The Elegant Variation

RUMINATOR R.I.P.

As has already been widely reported, Ruminator Books has thrown in the towel after a long struggle.

Ruminator Books, one of most highly regarded independent bookstores in the country and a gathering spot for Minnesota writers and readers, will close by the end of July after 34 years.

"It's expensive and takes a lot of energy and I have no money at all; I put it all in this business," said owner and founder David Unowsky, 62. "I've been living with this a long time. I feel bad."

"But I take a lot of pride in what I've done for 34 years and don't feel like it's been wasted," Unowsky said.

The announcement comes after years of money problems, including the store's lease with neighboring Macalester College. College officials said lease negotiations broke down with Ruminator owing the school about $500,000.

There's additional coverage of the closing via the Star Tribune and also from Minnesota Public Radio.

MORE BAKER

The Independent picks up yesterday's WaPo article about Checkpoint but doesn't have much new information to offer.

Likewise, it is impossible to tell whether Mr Baker's book will become a lightning rod for the competing political passions that have divided the country, particularly over the war in Iraq and its aftermath. Unlike Michael Moore, he has never laid claim to a populist mantle or sought to attract attention to himself through overt rabble-rousing.

Rather, his invariably short, literary novels - The Mezzanine, U and I, A Box of Matches - have tended to dwell on such mundane activities as riding an escalator, tying one's shoelaces and weeding. Only Vox (1995) raised any eyebrows because it dealt with the topic of phone sex. In the pages of The New Yorker and in subsequent published essays, Mr Baker has also railed against the over-hasty introduction of digital record-keeping in public libraries and the abandonment of paper - not exactly an issue to induce the White House security detail to reach for their revolvers.

Dude. Revolvers are so Mod Squad. They're all Glock users, I'm sure ...

L.A. READING - MET THEATRE

Tonight concludes Met Theatre's Way Out West series, wherein celebrities read from published material. There is, however, at lease one noteworthy surprise in the lineup:

The MET Theatre hosts the final week of this ambitious series, dedicated entirely to the literature of the American West. The program has featured dozens of pen and stage notables, and this conclusion is something of a coup. Sure to be an inspired rendition is Michael Ondaatje's Collected Works of Billy the Kid read by Justin Kirk of Angels in America fame, with compelling comic relief in the form of Jeremy Piven's reading of Ron Hansen's The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. The true treasures, though, are the rare opportunities to hear Jesse Shepard's Thirty Head of Killers and Percival Everett's God's Country, read by the authors themselves. (Emphasis added)

If you're interested in stopping by, here are the details:

when: Wed 6.30 (8pm)
where: The MET Theatre (1089 N Oxford Ave, Hollywood, 323.957.1152)
price: $20
links: Event Info

THE BUGATTI QUEEN

I grew up surrounded by vintage British sports cars - MG's, to be specific. To this day, FOTEV's (or is it DOTEV's? Either way, today is his 77th birthday.) collection of MG models is the largest in the world. (So you can see OCD runs in the family - at his height, he also seven of the full scale versions lying around.) Sad to say, I've never been much of a man's man - I take opera over hoops and foie gras over a cheeseburger - but the one places where my male bonafides cannot be contested is in the realm of fast cars. (My history of speeding tickets and insurance rates offer quiet testimony to that fact.) I invariably slow before the window of the Aston Martin/Lagonda showroom. My eyes involuntarily follow the Lotus Esprit motoring by.

So needless to say, I was utterly fascinated by the LRB review of Miranda Seymour's new book The Bugatti Queen: In Search of a Motor Racing Legend. It's the story of Helene Delange, who raced under the nom de voiture Helle Nice, and I can't help but wonder how long it will be before Hollywood takes notice of her.

In 1929 Hellé, driving an Omega-Six, won the Grand Prix Féminin at Montlhéry, becoming 'the fastest woman in the world' by lapping the steep-sided bowl at 198 kph. Her preparation for the race had been less than ideal: 'A green-eyed boy, a friend of one of the costume makers at the casino, had stayed the night. A mixture of morphine, champagne and sex had left her wanting to crawl into a coal hole when she woke up.' The morphine sounds ominous, but it was presumably to alleviate the ski injury. In an instant she found herself famous. No hangover could prevent 'the charming Casino de Paris dancer' from milking the victor's applause to the limit, with time off to prick the blisters raised on her hands by the hot hammering of the steering wheel. Her prowess in the Omega brought an invitation from Ettore Bugatti to join his dwindling stable of women drivers. She was summoned to the Bugatti estate at Molsheim, 'which all French Bugatti drivers looked on as their Camelot', but significantly was not invited to stay under the family roof or even to dine there, being put up in the firm's hostellerie, 'Le Pur Sang' (the Bugatti slogan). Ettore probably knew an adventuress when he saw one. He had a son, Jean, whom he expected to inherit the business and who had already been caught up in her circle.

