands more than a year's worth of work.

In Florida today, a man was convicted of brutally murdering a creator of Curious George. The details of the beating, which I won't reproduce here, are particularly soul-deadening. This is horrible. The sentencing hasn't happened yet. Hopefully, the shitbag will get life.

McSweeney's has a post up called "Lit 101 Class in Three Lines or Less." I'm really fond of how the one for The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe manages to fit some literary criticism into its three lines, and also the last line of the 1984 retelling is gold, but, for Christopher's sake, this is the one that bats it out of the park:

Moby-Dick

ISHMAEL: I'm existential.

AHAB: Really? Try vengeance.

ISHMAEL: I dig this dynamic. Can we drag it out for 600 pages?

We have a poetry slam, a historical novel about Louis XIV, an allegedly "uplifting and joyous debut novel" about an idiot, and a book from the point of view of a dog in town tonight. Plus more!

Over at Bailey/Coy books, Stephanie Brill reads from The Transgender Child: A Handbook for Families and Professionals. When I was doing my story about masculinity, I was told by a couple of professionals that as they were studying transgendered people, they learned that there's basically no textbook on transgender studies. So it's always good to see a new one of those, and it's also a fascinating subject that really only started to be discussed a few years ago. This is clearly the reading of the night.

At Town Hall, Richard Bolles, that What Color Is Your Parachute? guy, gives a little job-finding seminar. Expect a lot of out-of-work people to attend.

And up in the U District, there is a tenth anniversary celebration of Pontoon, the locally produced poetry journal. I don't believe I have ever read an issue of Pontoon, but I hate their name so very, very much. It's a clumsy, ugly word. And I'm usually in favor of the oons: raccoon, poon, boon. Perhaps it's the 'pon' that I'm not in favor of.

The full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is up on our Books page.

Let's get down to it tonight: If you're planning on going to the David Sedaris reading at Third Place, you are entirely out of luck unless you already have a ticket. It's sold out, and nobody will be allowed in without a ticket.

The good news is that there's a reading at Bailey/Coy books. They oughta do more readings over there at Bailey/Coy, I always sez. The bad news is that the reading at Bailey/Coy books is Andrea Askowitz, who wrote My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy. Jen Graves reviewed this a few weeks ago and totally hated the book:

In response to Andrea Askowitz's 237-page complaint memoir called My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, I'd like to propose another book called I'll Give You Something to Be Miserable About.

In that book, the female protagonist would be forced—no!—to work a paying job. She'd spend her pregnancy worrying about saving money to pay the rent during her maternity leave. She'd spend maternity leave rushing around researching day-care centers.

The review goes on from there, and it is beautiful.

At the Richard Hugo House, Floating Bridge Press celebrates the inaugural launch of their new magazine, appropriately titled Floating Bridge Review. There will be readings by many poets.

At the University Book Store, Paul Park, who wrote a series that started with a book called A Princess of Roumania, will be reading. Roumania was promising, but ultimately unfulfilling. I think that sci-fi publishers should force new authors to write a free-standing novel or two before they immediately launch into trilogies and tetralogies and dodecahedrogies. A trilogy is a tough thing, and most new authors have no idea how to sustain their ideas for that long.

Speaking of long pieces of writing, we will move right along: at Elliott Bay Book Company, two authors will discuss their book called Black Velvet Masterpieces, which is a collection of found black velvet paintings. And, finally, Philip P. Pan, whose initials are P.P.P., reads from his book about China, Out of Mao's Shadow, at Town Hall.

(Phew!)

The full readings calendar, including the next week or so, has more information about all these readings.

Apparently, Entertainment Weekly published its thousandth issue this week, and the entire magazine is devoted to "New Classics," or the best, um, entertainment in the last twenty-five years. There are 100 new movie classic lists and 100 new music classic lists, but, being the book guy, I'm mainly interested in the 100 new books classics listl. It looks much more reasonable than EW's list of 100 albums that are new classics, which Jeff Kirby has already ripped on over at Line Out.

