[Note: Movable Snipe is a week-long feature wherein two writers read and evaluate five blogs, sending each other one letter a day. This week's Snipers are Michael Helke and Fiona Maazel. Michael's first letter can be accessed here; Fiona's response to it, here. Day Two: Michael; Fiona. Day Three: Fiona; Michael. Day Four: Michael; Fiona.]

Hi, Michael. By now, it should be evident that I don’t read blogs much. I have certainly never read as many or as much as I have this week. It’s been sort of fascinating. One tends to forget how much is going on out there. I have been chastened by the experience. I also realized that I do, indeed, know who Philip Rieff is, but that out of context, all this stuff just comes at me like unorganized data I cannot process.

Indie Presses Save LiteratureI just noticed on Elegant Variation mention of Dzanc Books and their first two titles. I’d never heard of them—which says nothing—but I was excited about what they are publishing. For one, the indie presses are keeping literature alive. They are publishing the stuff that’s too risky for most of the big houses—and by too risky I mean too weird and thus unpalatable to the majority of readers out there. I’m not trying to be a snob, it’s just that most people don’t know what to do with novelty. Because if you can’t turn it into a movie, what have you? I like that Dzanc quotes Gary Lutz and Brian Evenson because when you get endorsements from writers like these, and when you publicize them, you are pretty much saying: We are the real deal. And it’s true, they are.

Apropos the business of the good childhood, here comes the Netherlands. Crooked Timber reports UNICEF’s findings that the Dutch excel when it comes to the well-being of kids. Who doesn’t excel? We don’t, of course. The United Kingdom, too. There follows a paean to the Netherlands that has me wanting to immigrate and then an anti-paean that’s making me feel better about where I am, should I ever manage to have kid of my own.

Professor of Media Studies Jodi Dean: Her website, anyway (who says Crooked Timber's run by stuffed-shirts?)This is what I like about Crooked Timber—they aren’t so bad at flipping the coin, despite the overall lefty bias of the thing. What I don’t like is how self-referential some of the posts are. Like that bit about Jodi Dean and formal modeling; not only is Dean’s post unintelligible, but so is the discussion that follows, if only because this guy assumes we know something about formal modeling beyond the obvious. I suppose most people who regularly read this blog do know about such matters. Me? I’m done. Can’t say the same of Drezner who, apparently, reads Crooked Timber with regularity.

I wanted to watch his bloggingheads tv thing, but I guess I need some intel-based mac plugin. Worth the trouble? No. Maybe I should just read his new book, which looks hot.

Richard Feynman on 3 Quarks: most satisfying. Likewise the snippets from the Orr/Dennett smackdown. It’s getting personal. By time it’s over, they will have long departed from debate over The God Delusion. Did you read The God Delusion? It’s on my pile, just below Anna Karenina, but above Catch-22. Props to 3 Quarks: I learned more from reading the site this week than I have in months.

Unfortunately, I also learned one great way not to get any work done is to read the aforementioned. I have been so unproductive! It’s a little depressing. And when depressed, instead of taking a walk or reading a book, I’ve gone to the Nerve Scanner. Today’s array? A clip from the startlingly unfunny “The Half-hour News Hour,” evidence that John Mayer looks like Edward Scissorhands, and a posing of the age-old question: is Vladimir Putin looker or loser? In short, what 3 Quarks inspires—brain activity, I guess—the Scanner destroys.

I’m signing off, Michael. It’s been fun corresponding with you. Maybe when we meet in the flesh, we can talk cupcakes.

Cheers,

fiona

[Note: Movable Snipe is a week-long feature wherein two writers read and evaluate five blogs, sending each other one letter a day. This week's Snipers are Michael Helke and Fiona Maazel. Michael's first letter can be accessed here; Fiona's response to it, here. Day Two: Michael; Fiona. Day Three: Fiona; Michael. Day Four: Michael.] 

Happy VD, Helke. I once wrote a song called “Immaculate VD” for a friend of mine. “Immaculate VD is what she had, woke up one day predictably sad…” And so on. Awful stuff. But oh, the memories.

