Baby Got Books

I’ve been a fan of Don Novello for a long time, and not just because he was born and raised in my hometown of Lorain, Ohio. I, like many of you, thought he was pretty darn cool before I even knew of his impressive origins. For a long time, I knew him solely as the character he created for Saturday Night Live, Father Guido Sarducci; but I somehow came to learn that he participated in multiple ways in all kinds of funny stuff, and so I had to do some digging to see what I could get my hands on.

In addition to recordings of some pretty hilarious stand-up comedy, what I came up with was The Lazlo Letters, a compilation of correspondence that was first published in 1977, but which contains letters spanning the period from 1973 to 1977. Novello’s idea, which he executed in spectacular fashion, was to write letters to various bigwigs from the world of politics, show business, and big business, playing the part of a loyal follower, concerned citizen, or huge fan, and trying to provoke a response.

The prose and punctuation he uses in his letters, in addition to the rather zany ideas presented by them, suggest that he is somewhat of a dimwit; nonetheless, in the interests of good public relations and nondiscrimination against knuckleheads, many of the folks he wrote to actually wrote back. The staffs of President Nixon and President Ford treated these letters as legitimate, and sent personalized responses back to him. Repeatedly.

The genius of this book doesn’t really lie in its content (although there are some pretty funny exchanges documented by these letters); rather, it lies in what Novello did, how he did it, and when he did it. This started over thirty-five years ago! He was writing on what I guess was a manual typewriter, and mailing letters out for ten cents. The time and effort needed to pull off a hoax like this was incredible. And it didn’t come with the sort of immediate gratification that pranking someone on the Internet can bring. While we take the Internet for granted in this day and age, Novello was working on this at a time when you had to work pretty hard to track down information. Even finding the name and address of someone he wanted to write to must have been a chore.

I applaud Mr. Novello, albeit it a couple of decades later than he deserves, for this effort. And now I think we can safely place him up on the pedestal with the other critically acclaimed writers originally hailing from Lorain, Ohio, such as Toni Morrison and . . . uhm . . . uh . . . let me get back to you on that one.

In a sure sign of our society’s ever decreasing literary standards, the editors of Blogged have decided that Baby Got Books is ranked #12 out of 1,144 blogs in the “general books” category.  We were assigned a score of 8.7 (out of 10) and the descriptor “great”.   We have no idea who these editors are nor why they are so confused.

Unfortunately, this one is not welcome.  The Wren’s Nest Blog reports that the Atlanta History Center has bought the Joel Chandler Harris home and is moving it to Buckhead!  Lain and Amelia, intern Eduardo, Miss Nanny, et al. are out of work.  This will not stand!

We can hardly contain our excitement here at BGB HQ, we’ve just leaned th

Last night severe storms and tornadoes hit Atlanta pretty hard.  We weren’t given much in the way of warning that all hell was going to break loose.  The storms destroyed areas uncomfortably close to Baby Got Books HQ.  In addition to pummeling downtown, the Cabbagetown neighborhood and parts of Grant Park took a beating, too. We’re fine, but still checking in with friends and neighbors.

Lain reports that The Wren’s Nest, very close to downtown, survived, too.

Crazy.

That’s the headline of this Today Show article about a 17-month old baby that can read.

From here on out, all memoirs will be considered bogus until proven otherwise.*

Exhibit A: Margaret B. Jones, author of the acclaimed memoir Love and Consequences, took her turn to tearfully admit that her story was bogus.  The book describes “her life as a half-white, half-Native American girl growing up in South Central Los Angeles as a foster child who ran drugs for members of the Bloods, an infamous gang. The author’s biography on the back flap says she graduated from the University of Oregon.”  Not so true.  The gig was up when her older sister called the publisher to tattle after seeing Jones’ (not her real name) picture in The New York Times.  Ouch.

Exhibit B: No one looks good in the story of the “I was raised by wolves during the Holocaust” debacle - In this week’s other bogus memoir saga.  The publisher apparently ignored her suspicions about the story until losing a breech of contract court case with the author to the tune of $30+ Million.  Then she began to have her doubts about the story.

* - With the exception of Dean Wareham’s Black Postcards.  I know that he was actually in the bands that he names in his upcoming rock memoir.  I confirmed that with my own eyes on various occasions.

Last weekend the NBA All-Star game was held in New Orleans.  It’s been a while since the national spotlight shined on New Orleans.  Heck, it has been too long since I’ve been there myself.  No matter where I may live, New Orleans will always be home.  I missed the festivities last weekend, so I was interested in checking out the “media reaction” to the weekend and the City’s progress.