You know, there's a lot of good here: there's a nice mix of genres and mediums (I'm glad that they included Jimmy Corrigan by Chris Ware, which has to be one of the best books I've ever read, and they've also inserted other ((way too?)) obvious comics choices like Sandman and Maus.) I'd put Wind-Up Bird Chronicle inside the top ten list, and I'd completely remove Cold Mountain (of which I only remember two horrifying words, used to describe a vagina: bewhiskered notch).

The Tipping Point belongs nowhere but a Fortune 500 CEO's bathroom, and, since the very funny and very Irish Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt has diluted his own work to the point of obscurity. And The Da Vinci Code and America (The Book) belong nowhere near any list with the name 'classic' at the top. (One is the stupidest book I've ever read, the other won't age well at all.) But on the whole, it's a decent list full of entertaining books, both highbrow and mindless fun. You could do a lot worse than check it out before hitting up the library.

Over at Bookslut, editor Jessa Crispin counters Kerry Cohen's definition of the word 'slut,' as described in Cohen's memoir Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity. Crispin says that "Having slept with 40 men by the time you're in your late 30s does not make you a slut," and, further, she provides an actual mathematical formula to determine sluttiness:

# of Total Men > Your Age x 1.5

It's unclear, based on Crispin's use of the word "Men," whether this would also apply to hetero men, too.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? Girl Factory, by Jim Krusoe

Where'd you go? Bleu Bistro.

What'd you eat? Macaroni and cheese ($7.99) with the optional Caesar salad ($2.99).

How was the food? It was really good. The macaroni and cheese was more like a baked ziti, only without any red sauce. The top was crunchy and the bottom was goopy, just the way I like, and the cheese was a nice sharp cheddar. The salad was, you know, Caesar-y and good. The whole thing came with three good pieces of not-too-garlicky-for-lunch garlic toast. I always forget about Bleu Bistro, and whenever I go inside I have to fight a momentary fear of the cramped booths in the place going up in flames, but I've never been disappointed by the food.

What does your date say about itself? This is the newest novel by the author of the amazing debut novel Iceland. If you have a good tolerance for quirky, sad writing, Iceland is something that you really need to read; it's about how we make more of our memories than other people do. Reading that book was such a grand experience that I'm afraid to re-read it. I recall the pleasurable feeling of reading it almost more than I remember the actual words that I read. Girl Factory is about a man who works at a frozen yogurt store in a strip mall owned by a man named Spinner. Spinner is doing something weird in the basement. Also, there's a hyperintelligent, chess-playing dog running around

Is there a representative quote? "This was the first time ever that Spinner had trusted me with the keys to Mister Twisty’s, but at any rate I was feeling very tired myself, and for some reason, a little sad also. From the basement I could hear the hum of the giant cooling machines as I sprayed a little Windex on the counters to wipe away the stickiness, and rubbed down the swirl machines with chrome cleaner. And I was just about to go home when I heard, or thought I heard, a difference in the intensity of sound coming from below me...It was probably nothing, but just suppose there was some kind of a malfunction in the equipment downstairs, or even one of the old guys had had a heart attack and fallen into the machinery. We never really kept track of who went down and who came back up, and for all I know there might be someone down there, dying this very minute. I knew that Spinner had said he’d been working on the equipment a few weeks earlier, but I also knew that he had told me once, when I first began to work there, never to go down to the basement for any reason at all."

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes. It might not be as miraculous as Iceland—and it would be unfair to expect that of a second novel—I'm intrigued and ready for the book to get really weird. Whether it gets sad will remain to be seen.

The Locus Awards were given out this weekend "at the Courtyard Marriott Hotel in Seattle, at an event led by Master of Ceremonies Connie Willis." Locus is a science-fiction fan magazine, apparently based out of Seattle. Connie Willis is awesome.