Nobelist Dissident: Orhan PamukYou know, I was thinking about the anniversary of the fatwa against Rushdie today. 3 Quarks didn’t even have to remind me. My love life is such that this is the sort of thing I associate with 2.14. Rushdie, on the other hand, has little to complain about in this department. Especially since Turkey is the new Iran when it comes to harassing or, I suppose, killing dissident writers, e.g. Ömer Asan, Elif Shafak, and Orhan Pamuk, who, Elegant Variation tells us, has immigrated to the U.S. To New York, in fact. Don’t you feel like there’s a neighborhood bar somewhere in this story? If your country wants to kill you, dollar beers at the Beekman Arms.

Apropos Dawkins on 3 Quarks, I wonder what he’d say about this Dr. Ross fellow who, according to the NYT, is a “young earth creationist” cum paleontologist who dates the earth back 10, 000 years or 65 million, depending on which hat he’s wearing. I cannot understand this at all. The man’s a scientist working with fossils and data who somehow disbelieves the material he works with all day? Dawkins would probably call him a fool. Have you ever seen the Atheism Tapes? A bunch of interviews with renown atheists, Dawkins and Arthur Miller, among them, conducted by the somewhat windy but always fascinating Jonathan Miller? I recommend them, if they slipped your radar.

As for Drezner and the Center for American Progress’s poll, what do you expect? No conservative wants to hear that even his campadres are jumping ship. I checked the list of participants and while I didn’t recognize a lot of the names—besides Drezner, of course—I did notice the bit where the CAP asked the participants to characterize their bias. I can only assume the self-proclaimed conservatives are actual conservatives, not liberals hellbent on infiltrating the CAP’s poll. On a side note, didn’t that graphic of the poll results seem sort of fancy for Drezner? Ugliest site ever, but nice graph!

On Crooked Timber—these people are really starting to scare me. Why do they all know so much about the American Maoist Movement? And why do I know so little? I went to school with one of the Weathermen and I still know less than these people. What the hell is the Klonskyite CP(M-L)? The farther along I got in the comments, the more my eyes glazed over. I feel like this is a self-indictment, though I am trying hard to make it their fault.

Thank God for the Scanner! I’m not reading Nerve for the content—sorry, Waters—I’m just in it for the laughs. That period lesbian song from Buffy they featured today? Hilarious. She levitates. She cums. She cums under a “Willow” tree. Stop reading the main pages, Helke, and just go to the Scanner.

She went to parties, but grief accrued
Immaculate VD is solitude.

G’night.

f.

[Note: Movable Snipe is a week-long feature wherein two writers read and evaluate five blogs, sending each other one letter a day. This week's Snipers are Michael Helke and Fiona Maazel. Michael's first letter can be accessed here; Fiona's response to it, here. Day Two: Michael; Fiona.]

We Love You Guys: The Saudis do Philo-Americanism right?

Hey, Michael. You read the paper today? At Yaddo, there’s always much talk about which house gets the Times and how best to leave it for others once you are done. Me, I read it online. And today I was reading about Iran—Iran is supplying weapons to the insurgency, here is the evidence, here are the serials—let’s start another war. Because that’s what this is, right? Prelude to war? Or maybe I’m just a cynic. 

Yes, yes I am. And so is our good man Drezner. His bit on Barbara’s Slavin’s USA Today piece—the Saudis love us and aren’t afraid to say so!—made me laugh.

I mean, I had to read it a couple times because there’s something weirdly incoherent about the man’s prose style, but once I got with it—the ultimate endorsement of pleonasm—I laughed. He’s a cynic. So the Saudis make nice with us, so what? It’s only a gesture. Or: they’re just getting in bed with the winning side. Or: they’re getting in bed with the lesser evil. We’re doing good! We suck. You get the feeling he thinks we suck. And he’s right. Especially now that Bush wants to bleed even more money from the arts, ostensibly to fund his New War. Because when I need money, the first place I turn is the arts. Jeeze. Does anyone read anymore? I’m serious.

Tonight at dinner, someone was telling me the average novel sells 4-6 thousand copies. How grim. Grimmer still is that a lot of these novels are kick-ass. Collections of short fiction, too. Like The Dead Fish Museum by Charlie D’Ambrosio. Such a good book. Featured on Elegant Variation, which is always stumping for books people are not reading but should. It’s depressing. Sarvas has impeccable taste, and just not enough people are caring. Course, I think I liked the site better before he wrote up what you and I are doing. We’re reviewing blogs? I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing, and now I feel like a lowlife for it. I thought we were just talking about stuff of interest. 

