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October 28, 2008

Comments

Jeremy Hatch

As a resident of San Francisco and sometime reader of the SF Chronicle (which as you well know, recently bought out its dedicated book section staff) I can testify that this is like ripping off a BandAid. It hurts for a second, but it was just a matter of time before it had to come off.

I seriously doubt that book reviews are even going to exist in any daily newspaper, or even on daily news websites, in 10-15 years. You may have noticed that even the New York Times Book Review has grown increasingly lame over the past year or two. I've more or less stopped reading it, personally. Frankly, I get more out of their podcast.

I'm pretty certain that the future of casual reviewing is with book blogs like yours, and for readers less dedicated, with general arts & culture sites like NPR, or KQED up here in SF. The future of serious criticism is with perhaps some 20 magazines and quarterlies (you know them) and with websites devoted to it, like The Quarterly Conversation.

Jacob Silverman

The LA Times decline is infuriating and frustrating. From what I've read, the paper isn't doing *that* badly, but Sam Zell's highly leveraged purchase of the paper (and Tribune Co.) has forced him to make huge cuts. Can someone already step up and buy back the LA Times from Zell, someone like Eli Broad or David Geffen, an LA native who could actually support -- financially and otherwise -- this recently great paper? It's sad to watch what's happening over there.

K

But then who would tell me how to vote? Seriously, who can follow superior court judge races?

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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.
  • 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."