The winner of the big enchilada award for sci-fi novel was The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon. This one has swept pretty much every single genre-specific award ceremony in the last year, including the Nebula and Hugo awards, which are both sci-fi, and it was shortlisted for the Edgar award, which goes to mystery novels. The thing about it—and it is a great book—is that it's not particularly a great science fiction novel or a great mystery novel. But it seems like representatives for every genre spend the majority of their time hoping for crossover appeal, so it's not that shocking a choice.

Other winners include Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill (a.k.a. Stephen King's son) for best first novel and Un Lun Dun by China Miéville for best young adult novel. I think that this is the last of the genre awards for the year. Let us rejoice and be glad.

A fantasy author, an open mic, and a bunch of other readings going on tonight.

At the Bellevue Regional Library, Jennifer Worick reads from Backcountry Betty: Roughing It in Style, a book that has information about "how to trick out your fleece" and how to start a fire with lipstick.

Up at Third Place Books, Kathryn Harrison reads from While They Slept : An Inquiry Into the Murder of a Family. I'm usually more interested in true crime authors themselves than I am in their books, but this looks like an interesting one. It's about a man who killed his parents and sister. He apparently killed them while they slept. So that solves the mystery of the title.

At Elliott Bay Book Company, David Sedaris reads from his newest book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames. This reading is sold out, but that doesn't mean you can't attend. The tickets were for the reading room, but the cafe and bookstore will also be wired for sound. So you may not be able to see Mr. Sedaris, but you will still be able to hear his voice. It will be an experience akin to, say, listening to him on the radio. Also, he generally stays until every last book is signed for every last person in line. And now that he's not smoking, he won't be stepping out for cigarettes every twenty minutes or so, and so the line will move faster.

And at Town Hall, world-famous snitch Scott McClellan reads from his book What Happened, about how he was the stupid mouthpiece of the stupid Bush administration and how he didn't do anything about the stupid lies he was saying day in and day out until after the 2004 election was a not-so-fond memory. Hopefully, someone will ask him why, besides a no-doubt enormous book deal, he waited so frigging long to squeal.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, can be found elsewhere.

An open mic and three other readings going on today, which is fairly heavy for a Sunday in Seattle.

At Elliott Bay Book Company, Chris Carlsson reads from Nowtopia: How Pirate Programmers, Outlaw Bicyclists and Vacant Lot Gardeners are Inventing the Future Today. Carlsson is the founder of the Critical Mass bike happening. Now's your chance, angry car drivers! Go protect him, earnest bike riders! Awesome fight in the basement of Elliott Bay, everyone else!

At Queen Anne Books, Mary Pols reads from Accidentally on Purpose, which is about how she had a baby from a one-night stand. I can't hear about these sorts of books without imagining the kid reading it one day. I have yet to read a book or article about this happening, but I think it'll be a huge trend in, say, 2021. Get ready.

And then, after all the programmers, bicyclists, and gardeners have been cleared out of Elliott Bay, Joseph O'Neill will read from his critically acclaimed new novel, Netherland. This is obviously the reading of the day.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is at your service.

Two open mics and three readings going on today.

At noon, at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, Elizabeth Sims reads from The Actress, which is about an aspiring actress who gets paid to coach a murder suspect to act more like an innocent human being. I must admit, I'm intrigued by this premise.

At the Elliott Bay Book Company, Russell Howze reads from (and hopefully will have a photo slideshow from) his new book Stencil Nation: Graffiti, Community and Art. I hope some anti-graffiti people show up to complain. That would make for a lively reading.

And then, later in the evening at Elliott Bay Book Company, Susan Linn reads from The Case for Make-Believe. Linn "was mentored by the late Fred Rogers." I miss Mr. Rogers so fucking much.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is available for your perusal.

