Skip to content

Monday Time Wasting 6/30

Its been a while, but here’s the return of links to everything under the sun. Some are old and have nothing to do with DC at all, but just pretend.

The Writer’s Center in Bethesda has a blog now.

Bethanne Patrick over at Author! Author! has chosen Johnathan Miles’ Dear American Airlines as her Book of the Week pick.

WaPo’s Juilet Wittman gives a roundup of recently-released memoirs.

GalleyCat has a quick recap of Opium Magazine’s “Literary Death Match”.

Gene Weingarten discovers that his Pultizer for Originality might be a misnomer.

Lifehacker compiled and ranked reader feedback on “Books That Changed Your Lives.” (Insert Ayn Rand joke here.)

This is a little old, but Dan Zak over at WaPo’s Sunday Source has some thoughts on classic summer reads.

I suggest everyone take a listen to this recent episode of Fresh Air  or watch this video, in which neurologist Jill Bolte Taylor discusses the basis of her new memoir “My Stroke of Insight,” in which she makes herself the subject of an experimental study on strokes. It pretty much blew my mind grapes.

Update: unfortunately, it looks like Olssson’s Books is going belly up.

And finally, from McSweeney’s most recent update on their Dispatches from the Anacostia series:

At 10 minutes before the hour, Elaya calls. She’s running just 10 minutes or so late, and is bringing her “sister” and her “sister”’s 3-month-old baby. “We’ll wait,” I tell her. Ten minutes is no big deal after all these months.

At a quarter past the hour, I am still standing alone outside the Target. On this Memorial Day weekend, the store’s entrance and the sidewalk are crowded with families, workers on cigarette breaks, and a security guard who comes up to me with a big smile.

“You’re still here?” he asks. I shake my head, confused. Still? Fifteen minutes is nothing in the lives of the dispatch kids. Then he realizes he’s mistaken me for another woman, who, earlier, had waited a whopping hour before giving up and going home. I shake my head again. No, that’d never be me.

In Which the Gmail Sponsored Link Preys on Certain Levels of Hidden Desperation I Was Unaware Existed

bookyear.jpg

People I Know Week: Daynah Burnett vs. Zeitgeist

Just in case you haven’t been keeping up, this week is People I Know Week. The reason? This blog–which is meant, in part, to call attention to DC-area writer types–was in danger of becoming the Rion Scott/Joe Hall/Matt Klam/Ryan Call show. So just like when the songs on my iPod have become a little too familiar, I’m infusing some fresh, new blood on to this blog, and profiling people I know who do good work, in hopes of either fostering a community or making myself feel somehow important for knowing them. So far we’ve had Brian Brodeur and Jennifer Janisch.

Here’s another: Daynah Burnett.

Daynah BurnettI’m realizing I have a skinny roster of productive DC acquaintances not because I don’t know many. Its because in several cases, these people have left the DC area for what they think are greener pastures. That’s the case with Daynah, an essayist/critic who split DC in late 2007 to become a doctor of horror films, but not before leaving behind a trail of smart, distinctive work that (a) spans genres, (b) takes everything about as serious as it deserves to be taken, and (c) proves that bravery, wit and grace not only can, but *should* occupy the same space at once.

While here, Daynah published a strong handful of crisp personal essays in magazines and journals like Hip Mama, Bitch, and Mortar & Pestle (where she wrote a melancholy meditation on her “poor boobies”). But it’s been her recent work as a TV and film critic at PopMatters that’s put a nice polish on a website that has some shitty writing, and given the  tired, snarky art of reviews a refreshing voice that asks honest, unexpected questions about what we watch and what, exactly, its doing to us.

(Continued)

People I Know Week: What are you doing!?

This week, I’ve decided, is People I Know Week. After last week’s call to my DC-area acquaintances to do more things, I’ve been reminded by some that they actually have been. So I’m devoting this week (or what’s left in it) to my friends’ accomplishments, in hopes of either fostering a community or making myself feel somehow important for knowing these people.

Which brings me to Jennifer Ann Janisch, a tremendous essayist who happens to be local. Despite the fact that she’s mid-way through an MFA program that can be pretty clueless about how to publish, over the last few months, she’s reeled out a few publications, all of which deserve a look. From what I can tell, developing young essayists generally fall into one of three categories: (1) voice-driven literary comedians or monologue-ists, (2) bleed-on-the page confessionalists, and (3) info-journalists who carve out poetic insight from history, religious studies, etc. (Their favorite writers are usually Michael Pollan, Anne Fadiman, or Annie Dillard).

All three types of writers have their plusses and minuses, but Jennifer’s somehow able to conjure and combine the best features of each. Example: I once saw her read a hilarious piece about her Italian family’s poker game ritual while holding up signs–Subterranean Homesick Blues-like–to translate the both the meanings and cultural contexts of the Italian obscenities that flew from her aunts’ and uncles’ mouths over the course of a single game of Texas Hold ‘Em.

(Continued)

People I Know Week: Other Latitudes is Out

In light of last week’s call to people I know to do something newsworthy, I’m very pleased to announce that DC-area poet and person I know Brian Brodeur’s excellent debut collection, “Other Latitudes”, is available for purchase. The collection comes as a result of Brodeur winning the 2007 Akron Poetry Prize. Here is a description:

Attempting to repair the fissures of everyday life, Brian Brodeur negotiates the psychological distances between desire and disgust, humor and catastrophe, banality and dream. The poems of Other Latitudes begin in the realm of personal experience, and expand into larger territories of cultural narcissism and political blindness. These poems meditate on the tenuous relationship between artist and subject, the curiosities of self-inflicted wounds, and the presence of hope in a landscape that is intrinsically scarred. Brodeur’s debut illustrates the conflict between inner lives and their outward appearances, with an eye turned to the unforgiving natural world.

The best way I can describe Brodeur’s work is that it’s compulsively readable. His language is precise but forthright, with a clear vision and a crisp voice that engages with humor, drama, and irreverence honestly, with zero pretense. (Stephen Dunn, Carolyn Forche, and Eric Pankey explain this better in the blurbs.) My favorite of his poems, for instance, features a one-hundred percent blind man who–with the touching help of his wife–spends his weekends actually rifle-hunting for deer. Also, he is not Canadian, which is what I originally thought before I met the guy.

All of this is to say: buy the book. You can read some of Brodeur’s work here, and you can buy Other Latitudes here.

University of Akron Press: Other Latitudes by Brian Brodeur (link)