I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: PJ HARVEY-Rid of Me (1993).

For Rid of Me, PJ Harvey jumped to the big leagues (relatively) by enlisting maniac Steve Albini as a producer.  And he takes the rawness of Dry one step further into a sound that is both raw and sharp.  He really highlights the differences between the highs and lows, the louds and quiets.  And man, when this came out I loved it.

Like NIN’s “March of the Pigs,” the opening of “Rid Of Me” is so quiet that you have to crank up the song really loud.  And then it simply blasts out of the speakers after two quiet verses.

“Legs” turns Harvey’s moan into a voice of distress, really accentuating the hurt in her voice.  And Harvey hasn’t lightened up her attitudes since Dry, especially in the song “Dry” which has the wonderfully disparaging chorus: “You leave me dry.”

“Rub Til It Bleeds” is a simple song that opens with a few guitars and drums but in true Albini fashion it turns into a noisy rocker.  “Man Size Quartet” is a creepy string version of the later song “Man Size” (I’ll bet the two together would sound great).  And the wonderful “Me Jane” is a great mix of rocking guitars and crazy guitar skronk.   Albini really highlights the high-pitched (male) backing vocals, which add an element of creepiness that is very cool.

For me the highlight is “50 Foot Queenie”.  It just absolutely rocks the house from start to finish.  The song is amazing, from the powerful…well…everything including the amazing guitar solo.  “Snake” is a fast rocker (all of 90 seconds long) and “Ecstasy” is a song that feels wrung out, stretched to capacity, like they’ve got nothing left.

It’s not an easy record by any means, but it is very rewarding.  This is a CD that really calls for reamastering.  Because it is too quiet by half, and could really use–not a change in production–just an aural boost.

[READ: end of February and beginning of March] A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again

This is a collection of 7 essays that DFW wrote from 1990-1996.  Three were published in Harper’s, two in academic journals, one in Esquire and the last in Premiere.  I devoured this book when it came out (I had adored “Shipping Out” when it was published in Harper’s) and even saw DFW read in Boston (where he signed my copy!).

[Does anyone who was at the reading in Harvard Square…in the Brattle Theater I THINK…remember what excerpts he read?]

The epigram about these articles states: “The following essays have appeared previously (in somewhat different [and sometimes way shorter] forms:)”  It was the “way shorter” that intrigued me enough to check out the originals and compare them to the book versions.  Next week, I’ll be writing a post that compares the two versions, especially focusing on things that are in the articles but NOT in the book (WHA??).

But today I’m just taking about the book itself.

“Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley” (1990)

This is a snippet of memoir (that’s how it was labelled in Harper’s) about growing up and playing tennis in Illinois.  This is a really fun article, even if you don’t follow/like tennis.  It’s a fairly honest appraisal as DFW’s skills as a tennis player (he was very good for a brief amount of time before puberty made everyone else much better).  And looks a bit as his dealing with his no longer being great.

The bulk of the article is really about wind in the Midwest.  The titular Tornado Alley is explained: the flatness allows for amazingly quirky weather and excessive winds.  I loved the details about midwestern flatness and how as a transplant (he was born in NY) he could appreciate the flatness and straight lines much better than natives could.

The article ends with a very engaging incident when he and Gil Antitoi (!) were practicing when a strong wind (likely not a tornado) blew them into the practice fence (like a cartoon).  It’s a pretty scary and wonderfully told anecdote.

But really, this is an interesting article for fans of DFW because it seems (to me) to be one of the most personal things he’s written.  It’s about his childhood and his acceptance of failure.  And it’s even about his adolescent development–there’s a funny bit about virginity.

Probably the most interesting aspect for DFW fans, though, is the inclusion of his friend Gil Antitoi (that last name should sound very familiar to readers of IJ).  Gil was his sort of sparring partner and on court rival (they battled many times with Gil winning most of them).

Of course, the REALLY exciting part for IJ fans is in the original article that was excised out of the book–you’ll have to wait till next week to see what that is.

In short, it’s a great start to the book.

“E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction” (1990)

This seems like it’s going to be a dry article about media and writing.  And yet it is completely not that.  The opening section is an interesting investigation into why watching TV is not voyeurism (actors are geniuses at being watched).  Although, he says, writers certainly are voyeurs.

He also looks at how TV critics themselves really seem to hate TV–for all of its predictability and lameness (so why do they keep the job?).  But then he gives a great example of a totally meta-episode of St Elsewhere that name-checks the Mary Tyler Moore Show (and features Betty White as not the character she played on MTM, but as mistaken for said character).  The meta- ending is just great (“It is in-joke within in-joke”).  DFW’s review of this episode is wonderful (“leaving at least one viewer credulously rapt”).

