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September 07, 2006

Comments

Tamara Kaye Sellman

Isn't it great when folks come around?

John Freeman

Mark, I think you're misrepresenting me here. I help run a blog for the NBCC, and I am a big fan of the innovations bloggers have pioneered on their sites. I raised a specific question about the Amazon affiliates program -- that does not mean I'm generally critical of blogs or bloggers. The point of my post (and the panel I set up) was to highlight such innovations and to show how some print book sections could adopt them. I hope this corrects the record.

TEV

That's fair enough, John, and I appreciate your taking the time to leave a comment here, although I confess I still think there's a bit more to your stance than you might be letting on. I wonder, though, did you ever address the arguments I raised in response to your Amazon question? (http://marksarvas.blogs.com/elegvar/2006/06/paging_john_fre.html) Perhaps you did somewhere and I missed it. But without those arguments being addressed, this has the whiff of "some of my best friends are bloggers" to it.

John Freeman

Mark, I think you make me out to be a much more mysterious guy than I am. It's too bad you don't live in New York -- I think we'll be addressing your question and more in an upcoming panel with Maud Newton, Lizzie Skurnick, Frank Wilson and Laurie Muchnick at Housing Works on September 27th at 7PM. If you happen to be in the city stop by.

TEV

Would love to be there, thanks for suggesting it, though it's a longshot. I'm sure I'll get a full download afterward. And I'm not suggesting some deep, sinister undercurrent - just looking for an answer to my questions, that's all. I expect it will come up at the panel.

The comments to this entry are closed.

TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."