Colin & the Books

Faces I don't want to see more of

2008-02-18T03:23:00.003-05:00

If there is one thing that will deter me from buying a book it would be Glenn Beck’s mug. The only face more frustrating is Isiah Thomas’s sarcastic grin after another Knick’s loss.

(No info provided; I will not help anyone get this book.)

The real reason I am posting tonight is because I want everyone to listen to MIA’s “Paper Planes.” Great song.

Just finished yet another outline of screenplay. Brain is hurting.

Good Ol' Fashion Trainspotting

2007-10-14T18:59:00.001-04:00

It’s nice seeing a non-fiction biography that isn’t a photograph of the subject alone. The Heroin Diaries gives us more than just a stale image of Nikki Sixx, we are sent presented with images that are part of the world of our protagonist. I am also happy to see that the characters of the words aren’t made up from a predetermined font set—something like that wouldn’t work with this cover. Instead the scribbles and etches make for a richer preview of the topic.

The Herion Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star
By Nikki Sixx with Ian Gitting
Simon & Schuster

A little nostalgia on a warm autumn night

2007-09-26T19:06:00.000-04:00

This cover is great because it has completely captured the look of a novelty map found in vacation areas—big drawings denoting nearby restaurants and in the background a large arrow pointing to “I-95” as if nothing else existed around these spots. I don’t intend to read this book but I would love to hold a copy in my hands. I have this dream that it would have a texture more akin to a brown paper bag than contemporary book covers.

Pontoon: A Novel of Lake Wobegon
By Garrison Keillor
Viking Press

Sheep Story

2007-09-10T15:19:00.000-04:00

Three Bags Full has an interesting cover. I think the subtitle alone would grab my attention—A Sheep Detective Story. The use of primary colors combined with the stark silhouettes makes this cover rather enticing. I was unsure about the numbering until I saw the back cover and what it stated about each character. The cover seems playful enough but I’ve read that some reviews that state the book becomes rather dark and serious towards the end. A darker more sinister cover just wouldn’t do this book justice methinks.

Three Bags Full: A Sheep Detective Story
by Leonie Swann
Flying Dolphin Press

Back Cover:

Compared to the UK cover I think my preference would be obvious. Yours?

I just found the German covers with the original title Glennkill which doubles as the setting of the mystery. These are remarkably fun. I need to get this book.

Giving Up

2007-09-04T23:26:00.000-04:00

“Giving” has one of those covers that entices not one of my aesthetic senses. I do understand that this book will probably make Knopf a boat-load of money but its design offers only moneymaking elements—the author’s name. I can’t say much about this because there isn’t much to work with. The back cover apparently has one of those wonderful pictures of Bill Clinton smiling among a group of cheery poverty-stricken people. That might be nice.

Giving: How each of us can change the world
Bill Clinton
Knopf

And the one stylistic choice, those blue dividers, I can’t say they are necessary.

Any takers?

And I'm Back

2007-08-27T17:20:00.000-04:00

Neil Strauss’s The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists has a simple, perfect cover. There would be no other design befitting for a book such as this this. The black with gold font reminds me of a rule book for some debonair event. The silhouettes are a nice touch—though some of them are bit too provocative and take away from the suave elegance of the cover. The cover just wouldn’t be the same without these images though.

The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists
By Neil Strauss
HarperCollins
Design by Richard Ljoenes

I definitely want to give this work a gander. From what I hear Strauss does not see himself as the best looking type of guy. Perhaps there is hope for all men.

American Pastoral

2007-08-12T12:37:00.000-04:00

American Pastoral was not my favorite book. During my on going quest to find the "Great American Novel" Philip Roth’s Pulitzer Prize winner was supposed to make a run at the title—it failed to deliver. Let’s look at the book I read.

American Pastoral
By Philip Roth
Cover Design and Photograph by gray318
Vintage International

I enjoy what Vintage has done with Philip Roth’s collection. I think the stark colors along with the thematic picture towards the bottom have really created an eye-catching set of works. The font, however, is rather plain and I am not sure if that really adds anything to the novel. The caps just leave the center of the cover rather bleak but in a way powerful—I blame the imprint. The broken frame is an obvious choice for American Pastoral but it is also the best.

