Wondering what to do with your Monday night? Join me at San Francisco’s Edinburgh Castle Pub. Kate Braverman is hosting a new series billed as a “literary talk show,” and this is the second event in the series. We’ll sort of be talking about first novels, but with Kate at the helm, anything could happen. In the lineup: Kim Addonizio, Katia Noyes, Charlie Anders, and yours truly. Also on the ticket: a performance by Daphne Gottlieb. 950 Geary, 7:00 p.m.
from AP: More than 150 nations agreed Saturday to launch formal talks on mandatory post-2012 reductions in greenhouse gases — talks that will exclude an unwilling United States. For its part the Bush administration, which rejects the emissions cutbacks of the current Kyoto Protocol, accepted only a watered-down proposal to enter an exploratory global “dialogue” on future steps to combat climate change. That proposal specifically rules out “negotiations leading to new commitments.”
Lauren Baratz Logsted here again, with talk of the mysterious Apache Woman
What Remains: A Memoir of Fate, Friendship and Love, Carole Radziwill. This book is a good companion piece to Joan Didionâ€™s National Book Award winner, The Year of Magical Thinking. Ms. Radziwill is the wife of the late Anthony Radziwill, who died after a long battle with cancer in 1999. His death was the predictable one. What was less predictable was that his cousin, for whom he was best man and who was his best man at their respective weddings, a man by the name of John F. Kennedy Jr., should predecease him by three weeks when the plane he was piloting plunged into the water, also killing his wife Carolyn Bessette, the authorâ€™s best friend, and Carolynâ€™s sister Lauren. Both Ms. Didion and Ms. Radziwill have had their books, between the lauds, tarred for being too coolly written, but I would say that those readers are mistaking the taut restraint of true grief when one is trying to maintain sanity for emotional distance. In the case of Ms. Radziwill, the charge has further been leveled that sheâ€™s no better than the â€œtragedy whoresâ€ she decries. Again, I would countercharge: Doesnâ€™t she have a right to tell her own story?
Thereâ€™s a wonderful passage in one of Dominick Dunneâ€™s novels where a tragedy occurs in the home of a wealthy family and someone tells the young boy of the house something to the effect that, â€œIt doesnâ€™t matter what tragedies befall you. People will always say, â€˜I wish I had his problemsâ€™.â€ And, indeed, this has always seemed to me to be the way the Kennedys are regarded: like theyâ€™re the luckiest people in the world for having all that money and power, and that itâ€™s a mere incidental price that so many of them seem to die in such tragic circumstances.
And in Ms. Radziwillâ€™s book thereâ€™s also a wonderful passage. When Anthony Radziwill, having been in denial for many years about his disease but applying for a new job at HBO, feels impelled to tell the producer, â€œI have cancer,â€ to which she replies, â€œSo what? I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.â€
Itâ€™s a wonderful line but it is also of course an awful line and a prophetic one at that: Anthony got cancer; John got hit by a bus.
Itâ€™s a peculiar thing, how we come to feel we know people weâ€™ve seen on TV or read about in the newspapers but never talked to. Sometimes, we even have personal anecdotes to share about them, even if once removed.
Back when I was a student at UCONN, there was a somewhat wild girl who lived on the same floor whose nickname was Apache Woman. One weekend, Apache Woman took the bus to see our soccer team play Brown University. She went because Mr. Kennedy was a member of Brownâ€™s team and she wanted to meet him. Somehow, she found where he lived and when he arrived home after the game, she was waiting for him. â€œYouâ€™reâ€¦youâ€™reâ€¦youâ€™reâ€¦â€ Suddenly, this loquacious girl whoâ€™d never lost a word, was thunderstruck. When she at last found her voice, it all came out in a rush: â€œOmigod, youâ€™re J-J-J-John, J-J-J-John, J-J-J-John F. Kennedy Jr.! Iâ€™ve wanted to meet you forever! My sister wanted to meet Joe Namath and last year she got to but youâ€™re the only person Iâ€™ve ever wanted to meet andâ€¦andâ€¦andâ€¦omigod, itâ€™s you!â€ And more of the same. Mr. Kennedy didnâ€™t do what most of the other college guys I knew back then would have done; he didnâ€™t kick her sorry ass out or try to jump her bones. Instead, he invited her in, sat her down, gave her a drink of water and then just talked to her calmly until she was sane enough to get back on her bus. I remember thinking at the time, and have thought since, that there was a lot of grace in his behavior that most of us simply donâ€™t have.
And, despite that of the four main people in this book â€“ Ms. Radziwill, Anthony, Carolyn and John â€“ heâ€™s glimpsed on the fewest pages, he emerges as such a charismatic figure, itâ€™s absolutely heartbreaking to think of what might have been, and I defy any reader to take in the passage where he sings his dying cousin a song theyâ€™d learned in their childhood about a bear and walk away with a dry eye.
â€œLife Changes fast,â€ Joan Didion writes. â€œLife changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. The question of self-pity.â€ This is the story Ms. Radziwill tells too â€“ the story of life changing, ending in an instant â€“ but she also tells the story about a person, her husband, dying by inches. In neither womanâ€™s book, neither Ms. Didionâ€™s nor Ms. Radziwillâ€™s, is self-pity anywhere on evidence.
Clinton’s speaking at the U.N. conference in Montreal today on behalf of the Kyoto pact–you know, the global environmental treaty that he championed but that Bush promptly backed down from the moment he stepped into office.
The Bush administration says it prefers to deal with climate issues on a bilateral or regional basis, not through global negotiations, and favors voluntary approaches. As a demonstration of U.S. efforts to combat climate change, it points to $3 billion a year in U.S. government spending on research and development of energy-saving technologies.
Hmm, that’s more than a billion dollars less than we’re spending in Iraq each month.
I found something amusing on Amazon today. There’s a concordance for my story collection, The Girl in the Fall-Away Dress. The concordance lists the 100 most frequently used words in the book. They tend toward the masculine–ivan, jake, jimmy, john, sven. One thing is clear from this list: characters in the book, for better or for worse, seem to spend a whole lot of time looking and thinking.
across against always arms away baby bed beneath big black body boyd boys came car city come dad darlene day door down dress even everything eyes face father feel first front get girl go going got hair hand head home house ing ivan jake jimmy john know life little long look looked looking love man miss moment mother name new night now old own parents place right road rodney room saint say school see side small something stand still story street sven table take tell thing think thought time told toward two want wearing went white window woman world years
The exercise: Read a couple of your stories or novel chapters and try to identify the most frequently used words. Then write a story using precisely none of these words.