It all ends rather badly, amid accusations of collaboration with the Nazis. But the book sounds like a wonderful glimpse of the golden age of road racing, and it's now officially on our radar.

CODRESCU REVIEW

Newsday takes a look at Andrei Codrescu's new novel Wakefield, named for the book's protagonist, a New Orleans-based motivational speaker who makes a bargain with the devil - a year's reprieve from death so he can journey in search of his "true life."

The author fashions Wakefield's cross-country tour into a kind of satirical three-ring circus. This time his targets aren't religious fundamentalists but feuding ethnic groups, contemporary art and art critics, New Age cultists, aging radicals turned foodies and many more.

Wakefield's "motivational speeches" are daffy exercises in gobbledygook: "Reality is the oldest virtuality there is," he informs an audience of software executives.

Everywhere Wakefield goes, the devil is monitoring his "progress." But Satan's own mid-life crisis has prompted some of the lesser demons to urge him to undertake psychotherapy. He simply can't abide their efforts to modernize and bureaucratize the precincts of Hell.

If you've never been, check out Exquisite Corpse, the online incarnation of Codrescu's magazine. Oh, and if you ever get us drunk enough, we do a tolerable AC impersonation ...

BEN HECHT HONORED

Not to step on Sam's turf or anything, but Chicago's given Walton Street a new - albeit honorary - name: Ben Hecht Way.

Ben Hecht --for most Chicagoans the name might ring a bell but we probably don't remember exactly who he was. Well, he was a very famous writer, author, playwright and screenwriter. But that's now what this gathering is all about. It's all about Ben Hecht and how he tried to save Jews during World War II.

Hecht used the power of the press to try to convince America what was happening to the Jews under Hitler.

"He spoke out. He had knowledge of what was going on. This terrible, terrible calculate plan of the Nazis to kill a people and destroy them," said Ald. Burton Natarus, 42nd Ward.

He bought full page ads in newspapers trying to convince the Roosevelt administration about the genocide but very few listened until it was almost too late.

Hecht is also a source of endless bon mots about Hollywood. Here's one of my favorites:

I discovered early in my movie work that a movie is never any better than the stupidest man connected with it. There are times when this distinction may be given to the writer or director. Most often it belongs to the producer.

UPDATE: Sam's on it, and offers up additional links to the story.

KUNZRU HEARTS BOLLYWOOD

And the Hari Kunzru publicity machine just keeps rolling along, this latest iteration leading us to Newindpress.

Yeah, it’s pretty clear Kunzru is rather besotted with Bollywood, a fascination sparked off five years ago by Dev Anand’s Tere Ghar Ke Samne. To an editor in New York, Kunzru even said that if Transmission was being made in Bollywood he would pick Saif Ali Khan for Arjun, not Hrithik Roshan because his muscles were way too big, or Aamir Khan because he was way too serious. Kajol would be his Leela Zahir.

There’s more in the movie pipeline – Mira Nair plans to turn 'The Impressionist' into a movie (no casting yet, script under way). An American director has his eyes on 'Transmission', and Naughty Naughty Lovely Lovely, the movie Arjun is crazy about, definitely has a Karan Johar ring to it.

"It’s easier to turn my second novel into a movie than my first," says Kunzru. "I don’t know what Mira plans to do. I suppose she would have to simplify it a lot but she did tell me she wants to use all the elements."

FAHRENHEIT 9/11 BOOSTS BOOK SALES

PW (subscription only) reports that the opening of Fahrenheit 9/11 has been a boon to Scribner's House of Bush, House of Saud.

After the movie's big opening weekend, Unger's book climbed the bestseller chart on Amazon.com and his phone began ringing with media requests. "The book's been out for a while and I thought things had died down, but wow," Unger told PW Daily this afternoon. The book spent six weeks on the New York Times bestseller list after it was published in March. But Unger said some media ignored the book. "On some level, when it initially came out, it was sort of outside the comfort zone of the mainstream media and it kind of worked its way in."

Even when he did television and radio appearances, Unger said, the reaction was nothing like what he's experiencing because of the movie. "When I appear on a talk show, I know people are doing the dishes or whatever, but when they pay to sit in the theater, it has a different impact."

The book, which had ranked below 100 on Amazon before the movie, hit as high as 37 today. After an initial printing of 100,000 copies, the book has been back to press five times for a total of 145,000 copies. It has also just been given a new cover that touts the Fahrenheit 9/11 connection.