The other covers for this title just don’t seem to capture what happens to Levov’s as well as this one. Using a picture of a family is just not enough and the torn American flag version just seems to miss where the true element of the story lies.

Any takers?

The Sal My Pal Dilemma

2007-08-03T00:42:00.000-04:00

After years of discussing book cover art, Sal and I finally seem to have a forum for our arguments. We’ve squabbled over the use of minimalism and its merits; its best use in the American cover of J.M. Coetzee’s “Disgrace.” It’s mainly been his reluctance for simplicity against my affinity towards empty space.

Seeing as he and I have always been advocates for well thought out covers that are masterfully executed—it’s safe to say we both despise film poster covers for novels—it seems best that I present a cover he suggested to me:

The Omnivore’s Dilemma
Author: Michael Pollan
Designer: Darren Hagger
Photographer: Hans Gissinger

As an avid photographer, it’s ironic that I don’t like covers consisting solely of a single photograph. I need stylization, thought—something that doesn’t look like it was ripped from a stock-photo bin. The color scheme is interesting. It’s drab and the still life is rather unappetizing but I think those points are reflective of the themes of the work. I commend those choices.

The fonts were well executed too. For a small amount of words, they seem to balance large caps, italics, and regular fonts in a good way. The changes don’t distract from the words on the cover.

I believe Sal was reading the hardbound print of Pollan’s work. I am not a fan of hardbacks in general—I enjoy a good flexible cover, preferably one that can fit in my back pocket—but the gold spine makes the whole work look elegant and would add a touch of class to a bookshelf. I wish Barnes and Noble could show me a picture of the book without a jacket on it.

Any takers?

Side Note: Michael Pollan reminds me of Michael Palin and I cannot help but think the title “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” would have only made for a hilarious sketch on Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

Set a New Course

2007-07-31T21:51:00.000-04:00

Cover design has always been a hobby of mine. By hobby I do mean I am intrigued by them and I often find myself judging book covers (not books by their covers). Recently I've learned that cover art is also of interest to many other readers, writers, artists, businessmen, umpires, etc. I was informed of this site, which is quite interesting, and of this site, which is equally thought provoking.

New plan: Respond to book covers.

I won't make promises like I'll do this daily, but I can at least try to update semi-frequently. Hell, just a cover for others to respond to might make for interesting conversation. I am going to try to shy away from looking at covers of books I enjoy and take a seriously look at cover art for all written works. Does the cover accurately represent the contents? Is it aesthetically pleasing? Is it distracting? Does it catch your eye? Does it compromise the authors intent?

Let's begin:

I haven't read this book. I do not intend to. In fact, I merely picked it off a list that Barnes & Noble had of new titles. Does it work? Of Rao's book, her publisher says:

"The devil holds a gavel in this wickedly entertaining debut novel about a young attorney’s eventful year clerking for a federal judge. Sheila Raj is a recent graduate of a top-ten law school with dreams of working for the ACLU, but law school did not prepare her for the power-hungry sociopath, Judge Helga Friedman, who greets her on her first day. While her beleaguered colleagues begin quitting their jobs, Sheila is assigned to a high-profile death penalty case and suddenly realizes that she has to survive the year as Friedman’s chambermaid — not just her sanity, but actual lives hang in the balance. With Chambermaid, debut novelist Saira Rao breaks the code of silence surrounding the clerkship and boldly takes us into the mysterious world of the third branch of US government, where the leaders are not elected and can never be fired. With its biting wit and laugh-out-loud humor, this novel will change everything you think you know about how great lawyers, and great judges, are made."

Hmm. If this work is supposed to "boldly [take] us into the mysterious world of the third branch of US government" then I find the work to be too light-hearted. The red grabs my attention and the simplicity makes it easy to internalize, but the font leaves something to be desired. And I can't say I enjoy the pinkies up gavel grip with a pearl studded wrist.

I think it just reminds me of the horrid title sequence to "The Nanny." Yes, the Fran Drescher show. It always brought an end to my post-school cartoon and Simpsons intake. Maybe that's why I can't enjoy it.

Not the "silence breaking" novel the publisher describes. Or perhaps they were confused and it's wonderful little romp.

Any takers?