The big turn seems to come with the use of irony.  TV (always one step ahead of the curve) began using irony in the 1970s with SNL, but it has grown more and more insidious through the 80s until you get things like the Joe Isuzu character.  (Remember him?)

He ties this to literature through what he calls “post-postmodernism”, “hyperrealism” and “image-fiction” (never heard of that one).  There’s some interesting titles bandied about here:

• Don DeLillo-Great Jones Street, Libra
• Robert Coover-Burning, A Night at the Movies
• Max Apple-“The Oranging of America,” Propheteers
• Jay Cantor-Krazy Kat
• William T. Vollmann-You Bright and Risen Angels, The Rainbow Stories
• A.M. Homes-The Safety of Objects
• Michael Martone-Fort Wayne is Seventh of Hitler’s List
• Mark Leyner-My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist

I was especially intrigued by the final section, The End of the End of the Line.  DFW gives great detail about George Gilder’s 1990 book Life after Television: The Coming Transformation of Media and American Life.  It’s interesting to me that DFW  is utterly dismissive of the book.  Now, truthfully the point of Gilder’s argument–that technology will resolve problems of TV’s master-slave relationship to the audience– is totally foolish.  But to read him utterly dismiss Gilder also seems to dismiss Gilder’s prediction of the technology of the future.  And yet, Gilder is uncannily right on.  Especially his part about an “interactive net” of telecomputers (I love the old jargon in these articles).  Some of his predictions haven’t happened yet, but for the most part he was really right on.

The article ends with a lengthy look at Mark Leyner’s My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist.  That he would spend so much time analyzing one book, especially from a contemporary, especially to end up with a review that is both positive and yet dismissive is fascinating.  When DFW and Mark Leyner appeared on Charlie Rose in 1996 I wonder if there was any awkwardness about it.

The final paragraph or two are oft-quoted when it comes to DFW’s attitude about sincerity, and it is indeed an excellent summary and maybe something of a manifesto.

It’s not a “fun” article, and yet for a long academic piece, it is quite enjoyable and rather persuasive (and a little funny).  I’d actually love for someone to see how TV (and writing) has turned out now, twenty years later.  (I don’t watch commercials anymore, so I don’t know what techniques they’re using these days).

My question initially upon reading this, when he talks about writers mining TV for their fiction was “Do writers really watch TV to prepare to write their fiction?”  It seems absurd to think that anyone would try to write about “people” by watching TV.  Although by the end of the article he talks about mining the techniques of TV and maybe even the way people speak–that I can believe.

There were two things that made me think of Infinite Jest (which remember hasn’t been written yet).  There’s a lot of talk about M*A*S*H, including a section about sending letters to Col Potter.  And there’s a section about girls throwing acid at each other because “one girl’s hair looks more like Farrah Fawcett’s than another’s.”  Now first, Farrah Fawcett?  In 1990?  But the more apposite is of course acid throwing which becomes a major moment inInfinite Jest.

I was delighted by how much I enjoyed this piece.

“Getting Away from Already Pretty Much Being Away from It All” (1993)

This is the hilarious (mostly–there’s a few sucker punches to your emotions when he gets to the animals’ tents) account of his visit to the Illinois State Fair.  He has stated retroactively (in a radio interview) that he feels he may have been a little mean-spirited in the article.  And I think that that may be a little true, although the meanness comes from what I consider an honest appraisal of the scene.  People aren’t mentioned by name, which I think takes the onus off of DFW’s conscience.  But anyhow, if you can get past your conscience, this article is laugh out loud funny.

Although this article is mostly about the fair and DFW’s “fish out of water” correspondent, it’s also about DFW himself and his insecurities and failings (his inability to even look at a thrill ride much less to go on one, and his outrageous fear of poultry.)

So this article is about DFW’s return to Illinois to a state fair which he had never attended before.  He is granted an all access Press Pass, (it seems like it’s more exciting that he got the pass than that he gets to go to the fair).  There’s some fun at the expense of Harper’s (an East Coast magazine deigns to remember that there are people in the flyover states), but it seems pretty clear that he would write the same article for whatever magazine assigned it.

The most interesting aspect of the article is DFW’s consideration of the people there: ag people, carnies, the sellers in the air-conditioned booths (the woman who does the thighmaster is pretty impressive) and the patrons.

He talks about how it is “us” which draws spectators to the fair (people in the midwest are mostly used to emptiness, so the thought of a crowded spectacle is fun for them–as opposed to East Coast people who try to get away from crowds on vacation).  It’s interesting how he spends the second half of the article undermining the idea of “us” coming together by talking about the us vs them mentality that arises between these four types of people at the Fair.

This article also really plays up the fish out of water aspect of the writing (he had to bring a Native Companion along for comfort).  Although it’s interesting that his most insightful stuff comes after Native Companion leaves (more time in his own head, obviously).

