A recent essay in the New York Times suggested that a woman was trying to justify her recent dumping of some guy by saying "Can you believe it? He hadn't even heard of Pushkin!", vainly attempting to use literary taste as a measure of compatibility.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/30/books/review/Donadio-t.html?ex=1207627200&en=508fc64c5777d5b0&ei=5070&emc=eta1
If this were truly the measure, I would be a virgin. I am decidedly not.
I have never seen a man actually finish a book. I've heard many TALK about books; one ex TALKED about his book irritatingly and incesssantly before falling into a Van Winkle slumber. "Oh my god this is the BEST book I've ever read!" he'd say as I was trying to read my own. "Best! Oh wow this is funny can I read it to you?!" "The insights! SO right ON!" .... Thunk. End of. No more need of the best book of his life. Ever.
Another ex looked very bookish, being tall and slim with that sort of schoolboy style and the narrow glasses all the young men seem to wear. We melded our bookshelves briefly before he moved back out, so I knew he'd at least made a stab at purchasing books but to my best recollection I remember the sound of hockey games on the television and much discussion about movies but, again, no books.
In fairness I have been known to fake book knowledge as well, much like the time I waxed poetic about the crazy filmography and use of colour in Zukerbaby, obviously a German flick, while talking to one of my country's biggest theatre impressarios at a party. I'd seen the trailer and extrapolated -- I don't think he'd gone much further either.
So while I can CALL something "Dickensian" and while I do love every word I've read of Great Expectations and even today referred to Havana as "Miss Havisham's city", I have never completed a Dickens novel. Proust has something to do with remembering a pastry. Mrs. Dalloway did a few things one day, Ulysses and Odysseus are the same guy, and I once had to ask the spelling of Sissinghurst when taking a recommendation for a good florist. We all do it. Fake it I mean.
Only in at least this ONE instance, the bigger fakers are men.
Bear's Hair
(c) Julie Jenkinson
Rant
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How not to look sneaky
When I tiptoed around you said I just looked plain sneaky so I went ahead and bit off most of my nails and that seemed to help in some ways. ©Julie Jenkinson
Bubbles - found on The Sartorialist
Says Sart: I was flipping through a new Helen Levitt Book at The Strand yesterday and fell in love with this photo.
Bear
Nice doggie all dressed up
still kicking against the pricks
Different drummers
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AGent - Isn't he lovely??
The Sartorialist, The Artist
just a taste of what you'll find on this terrific blog
About Me
- tn
- Welcome to the new middle ages. "New" because middle age hits you just when you think you've got it all figured out and then shows you that you do not. It's been called the age of being invisible and if so, it is also the age of silence. Well no more! Here is where the discussion ensues. Welcome.
4 comments:
The bedside table is the litmus test, I think. (Although I've occasionally wondered if people do a little editing if there is a chance of company coming over...) Here's a question: what would be a deal-breaker to find on the nightstand? NYT would suggest Ayn Rand triggers the flight reflex, and I'd have to agree. Pet Sematary? Harlequin Presents? Tom Clancy? It's a thin line, 'cause a big pile of Doris Kearns Goodwin and Halberstam doesn't tell you much either (except that you may have hooked up with either Paul Begala or Sarah Vowell, which is always good to detect early.) Who wouldn't fake a migraine upon discovering a spine-cracked stack of Dragonriders of Pern?
Michael T brings up a VERY good point. I once knew a woman, a high-powered brilliant internationally successful fashion retailer who is a tiny bit famous, who "merchandised" her bedside table while wooing my odd-duck English professor friend. He specialized in PoMo (has tattoo sporting same, thinks it's cool and witty) so had stacked up what some hapless bookstore clerk suggested would fit. Foucault and stuff I think, not sure, can't stand the arrogance of PoMo. Anyway, merchandising in this instance didn't lead to the big payoff she was looking for, as she could not answer even ONE quick q about anything within the books.
But to return to my earlier premise...there may be BOOKS on the bedside table, heaven knows I've seen them, but that is different from reading. That said, to at least have chosen the right stuff is saying something....
I feel exposed. I have 12 books stacked on my bedside table. I have successfully completed one chapter of each. I am about to add a thirteenth. When I finish a chapter I will have read 13 chapters. That's a book isn't it?
TV Guide is the only real bedside deal-breaker.
V
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