It's been a slow news week in the publishing industry--possibly the slowest since I started on this beat back in February. Summer is not the newsiest time for books. But the New York Times has a lovely page with quotes from New York independent booksellers about the weirder parts of their jobs. It's the perfect Friday book-link--undemanding and interesting, at the same time.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? Farewell Navigator, a collection of short stories by Leni Zumas

Where'd you go? Cafe Stellina .

What'd you eat? A potato, provolone, and bacon tart ($10).

How was the food? Stellina is a controversial restaurant around these parts, but I really dug on that tart. There wasn't too much bacon, the crust was light and flaky, the potatoes made the whole thing just heavy enough to be satisfying, and the tart was surrounded by greens coated in Stellina's delicious rosemary dressing. It was a good lunch.


What does your date say about itself? Ten short stories by a fairly new author "who plays drums in the post-punk band S-S-S-Spectres." "Attention unrequited lovers, sisters of suicidal brothers, children of the legally blind: you are not alone. Leni Zumas understands your quiet agony and describes it with such a wry, unflinching familiarity that even the gory details ring true. If darkness has ever been your friend, your story is in here."—Miranda July

Is there a representative quote? "The word is moxa, I say, and here are your choices: a medieval fortified keep; a small instrument used to brush hair off the South American goose; a preternaturally skilled hoagie maker; or a flammable material obtained from the leaves of Japanese wormwood.
Hoagie is a disturbing word, my mother says.
You have ten seconds.
Well, she says, I don't know what hoagie means so how can I choose?"

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes. In one lunch, I got through two stories, and the first one was way too vague for my tastes, the second one—the one quoted above—was a bit too eccentric for me, and the third seems just right. So we'll see where it goes from here. There's enough in the language to remind me of Aimee Bender, who's one of my all-time favorites, to keep me happy even in the vaguest of the stories. I don't get the sense that Zumas is a writer biding time until her novel gets edited; she seems to really like short stories, and that makes all the difference.

A book about a one-night stand that magically turned into a baby and several other events this evening.

Up at the University Book Store, W. Hodding Carter reads from Off the Deep End: The Probably Insane Idea that I Could Swim My Way to Youth, and Qualify for the Olympics, at Age Forty-Five. An alternate title could be: My Mid-life Crisis, and How I Got a Book Deal and Pruny Fingers Out of It.

Also up in the U District, Nancy Pearl is interviewing William Gibson onstage. This is the kickoff for this season's Clarion West sci-fi reading series. The title for this interview is "Virtual Lust." I wonder how Nancy Pearl, author of Book Lust, feels about having the word 'lust' appendaged onto everything she touches. In any case, this should be good.

At Elliott Bay Book Company, Diana Kennedy, the author of The Art of Mexican Cooking will sign her cookbooks. There will be free food. It will probably be Mexican food. This is what advertising people refer to as "synergy," and what poor journalists refer to as "manna from heaven."

And at Town Hall, Robert Scheer reads from The Pornography of Power: How Defense Hawks Hijacked 9/11 and Weakened America. It sure does sound important, although, as I noted in the calendar listing for this reading, the book has nothing to do with pornography or actual hawks, so if you had your hopes inflated by that title, you should deflate them now.

Questions can be sated by the full readings calendar.

An open mic and then four non-fictional-type book readings going on today.

At the University Book Store, Andrew Ward reads from his most recent work as an editor, a collection of hundreds of diaries, letters, and biographical accounts of the African-American Civil War experience, edited into a book called The Slave's War. Simultaneously, speaking of African-American history, at Elliott Bay Book Company, Eric Etheridge reads from his book Breach of Peace: Portraits of the 1961 Mississippi Freedom Riders, which is about hundreds of people who went to Mississippi to fight segregation laws.