First up, here’s the local flavor, courtesy of Chris Rose of the New Orleans Times-Picayune:

Maybe some folks are getting tired of the New Orleans self-love thing. Maybe some folks feel like they’re going to scream if they hear one more time how much more interesting this place is than anywhere else in America.  I’m not one of those people. And I don’t think anyone at the New Orleans Arena Sunday night was either…But they love it [New Orleans culture] all the same. They love us. Almost as much as we love us. And they’ll all be back, everyone of them, whoever “they” are. Because they have danced at the center of the universe.

Yeah you right! - as we say in NOLA.   Sure.  He’s biased.  Here’s Bill Simmons from ESPN:

They were happy to have us and we were happy to be there, and that’s what life is really about.  Did the weekend accomplish anything other than painting a few schools, planting a few gardens, raising some much-needed money and making the city feel good for a few days? I say yes. Everyone who traveled here for All-Star Weekend will think about returning someday, not because they feel bad, but because it’s New Orleans and it’s ready for us again. Skip your next Vegas trip and convince your friends to spend a wild weekend in the French Quarter. Don’t do it for charity, do it because it will be fun. And it will.

Start making your Jazz Fest plans now.

Phil Kloer gives BGB a shout out today in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s The Book Page blog. It’s not every day that we get a mention in the Big Media world, so thanks, Phil, for taking the time out to point people our way. Bonus:  We can use quotes from the post as blurbs, movie poster style.

The AJC says that Baby Got Books…

is “smart!!!”

“has good taste!!!!!”

is “a competitor!!!!”

“…just another spot where more people like to yammer about books!!!!!!”

That old adage about the physician who treats himself has a fool for a patient was TOTALLY pre-internet.  Things have been a little quiet here this week as I’ve been battling some mystery illness.  By typing my symptoms into the old computer, it appears that I’ve been battling SARS - if this top shelf medical site is to be believed.  Or else monkey pox.  Either way, with a FREE diagnosis in hand, things appear to be improving.

As reported literally everywhere, Dumbledore was gay. I can sense the right-wing anti-book contingent redoubling their library banning efforts as we speak. I’m sure that some media outlets reported the news in a responsible and non-sensational manner. My newspaper, on the other hand, decided to show a picture of Daniel Radcliffe (Harry) on its web site with the caption, “Guess which Potter character is gay!”

Book Ninja speculates about other upcoming revelations: “Hermione was actually an Ojibwe performance artist, Ron was a disenfranchised inner-city black youth, and Hagrid was a crippled Viet Nam vet living in a world he never made.”

There are lots of great things about living in Intown Atlanta (as opposed to the suburbs, where I grew up). If I had to choose the one best thing about living in Intown Atlanta, I would probably say it’s being able to load up on socks while riding MARTA to and from work. And if you happen to drive on Memorial Drive with any regularity, you don’t even have to ride MARTA to get your sock fix. You can buy 100 socks (50 pairs!) for the low, low price of $10 at one of the many parking-lot sock dealers that line the thoroughfare.

I always wondered who the Sock Mogul was behind those dealerships, and my curiosity was definitely piqued the day a man carrying a big box full of something entered my MARTA train car and announced, “I stopped smoking rocks and started selling socks!” How could I not buy some? And who was this guy?

The AJC solves the mystery.

I completely missed this.  Atlanta-based reporter Richard Fausset essentially blogged a day in the life of New Orleans for the LA Times — on Monday.   Great stuff.  The best way to read it is to click on the single page view and read from the bottom up - the way it was written.

With the approach of the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and the near destruction of New Orleans and much of the Gulf Coast, there’s been an uptick in news about the hometown:

• Critical Mass continues its Thinking About New Orleans series.
• The Guardian runs a similar account of the state of literature in Louisiana.
• Entertainment Weekly and R.E.M. team up on a video pairing Michael Stipe’s Katina photographs with the band’s “New Orleans Instrumental No. 1″ (Thanks for the tip Decatur Beth)
• Yesterday’s Wall Street Journal featured a page one article by my pal, Rick Brooks. It seems that on top of everything else, some New Orleans residents have to worry that someone will come along and knock their house down while they’re not paying attention. If you don’t have a subscription to the Journal, DangerBlong has posted the whole article to her blog.
• The New Orleans Musician’s Relief Fund is selling music downloads to raise money for their self-explanatory charity organization.