Believe Because You Saw or Believe What They Say

2007-02-14T19:07:00.000-05:00

I had hopes of spending the next few paragraphs discussing in depth the peculiarities of Shoeless Joe and finding some great new understanding about the nature of God in baseball—perhaps, a revelation akin to the one Ray Kinsella had—but upon reading the novel I could not separate it enough from The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. There was, however, one interesting aspect to Shoeless Joe that I feel greatly distinguishes it from The IBC; when time is skewed (e.g. Ray’s meeting with Doc Graham or Archie Graham’s appearance on the highway) there is no complete break from reality. The characters are able to interact with those from the past without being forced to leave “actual time” completely. At first I wrote it off as a conceit that each story created, just another means to convey a message, but I started to think of the implications of the two: actual time being broken completely allows for one person (or select group) to have a religious experience while actual time’s blending with a more sacred time can involve many people. It seemed at the end of Shoeless Joe that if one was willing to take the leap they could become part of the experience that Ray created; in The IBC only Gideon and Stan are truly able to say they saw the game that lasted over 40 days. I see this as two methods of finding or believing in a faith. Shoeless Joe posits that faith comes from experience, those that are involved, or in this case, that let themselves be involved are welcome to enjoy the fruits of “believing.” The IBC presents that only some people are in fact open to such experiences and we choose either to believe or not to believe what they say.

In “Religion As a Cultural System” Geertz states the “basic axiom underlying what we may…call ‘the religious perspective’ is everywhere the same: he who would know must first believe.” He says this in response to a quote by MacIntyre that mentions how “we justify religious belief…by referring to authority.” Authority is not what is worshipped, but we turn to these experts to guide and instruct our thoughts. I can’t help but disagree with this. I understand Geertz’s notion that in order to know there must first be belief, but I am hard pressed to trust someone else’s ideals before trying to experience and interpret these “religious” moments on my own. Geertz says that a religious belief comes not from everyday life, which would make us agnostics, but from the following of some prior authoritative figure. For those who’ve never been introduced to religious authoritarians are they not welcome in a religious system? Would they not have the ability to create their own? Or is religion solely a construct for the masses?

The use of “authority,” however, could be mended in MacIntyre’s statement. It assumes that there is always one person or synthetic object (e.g. The Bible) that is the source for authority. This association that religion or religious systems come from a man-made authority echoes in my ear because lately I’ve come to accept that a person’s religion best suits them when it is molded around personal experience. If authority were changed to mean any object, thing, or idea natural or artificial that in one person opens up truth, then I would agree that religious systems are based upon authority. In order to find this, one must find “authority” through personal practice. When we are able to see Shoeless Joe hit along side Moonlight Graham then we can understand the nature of religion as it pertains to ourselves.

Michael Novak: The Baseball Zealot

2007-02-07T20:56:00.000-05:00

Synonyms with zealot vary from ‘believer’ to merely ‘supporter’ and quite aptly ‘fanatic’—especially when discussing Novak’s The Joy of Sports. Novak is kind enough to explain his etymology of ‘fan’ being derived from not only ‘fanatic’ but also ‘fantastic’, for Novak I think the latter is merely wishful thinking. I consider Novak a baseball zealot because his understanding of the game seems unwavering as he makes blanket statements about baseball and religion alike (i.e. ‘the Vatican could be located anywhere; only tradition would be violated’). I don’t plan on arguing the true locations of holy spots throughout the world, what Novak’s opinions (half of which I have trouble agreeing with) do is reinforce in my mind that baseball is in fact a religion.

Zealots exist in any sort of belief system; there are always a few who take the written texts and holy events to a level that rational society deems ‘too far.’ And because I can see that Novak is a fanatic over baseball, along with many others, I cannot help but conclude that baseball has religious elements. Novak believes the difference between ‘profane time,’ moments spent working at utilitarian necessities, and ‘real time’ is that real time reminds one of the ‘swiftness and uncertainty’ of profane time. When one watches a baseball game—games that could go on ad infinitum—one is swept up in the transient nature of the world we live in. But Novak tries to make it clear that entertainment merely distracts us from necessity until we are forced to return to it; sports are not distractions but epic battles that reenact all that is true about life—winning, losing, pain, struggle, success. What about the people that truly do go to games for mere diversion for I am sure these people exist (rogues!)? I think this is true in religion as well. There are always those who attend a service or comply with a belief system out of need to distract themselves from the throws of life, not truly engaging themselves in the eternal elements of the religion.