Up at Third Place Books, Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois read from their cookbook Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. Hopefully, they'll bring samples. This reading was canceled. Don't go to Third Place asking for bread tonight. They will not give you bread. No bread! Sorry for the inconvenience--my hard-working intern, Tori Centanni, told me this was canceled some time ago, and I completely forgot to take it off the calendar. Then, being an incredibly gracious intern, she informed me that I could blame it on her. That, ladies and gentleman, is a real intern.

And at the Seattle Public Library, Mary Pols reads from Accidentally on Purpose, which is a book about how she had a one-night stand, got pregnant, and became a single mom. Pols is reading everywhere in the next week or so, so if you can't make it out tonight, don't feel bad.

The full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is on our books page.

A poetry slam and a few other things going on tonight.

At Third Place Books, Kris Steinnes reads from Women of Wisdom: Empowering the Dreams and Spirit of Women. So if any of you ladies need your dreams and spirits empowered, you know where to go tonight; tell 'em Paul Bobby sent you.

At the University Book Store, Sam Gosling reads from Snoop: What Your Stuff Says About You, which is supposed to be about learning about people through their stuff. I have a confession to make: in the readings calendar, I say that this "looks like a fascinating book," and I give the reading a star. This weekend, while I was sick, I read about half of Snoop. It's a terrible book, one that makes Malcolm Gladwell look like Albert Einstein. We're supposed to be shocked that people who use Stephen Wright quotes as signatures at the end of their e-mails are quirky and a little outsiderish. We're told that a college student, a member of a sorority, has a bumper sticker in her dorm room that reads "Be Your Own Goddess," and that that means she "broadcast(s) public self-affirmation with a feminist twist." This is one of the dumbest, most obvious books I've read in a long time. Ignore the star, and don't go to the reading. Sorry I got suckered.

At Elliott Bay Book Company, Sasa Stanisic reads from How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone is a debut novel that's getting great reviews. I want to say the author's name over and over again. I'd also like to read the book, but I haven't yet. Beware!

And at Town Hall is the most interesting reading of the night: Jeremy Scahill reads from Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army, which is just out in paperback. I'm convinced that if more people understood the story behind Blackwater, it would be the biggest scandal in America. Scahill's a good writer, and this is an important book, and not at all stupid like some other books in this post that I could mention.

A full readings calendar, with mostly believable recommendations, is on our Books page.

The Literary Saloon has a link to a Guardian profile of Amélie Nothomb, the Belgian novelist who writes semiautobiographical fiction. Two of her books, The Character of Rain and Fear and Trembling, have been published over here, and they're both lovely little novels. She writes more than gets published over here, though. A lot more:

Sixteen published novels represent only a fraction of her prodigious output, however. Nothomb declares herself to be in the middle of her 64th manuscript, having reached a rhythm where she completes three or four manuscripts a year, publishing only those which she feels comfortable sharing with others. She describes her writing as being guided completely by instinct, saying she becomes "pregnant" with a book and must deliver it, no matter what. Publication isn't her main reason for writing, it's a side-effect of a drive to write which she does not fully understand herself.

I knew she was weird, but I had no idea she was this weird. She also only writes books that are loosely based on her life before she was 25, when she became a bestselling success. That was back in '92. Her life after that "doesn't inspire" her.

If you haven't read Nothomb before, you might want to give her a look--I bought both her novels used up at Third Place a little while back and virtually swallowed them whole. Also, the movie made of her novel Fear and Trembling is really good, though it's only available at Scarecrow because it hasn't been released on video in America.

Three readings today.

At the University Book Store, Lawrence Cheek reads from Year of the Boat, about building a boat in his garage over the course of a year. Just like Noah! Only without the animals.

