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Wilde About Art
By Chris Larrew
Mon, November 30, 2009, 12:01 am PST

Oscar Wilde in 1882
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills
Wilde: "The only thing worse
than being talked about is not
being talked about"
It’s fun to imagine Oscar Wilde at a university today. Dandified in a lavender jacket with a green carnation in the buttonhole, he might hang out with the Art History or English majors. He would surely be disdainful of any on-campus PC movements which emphasized political art over beauty, and he would certainly dismiss as ugly the confessional poetry with which such poets as Sylvia Plath garnered fame.

Oscar Wilde believed in the supremacy of aesthetics in art, in concealing the artist, and in art free from heavy-handed morality. After all, he declared that "a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal." Wilde wrote "The Importance of Being Earnest," "A Woman of No Importance," and "The Picture of Dorian Gray," in which he deployed a refined (and at times savage) wit to expose the contradictions and behavior of modern manners. He considered himself a living representation of beauty in art: "I put all my genius into my life; I put only my talent into my works." In the spirit of sensuality and outrageousness, he played the provocateur to society's so-called moral watchdogs.

Stuffy Victorian England put up with him for a time, until he pissed off the wrong person in power. He had a scandalous affair with Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas, whose father, the Marquis of Queensbury, made sure that Wilde was brought to trial, defamed, and convicted on charges of "gross indecency."

Oscar Wilde spent two years at hard labor in prison in Reading. After he was released, he spent the last three years of his life in Paris, where he tried to recapture his former decadent lifestyle, but incarceration had snuffed his artistic spirit. Despite a deathbed burst of wit ("My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go"), he died penniless on November 30, 1900, and was interred at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery.

Suggested Sites...
Directory categories: Oscar Wilde, 19th Century People, British Artists, Aesthetics, Literary Fiction
Archived under: 19th Century, Anniversaries, Authors, Biographies, Celebrities, Dead Celebrities, England, Gay History, LGBT, Legal Cases, Men, Oscar Wilde, Prison, United Kingdom, Writers
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God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut
By Chris Larrew
Thu, November 12, 2009, 12:01 am PST

Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Vonnegut in 1990
(Photo by Don Cochrane)
During his lifetime, Kurt Vonnegut always felt unappreciated -- much like his fictional alter-ego, Kilgore Trout in "Breakfast of Champions."

The literary establishment may have looked down its nose at him, but Vonnegut's fans in the counterculture considered him a prophet and visionary, a humanist who used his absurdist novels and stories to try to make sense of a universe that seemed random and absurd.

Born on November 11, 1922, Vonnegut's life was indeed full of randomness and absurdity. His mother committed suicide on Mother's Day, 1944. Some years later, within days of each other, his brother-in-law was killed in a horrific train accident and his sister Alice died of cancer.

During World War II, he was held as a P.O.W. in a slaughterhouse during the Dresden firestorm, an experience that he worked into his celebrated novel "Slaughterhouse Five." After the war, he worked in a string of odd professions that included managing the first Saab dealership in the United States.

In a graphic sense, Vonnegut's life was his work. In such novels as "Cat's Cradle," "Mother Night," and the short story collection, "Welcome to the Monkey House," Vonnegut explored the way humans retain their humanity even in the face of uncontrollable and catastrophic events. His concerns -- dehumanizing technology, the need for connection under mindless bureaucracy and violence -- mark him as one of the 20th century's great humanist writers.

Suggested Sites...
Directory categories: Kurt Vonnegut, Science Fiction and Fantasy Writing, 20th Century People, World War II Prisoners of War, Humanism
Archived under: Authors, Biographies, Birthdays, Counterculture, Fiction, Literature, Science Fiction, Writers, Writing
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The Ultimate New Yorker
By Dave Sikula
Fri, November 6, 2009, 12:01 am PST

Cover of a book reprinting Harold Ross's letters to his writers
Ross in his prime. You wouldn't
think a guy with hair like that
would be such a cultural icon.
In the 1920s, only one American city was the center of art and commerce: New York. And in that city, only one magazine kept track of it all: "The New Yorker." And in that magazine, only one person mattered: founder and editor Harold Ross.

Ross was born November 6, 1892, in Aspen, Colorado, and soon developed printer's ink in his blood. By 13, he had dropped out of school to work at the Denver Post, and by 25 he had worked for six other newspapers, from San Francisco to Atlanta.

During World War I, Ross' talents got him a job in Paris, editing the Army newspaper, "Stars and Stripes." His fellow staff members included drama critic Alexander Woollcott and New York columnist Franklin P. Adams -- both of whom would go on to play roles in Ross' plans.

After the war, he settled in Manhattan, where he worked on those plans -- to create a weekly magazine that would analyze, comment on, and play a role in the cultural life of the city. It would not, Ross insisted, be a magazine for "the old lady in Dubuque." It would be sophisticated and urbane -- but not snobby. It had standards, but if a reader was witty or informed enough, he or she would be a member of the club.

In the depths of the winter of 1925, the first issue of "The New Yorker" rolled off the presses. Despite some glitches, such as a joke ("Pop: A man who thinks he can make it in par. Johnny: What's an optimist, Pop?") that ran with the set-up and punchline reversed -- a error reprinted in every anniversary issue for years -- the magazine was an instant hit. In the decades since, it has come to be considered the gold standard of American magazines.