However, Novak seems to look at sports from two different angles—the observer or fan and the athlete. When describing ‘defeat as death’ Novak focuses on the aspect of athlete facing defeat against a daunting foe. Can an observer truly understand the pure energy and velocity that guides these athletes? Of course, one feels a certain vicarious existence along side athletes but are we in the same situation as the players? And do the athletes experience the same religious sensation as a fan does watching his heroes compete?

I had never questioned the role of the athletes in the Baseball religion because I had always assumed it was meant for the observers. A baseball player may admit a longstanding desire to be a professional but at the end of the day they admit that sport is their job. This is exactly how it should be. Never, in a long while, has a self proclaimed God-incarnate been accepted by society—we say they are delusional. We want humble heroes that succeed without arrogance and act as guides. These are the people we venerate. These are the men we write about and remember when recounting with other fanatics the glorious days of yore.

Novak was difficult to interpret because I believe he took rational thoughts one step too far—baseball lowered crime in Detroit, flat claims about religious holy sites and teams more memorable than ones own family. It was in his generic assertions that I could see the unbelievable power people put in baseball. Griffin said it best: “If order is to be found in a meaningless universe, a man has to impose that order; a way of doing it was through the ritual of sports,” or religion—the two words are synonymous.

"The Natural" as a Road to God?

2007-01-24T22:30:00.000-05:00

The Natural never found a comfortable place in my mind as I read it and I am still not able to envisage it in my understanding of religion. Setting out to read the novel I first glanced at Kevin Baker’s “Introduction” and was immediately drawn to the word antiheroic. It was a term not often associated with religious heroes. Heroes are always revealed in a glorious light—David defeated Goliath, Moses saved the Israelites—but rarely do we witness their shortcomings. Again, I am forced to rely on a rapidly fading understanding of Catholicism, though, I am sure that the religious characters I grew up with were people to emulate in all ways. How then could the antiheroic, callous, self-absorbed Roy Hobbs ever guide someone in a religious direction? One could argue that characters with flaws can be learned from, but why then would Bernard Malamud spend an entire novel on such a reprehensible person—terrible characters with lessons to teach are for fables not for works with the magnitude of The Natural.

I spent the first half of the novel grappling with the idea of Roy Hobbs as hero; it was a constant comparison with Jesus, one I regret spending half the work doing. I was, however, compelled to continue reading. Roy intrigued me. He was real and flawed like I am and everyone else is. It didn’t take long to understand his plight or a least understand its genesis. Unlike most epic heroes (ones that I don’t necessarily think are religious) Roy’s flaws were numerous. He would womanize, be uncaring towards his teammates, and act in a completely self-absorbed manner and I understood it. No, I found it believable.

As I read The Iowa Baseball Confederacy I allowed myself to get swept away in the mythology Kinsella created. When it was completed, however, I walked away from the novel thinking only “what a lovely story”. I have trouble believing in magic and mystique of religion—it’s always been a problem and I don’t foresee it going away. Malamud created a world that appeared authentic. Roy’s internal struggle, the gambling underworld, these were parts of a reality I knew existed.

This posed a question in my mind: If I believed in Roy what exactly were beliefs? The simple answer is that beliefs are declarations we make internally to explain the unexplainable. Why, if as human’s we have the capacity to believe in things that rely on faith, did I find Roy’s quagmire to be more important. Eliade divided the world for me into two very distinct categories, the sacred and the profane—I am not trying to discredit a sacred existence, but the profane for me seems to coincide with a world based on quantifiable truths. Roy is the “Patron Saint of the Profane” in my mind. His skill is his own, not God given, and like Eliade mentioned Roy does incorporate a fragment of the sacred with “Wonderboy”.

Is Malamud’s final lesson that the profane ends with failure and tragedy? I don’t think so. Roy succumbed to the temptation of mortal goods—this works because it is most often true with man. Perhaps Malamud subconsciously suggest that there is no afterlife following a profane existence with Roy’s eventual ban from baseball—I imagine he was trying to create the cast of a realistic man to explain the everyday, not as a cautionary tale but as mirror to any that might find some sort of truth in Roy. I am one to agree with the notion “misery loves company” but that is such morbid way of putting it. I suggest any individual finds solace in the like.