At the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, we have Jeffery Deaver, who wrote the Lincoln Rhyme thriller The Broken Window. Deaver read last night at the University Book Store. I was not in attendance, so I can't tell you if it was a thrill ride or a snoozer, but I can tell you that this is your last chance for some Deaver-affection until at least his next book. So go on and cuddle up today:

_{Awwww, he wuvs puppies!}

And at Elliott Bay Book Company, Thomas Kohnstamm reads from Do Travel Writers Go To Hell? I thought that this book was going to be just another 'wacky' book about travel writing, but after doing a little research, I discovered that it looks really interesting. Kohnstamm was a writer for Lonely Planet travel guides, and he alleges that the industry is so ill-paying that the authors have to do illicit things like take freebies and sell ecstasy to keep financially afloat. This is clearly the reading of the day.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is over here.

Bookslut links to a story about the origin of the "Footprints" poem that's absolutely everywhere. There are a number of people who are claiming to have written the poem, and most of them want royalties.

Although several people have suggested to Webb, as consolation, that God gave the idea to multiple authors in order to more efficiently spread His Word, Webb is unsettled by the idea that “the Lord would be the author of confusion.” However the verse came into being, its message has reached all over the world. “Footprints” is the kind of poem we all seem to know without remembering when or where we first saw it. We’ve read it dozens of times, never paying attention. The verse is dislocated from context, so familiar and predictable that the boundary between writing and reading seems to disappear.

Be sure to read the comments to the Poetry Foundation story, too, as one woman, Carolyn Joyce Carty, claims to have written "Footprints" and also the lyrics to the poem she calls "In My Life I Loved You More," which was callously stolen by The Beatles.

If you're as fascinated by this as I am, NPR also has a story about the lawsuits that are brewing over the poem. And then there's this classic Onion take on the whole thing.

A thriller, a book about gardening, an open mic, and three more events going on tonight.

First, at the University Book Store, Jeffrey Deaver is reading from his new Lincoln Rhyme thriller, The Broken Window. I wrote about my guilty attraction to Lincoln Rhyme thrillers a couple weeks back. I expect that Jeffrey Deaver is probably unwittingly hilarious in person--all of his essays and introductions are so sincere that he seems utterly unaware of himself as a schlock mystery writer with a deaf ear to dialogue and a hook-hand for typing plot. This could be a good time, especially since his fans are probably religiously devoted to him.

At Town Hall, Ahmed Rashid reads from Descent into Chaos: The United States and the Failure of Nation Building in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Central Asia. This is one of those readings that proves to be eerily relevant, given the news that the Taliban is making advances in Afghanistan. Rashid's last book, about the Taliban, was titled Taliban.

And at Elliott Bay Book Company, Ed Park is reading from Personal Days, his first novel. I took Personal Days out on a Lunch Date a little over a week ago and I loved it. I've long since finished the book and it's pretty amazing. The the first person plural narration that I was nervous about subsided early on--the book's in three parts, and each is narrated differently--and the book finishes in a satisfying way. Plus, it's a paperback original, so it's easier on the wallet than most first-time novels. I'll probably write more about Personal Days in a week or so in the books section, but this reading is totally worth your time.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, is up for your inspection.

There's only one reading this Father's Day, and it's dad-related. At Elliott Bay Book Company, James P. Lenfestey reads from A Cartload of Scrolls: 100 Poems in the Manner of T’ang Dynasty Poet Han-Shan. They are a bunch of poems about being a father.

For non-dad related readings, please consult the full readings calendar, including the next week or so, here.

There is a ton of stuff going on all over the place today, including two thrillers, an open mic, a book about "zen gardening", a book about space travel to Mars, and a book about crocheting with non-traditional fibers.

First, and something that's about to start at the Hugo House right now, is an all-day discussion of the works of the Bronte sisters (depicted above.) I might go just to see what the people look like; I'm thinking it will be a roomful of beautiful shy people, casting sideward glances at each other. There was an online registration for this one, but I bet you could sweet-talk your way in if you really wanted to.

Up at Third Place, David Klinghoffer reads from How Would God Vote?: Why the Bible Commands You to Be a Conservative, a book that suggests you consider fictional characters before you waste your vote. I really want to know how Superman would vote, myself.

