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May 01, 2007

Comments

Coll B. Lue

I thoroughly enjoyed this post on Mixing Art & Politics especially about dumping 'the Q&A part of the event,

'which does bring up our one pet peeve about this sort of thing - dump the Q&A ... They are seldom edifying and more often excruciating as apparently lonely questioners simply want someone to talk to ...'

and

'(The stupid Q&A curse continued with the first questioner inquiring whether her two sons got along.)'

I suppose the next question on someone's list of questions would be,

'Who or what inspired you to write the book?'

Coll B. Lue

I thoroughly enjoyed this post on Mixing Art & Politics especially about dumping 'the Q&A part of the event,

'which does bring up our one pet peeve about this sort of thing - dump the Q&A ... They are seldom edifying and more often excruciating as apparently lonely questioners simply want someone to talk to ...'

and

'(The stupid Q&A curse continued with the first questioner inquiring whether her two sons got along.)'

I suppose the next question on someone's list of questions would be,

'Who or what inspired you to write the book?'

Coll B. Lue

Question and Answer sessions seem to bring out the worst in people for some uncanny reason:

I remember going to the Writers Evening, organised and held at The Poetry Library in London, about 4 years ago, (to re-open June 07) featuring a Swedish author from a small village in Sweden.

One member of the audience piped up:

You mentioned you liked smoked reindeer, is that a delicacy in that part of Sweden you're from?

The author, happily at home discussing reindeers and the like, went into details of smoking a reindeer (in his shed), which he reiterated was a delicacy enjoyed by Swedes. He then proceeded to take a brown block of meat from his bag and offered the audience a chance to taste it at the end of the Writers' session.

I learnt, then, that reindeer could be eaten smoked.

a cup of tea

Thanks for your wrap-ups. I still can't believe I missed so much. I was at the Tolstaya/Remnick event too, and I agree with you about getting rid of the Q&A. Made me embarrassed for people. I did have a question, never asked, but I could have found Tolstaya and asked her the question later if I couldn't live without knowing the answer.

Without the Q&A though, we would have missed Rushdie's question on the relationship between Russian writers and writers from other former Soviet countries, and Tolstaya's truthful answer: "No one cares about them. Freedom means no one cares about you." Which I certainly thought gave us something to ponder, especially at an festival whose aim is to give more attention to neglected writers.

Jack Pendarvis

Gosh, aren't we being sort of hard on people? Isn't participating in a Q&A pretty much like "blogging" without a computer? It's the poor man's blog! No equipment necessary. Nothing against blogs, especially this one, which I read every day! Maybe I'm just mad at myself. I really need to stop posting comments on blogs.

Jack Pendarvis

I had some more interesting thoughts on the subject! Like, that one guy (above) says Q&As bring out the worst in people, but then he tells an awesome story about getting to eat smoked reindeer! And the next guy says he agrees that Q&As should be eliminated but goes on to cite a good Q and compelling A. Finally, what's the harm? Q&As don't bother anybody except some percentage of the tiny group of people in the room during a panel. Blogs, as far as I can tell, will still be around when the earth melts. Not that there's anything wrong with that! But hooray for the people and their desire to ask questions, or even to make some sort of connection deemed by others as sad or pitiful. Is there any other kind of connection? Yes, probably. Okay, no more posting comments for me!

tao lin

"...this one betrays the awful strain of cute that threatens to creep and poison the whole enterprise."

good job articulating that.

Coll B. Lue

Actually I'm a female, fair and square but I'm just promoting a talented writer friend's website, a good friend of Irving Layton, Leonard Cohen and Allen Ginsberg, to name but a few literary greats - the comments are extremely entertaining - tears are rolling down my cheeks for sheer brilliance!

Coll B. Lue

By the way, the comments were so good I missed out the most important part of my last comment, the 'smoked reindeer' part, which was something I bypassed, just didn't feel the urge to try it regardless of whether it tasted like rabbit or chicken I think he mentioned (not my cuppa somehow).

denise hamilton

Re stupid Q&A, Tod Goldberg has a handy solution to weed out two of the more inane questions authors get lobbed. I've paneled with him at LATFoB (it ain't really that bad, Mark, and often it's downright great) for several years and he always announces that two questions are off limits and will result in questioners getting violently wrestled out of the room by burly men with earpieces and sidearms:
"How did you get your agent?" and "Will you read my manuscript?"

Coll B. Lue

I can just imagine it - A would-be writer getting geared up for his/her big moment of being spotted as by a talent scout at such major events and hey presto like a magic wand and magic dust they get a publisher wanting to publish them just like that - if all things were so sugary and spiced etc...

Andrew Berardini

Whatever happened to your Believer vs. n+1 battle royal?

Andrew Berardini

Whatever happened to your Believer vs. n+1 battle royal?

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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.
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    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."