"The driver is a stranger to me. He is young, no more than twenty-five, with a smooth face and a tentative moustache. His name is Shadad, but he is not a taxi driver, and this is not a taxi. This car and this driver were arranged hastily by my guide and friend, Majed, who helped me around Jeddah the previous week. Before this drive began, Majed and I considered it a decent, if necessary, idea to employ such a driver for this trip, but now I am pondering how I could leave this car. If I open the door and roll out, would I survive? And if I did survive, [...]
Each time I visit Northern California, I remember how it's funny that I never seem to remember how beautiful it is when I'm not there. This happened again last week, when I went there with with my wife and my kid over spring break.
I am merely going to note the volume at which I exclaimed "Oh my GOD" while reading this Onion interview with Dave Eggers, regarding his publication, the San Francisco Panorama. (Earlier, we published some speculation and suppositions regarding that one-time paper's own business model-by the way, since then, we've heard that many people who worked on it were not paid at all.)
from Are You My Mother? by Alison Bechdel
I'm staring across the kitchen table at the cartoonist Alison Bechdel, filled with a vague sense of dread. I am trying not to dwell on the regrettable fact that I arrived almost 15 minutes late for our interview, which perhaps has not set the right tone. While I do not want to gush, or seem nervous, or stupid, it seems that I have just offered to make her tea, as though that were a normal way to respond to a host who has just offered to do the same. It is late afternoon, and it has been raining all damn day. [...]
Wyndham Lewis was the coming man in 1913. Rich parents, Rugby, Slade School, knocked around Paris, talented writer and painter, good-lookin', etc.
Already he'd been published by Ford Madox Ford in The English Review and shown paintings with Jack the Ripper obsessive Walter Sickert. He also had three paintings in the second Post-Impressionist exhibition with Roger Fry and Clive Bell, members of the Bloomsbury Group. Almost all of those Bloomsbury guys were very what we used to call "fabulous," by which I mean arch, conceited, clever, stylish, discontented and self-regarding (21st-century virtues all).
Maurice Sendak said it first: "I thought it was never going to end." If you've ever been through family therapy, you've had the same thought. And this is what director Spike Jonze and screenwriter Dave Eggers have reduced Where The Wild Things Are to-a glum ninety-minute session where emotions are projected onto big fuzzy creatures who look like nested Russian dolls bleached of color, blown up and covered in hairy mildew. The creatures serve therapy, not dreams or fantasy. They embody the vexations of a boy named Max, but none of his desires or imagined ecstasies. And if you've read Where The Wild Things Are, you probably think it [...]
"Kathy Zeitoun said she considers Eggers' book a faithful and accurate portrait of the couple's shared ordeal during Katrina. But she believes she must publicly shed light on her ex-husband's violent side, which she says has emerged in recent years. 'I'm not going to be quiet about it anymore because being quiet puts him in a position to do it again,' she said." —Well, this is very sad. Abdulrahman Zeitoun, the protagonist of Dave Eggers' account of Hurricane Katrina and the atrocious government response that followed, is in jail for assaulting his wife. Zeitoun is beautifully written, and gives an invaluable look at a city in the [...]
"It's impossible that you have a million subscribers paying 50 bucks a year and it can't work," said Dave Eggers last Thursday, about the death of Gourmet, over at the Berkeley School of Journalism. Yes, that is actually impossible! And not so great that he keeps opining about the death of publishing with a complete lack of understanding how publishing works. Each issue of Gourmet actually brought in revenue of $1.18. A one-year subscription could be had at $15. The $50 a year figure is nonsense. And yet! He's right at heart, if not in fact. Gourmet made (and obviously spent!) a lot of money-they made $12 [...]
Tom Scocca: So because I am a subscriber to the New Yorker, my current issue is still the August 24 issue, which I guess people could buy off newsstands something like 10 days ago.
Choire Sicha: So you have just seen a truly hair-raising thing, I take it!
Tom Scocca: The pages are a little loose in this issue, because I flung it away from me and it hit the wall. I am not a satisfied customer.
Choire Sicha: The McKinsey consultants aren't going to like hearing that.
Tom Scocca: On page 61 of this issue there is a tiny bit of type. A photo credit. The photo credit reads [...]