And at the Seattle Public Library, David Shields reads from his latest book, which is about sex and death and birth and death and then more death. Charles liked the book a lot.

Full readings calendar, including the readings I mentioned above, can be found over here.

Hulk Fact!

There was a Hulk doll released in the U.K. that was anatomically correct.

ENGLAND-- Shocked six-year-old Leah Lowland checked out a mystery bulge on her Incredible Hulk doll — and uncovered a giant green WILLY.

Curious Leah noticed a lump after winning the monster, catchphrase “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” at a seaside fair.

And when she peeled off the green comic-book character’s ripped purple shorts, she found the two-inch manhood beneath them.

Horrified Leah immediately ran to mum Kim and reported the find. And last night Kim called for a ban on the saucy toy. She said: “A hulk with a bulk like this just shouldn’t be allowed.

“Considering the doll is only 12-inches tall it’s amazing how big his willy is.

“And it’s definitely not an extra piece of material left on by mistake.”

The full report is here.

Via I-mockery, which has a lovely gallery of hideous Hulk stuffed animals that must be seen to be believed.

Hulk Fact!

One of the best Hulk comics ever is by James Kochalka, and it's only four pages long!

Here's the first page:

You can find the rest of the story here.

Bonus Hulk Fact!

Kochalka once pitched an idea of a super-hero group called The Hulk Squad. The Hulk Squad was a bunch of multi-colored clones of the Hulk. They would fight crime together. Or they'd fight each other. Or something. But, who cares! Multi-colored clones of the Hulk! My favorite, after the original green flavor, is the blue one.

Hulk Fact!

Did you know that one of the Hulk's deadliest foes is named The Bi-Beast? It's true!

According to The Immortal Thor fansite, the Bi-Beast is a citizen of the "City of the Bird-People," and that the very sad Bi-Beast doesn't have any relatives, but

the Bi-Beasts two heads, each possessing a separate intellect, address each other as "skull brother"

It's unknown if the Bi-Beast will still have two heads when he gets out of college.

Hulk Fact!

Did you know that the Hulk's alter ego, Bruce Banner, was nearly raped in a YMCA shower in a 1980s comic book? It's true:

For more information, see Cracked.

There's an open mic night and two other options for your reading pleasure this evening.

At the Hugo House, Deborah Lawrence reads from Dee Dee Does Utopia. If I understand the premise correctly, Ms. Lawrence sent out a group e-mail to her friends to describe utopia. Then she created collages depicting the utopias that her friends described. Ms. Lawrence is local, which means that she has read or will be reading at just about every venue in the city.

And up at Third Place Books, we have Karin Bauer, the editor of a book called Everybody Talks About the Weather...We Don't. It's a collection of writings by Ulrike Meinhof, a German journalist who became a terrorist. The book has a foreword by Nobel Literature Laureate Elfriede Jelinek and an afterward by Meinhof's daughter, who tries to tear her mother down and de-accentuate the writing. Should be fun.

Also, as Mr. Poe pointed out yesterday, Andre Dubus II reads at Town Hall Seattle on the 26th and you should buy your tickets beforehand, because it'll probably at least come close to selling out. Tickets can be bought at Elliott Bay Book Company.

Full readings calendar, including the next week or so, can be found over here.

According to the Huffington Post, Bill O'Reilly has a memoir coming out this fall. It's title is A Bold Fresh Piece of Humanity. I will totally review the fuck out of this book.

Specifically, hey you thousands of people who have seen the Sex and the City movie and then have bugged booksellers: The book that Carrie reads in the movie doesn't exist.

Rarely have I wanted to use the atrocious word "sheeple" so badly.

The University Book Store has just announced that they're going to host Scott McClellan at Town Hall on Monday the 23rd at7:30 pm. McClellan will read from and sign What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington's Culture of Deception.

Tickets are $5 at Brown Paper Tickets. Further information can be found by calling the U Book Store at 634-3400.