The New York Times Health Section reports on some unexpected benefits of reading. Researchers have found that good readers among a cohort of lead smelter workers suffered less severe neurological effects from lead exposure than their co-workers. From the article:

People who are good readers, generally a sign of better education, have been found in earlier studies to have better health. The presumption has been that this is because they can take better care of themselves or afford better food, housing and medical care.

But writing in the July 31 issue of Neurology, researchers said that in this case some smelter employees were protected not as a direct result of their reading but an indirect one. The years of reading, the study said, may have helped their brains develop more of what doctors call cognitive reserve.

Never feel bad about lounging pool side reading, when you could be doing something more productive. You’re working on your cognitive reserve. I’m thinking about laminating the article and carrying it around with me.

Here’s the story:  Over 2 1/2 years and 580 posts, I’ve written on this space under the name DJ Cayenne.  This may come as a shock to some, but that is not my real name.  When we started this site, it was initially read and written by only +/- 10 people.  We have all written under noms du web to keep our “real” worlds and blogging worlds separated. Looking back, I’m not sure why that was important.

For me, it’s become increasingly difficult and pointless to maintain separate identities.  As I’ve become more involved with the local scene and meet with real people, it seems to be increasingly silly.  So from here on out, I’ll be writing under my actual name, Tim. I’ll update our “about us” page soon with additional info.  That is all.

Now the world knows what Atlanta has known for years: if it’s uniquely crazy, Ted Turner must be involved.  Novelist Elizabeth Dewberry is leaving her husband (and novelist) Robert Olen Butler for Billionaire Turner.   Butler explained the situation to his graduate students in a truly bizarre e-mail that is now everywhere. (Thanks to Rick and Beth for the tip.)

I love the books. I love the music. When the worlds collide, it is like someone put chocolate in my peanut butter (or vice-versa). Clearly then, I was beside myself to hear the news that Joe Pernice of the The Pernice Brothers has signed a book deal with a division of Penguin Books. Pernice has previously written the fantastic novella Meat is Murder (rave review by me here). The news is doubly amazing, because the press release also announces that Joe is hard at work on the screenplay of Meat is Murder. A tip of the cap to Frank (TTT) who e-mailed me the scoop while driving his kids home from Disney World.

John Freeman, President of the National Book Critics’ Circle, wonders if The Sopranos have “whacked the American novel.”   He is heckled for this assessment here and here.  And then is heckled once more, with feeling, here.  I’d offer an opinion, but I am about to be buried alive under my “to be read” stack.

Speaking of book blogging monkeys, Wordsmiths’ Russ writes about the mixed feelings involved in welcoming people into your brand new book store on the National Book Critics Circle blog. He’s all famous now.

The Washington Post Book World has a rave review of The Wild Trees by Richard Preston. Of course, their review ran after BGB’s blogging monkeys RaeRae and Nitro commented on it here. I’m just sayin’… This ebola-free monkey just made the connection that the author, Richard Preston, is the same Richard Preston that wrote The Hot Zone. The man can drop some science on you.

McSweeney’s (not monkeys at all) have announced that their fire sale was a huge success. I can’t find a link, but a recent McSweeney’s newsletter says:

In the past ten days, thousands of you have visited, shopped, bid, and bugged your friends to follow suit. From the first morning of the sale, we’ve been mindboggled by your response — the enthusiasm, the encouragement, the stern commands to persevere. We’ve been sitting in our office all these days, emboldened and so happy, sharing with each other each kind note, each crazy order and new auction item, cheering at the end of each day when we tally up.

You’ve made a very real difference: because of your incredible response, McSweeney’s isn’t going anywhere. We’re sticking around as long as you’ll have us. The ship is damp but afloat, sails full, jib doing whatever the jib is supposed to do, and we’re getting back to work. (For last-minute shoppers, we’ll keep this sale going through the weekend, and the auction still includes pieces from Art Spiegelman, John Hodgman, David Foster Wallace, and Miranda July.)

The J.T. Leroy court case verdict is in. That was quick. Where were the weeks’ worth of testimony. I haven’t even had time to learn the judge’s name on E! Our legal monkeys have explained the verdict to me this way: if you sign a contract with a fake name, you don’t get to keep the real money. Galley Cat wonders if the verdict sets a bad precedent.

The feel good hit of the summer: The NYT drops in on a Long Island book club that has been meeting for about 50 years. Ike was President when they started.