That respect is due almost entirely to Ross. He personally edited virtually every word that appeared in every issue until his death in 1951, and, despite his own poor spelling, his meticulousness for precise grammar, clarity, and good writing attracted such notables as Vladimir Nabokov, John Updike, Ernest Hemingway, John Hersey, Ann Beattie, John Cheever, Roald Dahl, Alice Munro, John O'Hara, Philip Roth, J.D. Salinger, Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker, Irwin Shaw, Woody Allen, James Thurber, E.B. White (whose own prose style was crucial in setting the magazine’s voice and tone), and even Marlon Brando.

But the literary aspect of "The New Yorker" was only part of the package. Each issue was filled with cartoons by artists like Charles Addams, Peter Arno, George Booth, Roz Chast, George Price, Saul Steinberg, William Steig, and Thurber again. So good were (and are) the cartoons, that many readers never get past them and are still satisfied they got their money’s worth.

Despite Woollcott describing him as looking like "a dishonest Abe Lincoln," Ross' contributions to the culture of Manhattan and America are impossible to calculate. His sensibilities shaped the ways plays were written, movies received, and books were published, and it's almost impossible to imagine American -- and world -- culture without him.

Suggested Sites...
Directory categories: Harold Ross, The New Yorker, E.B. White, Magazines, Manhattan
Archived under: 1920s, Authors, Biographies, Birthdays, Cartoons, Journalism, Literature, Magazines, Media, New York, Society and Culture, The New Yorker
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National Novel Writing Month: The Marathon of Writing Events
By Katherine Leahey
Mon, November 2, 2009, 12:01 am PST

Midnight Write
Writers hold a "midnight write"
to kick off NaNoWriMo.
(Photo by Megan Myers)
Writers, boot up your laptops! November is National Novel Writing Month, or "NaNoWriMo" to the initiated. The idea is that with the right combination of drive and discipline, anyone can crank out a 175-page novel over the course of a month. A group of writers in San Francisco organized the first NoWriMo in 1999, and since then the event has snowballed into a national (if niche) phenomenon.

Interestingly, the project isn’t for pen and paper. To be an official participant, you have to submit your manuscript electronically in order to have the length verified by word-count software. It should be noted that people were keeping tabs on words long before machines made it easy to do so. Ernest Hemingway famously wrote 500 words a day.

This marathon of writing events begs the question: Can you really write a good novel in 30 days? Well, it doesn't have to be Proust; it just has to be 50,000 words. The event organizers are the first to admit that writing done in this manner isn't the stuff of masterpieces. They say -- and I quote -- "You will be writing a lot of crap." To them, it's more about the process. And like the marathon, not everyone finishes. According to the site, last year 120,000 participants signed on at the beginning of the month, but only 20,000 people completed their pieces by midnight on November 30, the official deadline.

Suggested Sites...
Directory categories: Literature, Creative Writing, Literature Events, Authors, San Francisco
Archived under: Arts, Authors, Books, Events, Fanatics, Literature, San Francisco, Writing
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English Literature’s Performing Flea
By David Todd
Fri, October 16, 2009, 12:01 am PDT

P.G. Wodehouse
If not actually disgruntled,
he was far from being gruntled.
Humility is rarely a virtue associated with notable artists (Kayne West take note), but P. G. Wodehouse was not a man to let his many successes give him delusions of grandeur. When the gritty socialist Irish dramatist Sean O'Casey bestowed the "performing flea" moniker on Wodehouse, he took it remarkably in his stride.

While many would have considered the label an insult, a damning indictment on a literary career that spanned almost 80 years and at least five different genres, Wodehouse chose instead to adopt the slur as the title for a collection of letters to a friend he was later to publish. Wodehouse acknowledged that he "went in for light writing" and that consequently he was "sneered at and looked down on by the intelligentsia." But when you can count amongst your fans such modern literary bigwigs as Douglas Adams, Salman Rushdie, Zadie Smith, and Terry Pratchett, then you must have been doing something right.

Nowadays perhaps most of us remember Wodehouse for his tales of Jeeves and Wooster, the hilarious accounts of a dim-witted self-indulgent toff who is continually rescued and extricated from an abundance of social blunders by his sage and worldly -- but crucially also socially inferior -- butler. The characters were joyously brought to screen by ex-Cambridge Univeristy Footlights duo Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. (Note to all readers that enjoy Mr. Laurie as the curmudgeonly House but have not seen his irrepressible performances in Jeeves & Wooster, then please do so... immediately.)

Perversely, it appears that the vehicle that brought his work into the lives and hearts of many (the aforementioned TV adaptation), is not something that Wodehouse himself would have approved of. I would, however, be presumptuous enough to assume that he would have relished the irony.

You see, Wodehouse was a theatre man who had little interest in movies and television, much less seeing his works adapted for the media. Of course, there were offers for syndication, and lucrative ones at that: television, theatre, comic strips, and even advertising. But Wodehouse knew that Jeeves' place was between the pages of a book. So how did he handle the offers to crowbar his characters into any and all media vehicles? A huge thespian hissy fit? Of course not. In his own words:

"It only needed Jeeves' deprecating cough and his murmured 'I would scarcely advocate it, sir.'"

Suggested Sites...
Directory categories: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, Yahoo! Groups about P.G. Wodehouse, Jeeves and Wooster TV Show, Authors, Literature
Archived under: Authors, Books, England, Fiction, Literature, P.G. Wodehouse, TV
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