Does the Koran Endorse Bloodshed and Martyrdom?E.G. Hooray for David Markson! I didn’t know some of his early books were hopping back into print until the EV told me. Need book news? Go to the EV. Need to save your life? Not a bad place to start. I saw Markson recently, in New York, and we talked about whether the Koran actually endorses bloodshed and martyrdom, which I rather think it does, though in the same way the New Testament sees Jesus encourage everyone to kill the Jews. I like how in New York there’s such a concentration of writers and artists, you can actually run into one of them and get talking, spontaneously, about bloodshed. I appreciate the city, but I can’t really deal with these bromides about what is New York and who’s got the right to call a spade, and so on.

I’ve been reading 3 Quarks and I like these guys, but there’s still got to be something else to write about. Fuck you, Adam Gopnik? Should talk of New York, in all its irascible and protean glory, really incite this kind of passion? I sort of prefer ye old Crooked Timber. For one, it’s got eye appeal. I’m all about the serif font and feng shui arrangement of text, and the CT pleases me well. Plus they are writing about things that are a little off the beaten path. 

Putin on election monitoring? Most interesting. I have been waiting for him to rewrite the constitution so he can be reelected, but I see that’s not happening. I guess he’s going to take over a large conglomerate someplace, from which he can oversee illegal elections in neighboring countries.

FemBot: Liz Wurtzel's twins aren't nearly as versatileNext post: embodied energy. What the hell is that? I have to go to some other website to read about this thing—energy consumed in creating one unit of product X, wha?—and then back to the CT to read more? I don’t have time for this. Do you have time for this?

Part of what stuns me about the ubiquity of blogging is that people find the time a) to post and b) to read. My life is replete with niggling obligations and tedium—it’s not like I’m saving the world instead of blogging—but still, I have scant room in the day for all this. How do other people manage? My best experience of the Internet continues to be the piffle collected on Nerve’s web trawl. Just a bunch of stupid shit to brighten my day.

I am still looking at the kangaroo man, though he’s old news. He’s been surpassed by eleven gems of culture, like Christina Ricci’s retractable breasts.  Wish mine could do that.

F. 

 [Note: Movable Snipe is a week-long feature wherein two writers read and evaluate five blogs, sending each other one letter a day. This week's Snipers are Michael Helke and Fiona Maazel. Michael's first letter can be accessed here; Fiona's response to it, here. Day Two: Michael.]

The -Ist Factor: Late 90's novels end with the same insufferable suffix

Hey, Michael. I did just read that anonymous response to my letter. But since I’m so vapid and adolescent, I can’t muster the emotional wherewithal to care.

Gerry Adams: PW called A Farther Shore “suspenseful, biased, subversive, blunt and often funny.” The NYTBR said of Before the Dawn, “There are frequent flashes of good writing.” Some guy said of Cage Eleven, “I don't believe a terrorist, with a hatred of all things British will give a honest account of the UK justice system.” Adams has written nine books. Is this funny about, uh, Sin and Cessation? Yes. Yes, it is. Dear Anonymous: for more enlightening news about what goes on in the world of literature, do visit The Elegant Variation.

I’m pretty interested in this stuff about the good childhood, too. Crooked Timber is plugging a symposium on the topic, which seems just interesting enough to excuse the soporific and, I guess, pointedly derivative title of the event. The good soldier, the good daughter, I guess such titles are in vogue, sort of like the ubiquity of the “ist” suffix in novel titles of the late nineties. The Archivist, The Intuitionist, et al. Just read Sally Schrag’s 2-page précis, which you can download off the site. It’s compelling. Is a good childhood middle-class? Is that what the phrase means? Hey, Michael, did you have a middle-class childhood? Was it good? Mine was not so middle-class, not at all, and—oh, wait, I am being pithy again. Alas.

Here’s the thing I can’t handle about 3 Quarks Daily: it makes me feel stupid. Dear Anonymous: You’re right, I am stupid. Certainly unversed in a lot of what 3 Quarks thinks I should know, or rather, presumes I should know. This bit about Philip Rieff is apropos what, exactly? And who the hell is Philip Rieff? And why are none of these book titles in italics? I’m supposed to know Philipic (sic) Fellow Teachers is a book? And why is this post lifted from this month’s Book Forum with no attribution? I am totally confused.