2007-01-07T17:14:00.000-05:00

First draft of my play is completed. It is good to have some work done. I just received an email from my new screenwriting professor, however, explaining that I need to have part of my draft for his class ready for the first day. I did not know I needed to have started one. Rats.

Today, I woke up sick. That is a terrible feeling. I have a draft to begin, two books to read, a paper to write on those books. I need to get well. School hasn't started. I think.

Enough complaining, nothing ever comes of it. I watching the Giants play some good football -- I know, I am surprised myself.

All right, time to drink some OJ.

Tonight, you.

.ch

The Return?

2006-12-12T10:02:00.000-05:00

After checking James' new blog I realized I hadn't done anything in a long while. As my work starts to pile up on my desk, that is to say my writing not homework, I am finding I need to find a better outlet for it. I am thinking I will start posting scenes up here for mass consumption. That would be a least a slight bit proactive.

I just finished a sparse first draft of my play. Coming soon will be a full version of just a selection of favourite scenes.

.colin

PS -- Ignore the previous post pertaining to Slope Day. I don't actually drink that much.

Slope Day in Retrospect

2005-05-17T03:14:00.000-04:00

Being blessed with no finals, I arrived home from my first year of college on May 2nd -- two weeks before any life would return to Mahopac. So, I packed a bag, called some friends, and took a good, old fashioned college road trip up to Cornell to partake in the infamous Slope Day activities. From what I understood there was drinking to partake in and that is reason enough for me to go anywhere.

I hopped into my "Soccer Mom"-esque Subaru Forrester with Clint, Andy, and Andrew. We were pumped for a big trip and were soon to find out that Cornell provided more than we anticipated. We arrived late on Thursday evening (Slope Day was the following Friday) and took it easy, making sure not to blow our loads too early. We all quietly went to bed and awaited the festivities that were promised to us.

Early on Friday, roughly around 10 a.m., we began to arise. The sun was shining, the air was warm -- it was a good day. At 11 the binge drinking started full force: Power Hour. After a few shots Andy, who was also celebrating a birthday, wasn't feeling the early morning alcoholism.

It was a face of desperation, one that could only be cured by more beer. And my how the beer worked wonders. Within a few minutes Andy was in fine form chugging like the rest of us.

The killer wasn't the Power Hour though, it was the combination Kings that sent us over the edge. The limited amounts of food (cookies and nuts) didn't help us fight the first stages of drunkeness either.

Quickly, the alcohol took it's toll on us. Running rampant across our braincells the morning became a blur. The second half of the Power Hour seems to pass in only a minute and we were quick to head to our next engagement -- a party.

Upon arriving at the party we were greeted with a Power Hour! Not to be outdone, Andrew and myself jumped right into the game. A decision that would have probably be rethought, so it goes. Within minutes we were smashed. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the fact that in was 12:30.

Some time after the second Power Hour, Beer Pong began. A game that I love and adore. I played. I think. I believe I won one game and probably lost every game after that. It doesn't matter because I can't remember much after this point. I know there was a time when I climbed the fire escape outside the apartment and met the neighbors upstairs. They weren't too happy to see me on their balcony.

I also remember seeing Rebecca. I don't really remember talking to her, but I saw her I know that. Then I took this picture:

And then I went black for about an hour and half. I vaguely recall dialing Phyllis, Sal's mother, at some point on the Slope. I can also see The Game on stage, putting on a good show. Then for about 15 minutes I had complete clarity as I came across George Cornell. We called his brother, left and angry message on his phone questioning why he wasn't at the Slope.

I could go on with the random images in my head; seeing Brian Herbst, trying desperately to find Rebecca without soiling myself, half listening to Snoop Dogg, repeatedly calling Heather. But they wouldn't make much sense. It was just a fun morning and rather drunk afternoon. Then I fell asleep at 6.

I woke up at 9 with a hangover. Drank to rid myself of that problem. Headed over to Rebecca's to play Taboo. And thus ends my Slope Day.

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.