On a related note, my Fahrenheit 9/11 post yesterday generated some comments both on blog and off. Since I've been asked to expand on my thoughts a bit, I'll say this:

I've always had the same criticism of Moore's style. He's essentially a sucker for the cheap shot (i.e., the Heston interlude in Bowling for Columbine). And I think that can limit how far his message goes. (Frankly, I think his stupid and naive support of Ralph Nader in 2000 is far worse than any filmic sins he's ever commited.) HOWEVER:

I don't have the least problem with his turning in a blistering piece of agitprop. The right has long made clear they have no use whatsoever for the facts, spouting some of the vilest lies I've ever heard. And, history shows, it's effective. So I refuse to be bound by Marquis of Queensbury rules while the other side is flinging shit in my eyes at every turn. But the fact is that, even after reading Hitch's diatribe, I am not aware of a single untruth in the film, no out and out whoppers of the caliber that the right specializes in. Is there heavy spin? Sure. Selective editing. You betcha. But it is, after all, a polemic and should be viewed in that light.

The fact is that when I saw the film with Dr. Wife I was critical of a few things, most particulary the images of idyllic Iraq, as well as some of the more graphic footage. (This is where Moore's logic can get muddy - if death of innocents is the reason not to go to war, then there's not a war in history that could have taken place. But if it isn't - and here there were many better reasons not to do so - then the footage begins to feel gratuitous.) However in the main, Moore was merely pulling together what he'd been handed - Bush seems to excel at allowing himself to be caught looking like a feckless clown - and, as in a closing argument in a courtoom, there's no reason at all not to emphasize the facts in a way that favors your argument.

Is he a self-promoter? Yep. So? Clearly, this weekend's box office shows he's a successful self-promoter and given what he's promoting, I'm fine with that. The fact is that this is not a country that - by and large - responds to subtle argument and reasons (another thing the right knows so well). The electorate generally needs to be beaten bluntly over the head. And I'm pleased that someone is finally beating from the left.

What I'd like to see now is for Lion's Gate to offer PBS one free airing of the film on October 15. Or else have the DNC buy some network time. You listening, Mike?

OPRAH KICKBACKS? CONFUSION

The Literary Saloon has already linked to this article in the Independent about Richard and Judy, the U.K.'s answer to Oprah, so why link to it again here? Because this statement caught my attention:

"The key difference between Oprah and us is that she makes money out of it," says Ross. "Ofcom rules mean that we can't make any money. So we are more critical, less mass-market. It can't help but have an influence if you've going to make money."

Now I've said time and time again that I don't really know all that much about the publishing world, so perhaps it's common knowledge, but the notion of Oprah making money from her Book Club is news to me. Now, the Literary Saloon points out that the article gets at least one fact wrong, and this is a quote, but it would considerably change my (admittedly already pretty low) opinion of Oprah's club, adding a distinct whiff of hypocrisy to the proceedings. Perhaps one of my more savvy readers can weigh on in the actual arrangements?

UPDATE: I've been dropped a line by a reader in the know correcting the above:

Hey. The simple answer is, the Brits are wrong. Not only does Oprah not make money on the Book Club, she probably loses money for doing it, since those shows tend to get lower ratings than her regular episodes.

Ahh, that's better. The universe reasserts its shape.

TO BURN OR NOT TO BURN?

NPR's Andrea Seabrook sits in with the Ethicist, Randy Cohen, to discuss whether requests by the dead to destroy all their correspondence need to be fulfilled.

It's an interesting question. Franz Kafka famously instructed Max Brod to burn his unpublished work after his death - a request Brod refused. But Kafka's request was hardly unusual, as this brief essay by M.A. Orthofer makes clear.

It seems always to have been so. Roman poet Virgil instructed friends to burn the incomplete Aeneid after his death (and, apparently recognizing their reluctance, unsuccessfully tried to destroy his manuscripts himself). When he died—after returning from a voyage to Athens, on September 21, 19 B.C.E.—there was even imperial intervention: Caesar Augustus himself defied the poet’s wishes and insisted upon publication of the work.

There have been authors who managed to erase the work they did not want preserved, some only in their final moments: 19th-century Russian fiction writer Nikolai Gogol burned the second half of Dead Souls 10 days before his death in 1852; popular 18th-century novelist, dramatist, and actress Elizabeth Inchbald, too weak on her deathbed to do it herself, instructed a friend to cut her memoirs to bits in front of her. Instances of authors leaving entire manuscripts to be burned after their deaths are relatively rare, but stories of private papers that they wanted destroyed—like the ones Florence Hardy spared from the flames—are plentiful, and much has been preserved against their wishes.

I used to ask that all my stuff be burned, simply because it was so godawful embarrassing. Since then, I've decided that the best move is simply to toss it all myself and make absolutely sure ... The world of letters will thank me.