So much so that I have no energy left to talk N. Korea except to say that Drezner is appropriately skeptical about today’s agreement with N. Korea. Kim Jong-Il is, I think, quite mad. I am simply waiting for him and Ahmadinejad to join forces and effect Holocaust. Oh, Anonymous, I almost forgot! For a more sober and conservative—and considerably less frivolous—discussion about Korea’s nonproliferation agreement, see Drezner.

Michael, I have to split. Will save delights arrayed by Nerve for later.

Cheers,

Fiona

[Note: Movable Snipe is a week-long feature wherein two writers read and evaluate five blogs, sending each other one letter a day. This week's Snipers are Michael Helke and Fiona Maazel. Michael Helke's first letter can be accessed here.]

Forward for the Pistons: Clive JamesYo, Michael. Or Helke, I guess. Do people call you Helke? Some people call me Fi, which is an unfortunate diminutive, given the odds that one Fi deserves another, as in Fi-Fi, though I guess the renown agent Fifi Oscard manages with it just fine. Brrr, it’s cold. I’m up at Yaddo at the moment, and Yaddo is great, barring your first-night dinner when you have to chat with strangers who are, in all likelihood, smarter and more accomplished than you.

Luckily, I got here the day after Anna Nicole Smith died. Celebrity death brings people together. We were all wanting to know how she went. None of us were moved. That paragraph where Orwell talks about discrepant responses to tragedy? He was moved—slayed—by news of the Titanic’s demise, and finding it ironic that events of greater significance and cataclysm had left him cold. Not so much here. Sure, that guy who runs her fansite is wrecked, but I’m guessing most people are not losing their lunch over it. But then most people in this country are not losing their lunch over North Korea, either, and them’s fighting words since half the people in North Korea have not eaten lunch since 1954.

You see this stuff on Drezner about Korea’s revising its admittedly half-assed commitment to nuclear nonproliferation? This guy’s blog scares the crap out of me. Except for that he got Sox tickets. Or that he’s Jewtalking about cheap tickets alongside a post about North Korea blowing up the world.

Do we know yet how ANS died? Interesting that you mention Primo Levi since I was just talking to a friend about people who survive unspeakable horrors only to die prematurely. Did Levi kill himself? Some think he did. Same with Sebald. Did ANS? After all that? Why O.D. now? Post-partum? Enough is enough? You shouldn’t struggle with drug abuse and die. If you’re gonna die, anyway, you should just give into it. I’m not being cynical, either. One of the worst things for an addict struggling to recover is to die on drugs. Wait, I’m getting sad about her death, oh no!

Kismet: You’re talking Paris Review, Gourevitch is en route to Yaddo, I hear, and the excellent Mark Sarvas is stumping for TPR’s new compendium of interviews. I miss George. And yeah, I heard about his dirty novel. But I think it’s apocryphal. Still, the man got around. He was good friends with the Hef. Took me to the mansion, once. There were peacocks. And a small arcade with video games and padded rooms for purposes illicit and randy. Randy! No one has ever seen George’s dirty book, far as I know. But then I know little. Like: Clive James. Have I ever ready any Clive James? Nope. Did I think he was a basketball player before you wrote me? Could be. Did I read the lead post on Crooked Timber about all the books Maria has read since January 1 and despair?

Who is this Maria? Oh, wait, I see who she is. She’s hot. She’s up on Disraeli and Gladstone. I think I just finished Spawn 11. Happily, I just came across mention on 3 Quarks Daily of Pierre Baynard’s prophylactic, How to Talk About Books that You Haven’t Read. Phew. Now I can sleep easy. Thanks, 3 Quarks! Hey, the etymology of the name of this website is fancy. "Three quarks for Muster Mark!" You know, there used to be a bar by George P’s house called Finnegan’s Wake. George persuaded them to get the name right. And they did. They actually changed the name.

Which brings me to the more important matter of things you should not have read, ever, chief among them my stupid piece about pornography. Please take note of the date on that thing. 1998, maybe. Whenever I go on a blind date—and I’ve been on several—the guy always Googles me first, reads the thing on porn and sees fit to bring it up. Where was Clive James, center for the Heat, when I needed him? And where is he now?

I think the work I’m attempting at the moment sucks. I should probably just go find this freakish kangaroo man and inbreed. Wow, is he freakish. He’s featured on Nerve’s roundup of weird shit online. At least I think that’s what’s happening on this website. Hard to say. Between the sans-serif jamboree and my new kangaroo boyfriend, I just can’t tell what’s happening anymore. Cheer me up, Michael. F.