The funniest parts are the lengthy trips to certain specific events: the baton twirling is wonderful (even after hearing him read it (which is great), reading it yourself is still funny).

The noise from the Sport Car Race is viscerally described and, of course, his absolute failure to ride a near-death experience is great, I have personal affinity for the Sky Coaster–a ride that I myself almost had the nerve to try at a strange little fair in Florida about a dozen years ago.

But there’s also joy for DFW (and us) The Prairie State Cloggers dance sounds utterly mesmerizing and something I would love to check out.  And, well, despite the heat, the food sounds wonderfully fair-riffic.

It’s a wonderful article and an excellent introduction to DFW’s non-fiction writing style

“Greatly Exaggerated” (1992)

This is the most academic article in the book (far more academic than “E Unibus Pluram”), despite its brevity.  It is more or less a book review of H.L. Hix’ Morte d’Author: An Autopsy.

It looks at the history of lit crit, specifically the question about the death of the author.  And then it adds in Hix’s own attitude about the author.  I found the argument fairly easy to follow although I’m so far removed from the subject that I guess I really didn’t care all that much.

Even though I think it is (of course) well-argued and pertinent to the field, it is pretty inessential for the lay reader.

“David Lynch Keeps His Head” (1995)

This article also ties interestingly back to “E Unibus Pluram.”  That article laid out DFW’s opinion about TV and transgressive works.  Given that, it is no surprise at tall that he is a fan of David Lynch.

He doesn’t get access to the man himself (which he’s fine with), but he is allowed on the set of Lost Highway and he’s allowed to see where they’re filming as well as daily rushes and unedited cuts.

I’m intrigued that he felt that theme song for the movie should have been The Flaming Lips’ “Be My Head” as this song does work, but DFW is usually pretty oblivious to music (and of course, Lynch himself seems to live in a world where music hasn’t changed since the 50s).

The article is set up in short sections, most of which contain a trivia tidbit (all of which are fascinating) at the end.  There’s some background about Lynch himself and what he has done.   It looks at Blue Velvet (a lot)–as the pinnacle of his career (thus far)–and Dune–as the bottomless pit of his career.  Although, interestingly, it turns out that Dune, disaster that it was, was instrumental in Lynch becoming the confident director that he became–fearless and in total control.

There’s a lengthy precis of Lost Highway which I have to say makes the film sound better than I remember it.

But perhaps the most interesting thing is his lengthy definition of “Lynchian” and its commercialization by the likes of Quentin Tarantino.  It ties to the “E Unibus Pluram” article because it talks very specifically about the difference between commercial work and left field work (and how the left-field is becoming more commercial).

There’s a blistering criticism of Balthazar Getty which is mean and hilarious.  And there’s also some interesting comments about Patricia Arquette, Bill Pullman, and Richard Pryor (and the lack of black actors in Lynch’s movies).  Recall, in “E Unibus Pluram” that he says actors are geniuses at appearing to not notice a camera, so it’s funny to hear him interacting (indirectly) with these celebrities and coming away less than impressed.

As with most of these articles there are unintentionally funny things that someone reading it nearly twenty years later can’t help but giggle at.  Like he needs to give a definition (in a footnote) of CGI: “Computer-Generated Images as in Jumanji.”  Was Jumanji the height of CGI then?

But for any fan of DFW’s writing, there’s a lengthy section about how he and his fellow MFA’s were blown away the first time they saw Blue Velvet:

“It wasn’t just that these [things–slightly but marvelously off in every shot] seemed eccentrically cool or experimental or arty, but that they communicated things that felt true… that they rang psychic cherries in the communicatee (201).

And even more crucial to what DFW has been writing since:

the movie helped us realize that first-rate experimentalism was a way not to “transcend” or “rebel against” the truth, but actually to honor it.

For what is really just an article about a filmmaker, DFW makes some great comments about culture in its many forms (and it’s funny too).  as with many of his essays interest in or fondness for the titular subject is not a prerequisite for enjoyment.

“Tennis Player Michael Joyce’s Professional Artistry as a Paradigm of Certain Stuff About Choice, Freedom, Limitation, Joy, Grotesquerie, and Human Completeness” (1995)

The second tennis article in the book is, for the most part, about Michael Joyce. This article ties wonderfully back to “Tornado Alley” because DFW talks about himself as a player and how he (still) thought he was quite good until he saw professional players up close and realized that they were clearly a level above him.

It’s a fascinating article about a virtually unknown player (certainly the average Esquire reader has never heard of him).  He seems to have chosen Joyce based on his performance at the tournament.

The article is also wonderful for those who are not tennis followers.  He explains the three different styles of play: offensive (serve and net), defensive (baseline) and the new power baseline (sort of created by Jimmy Connors and used by Andre Agassi and many younger players) .

There’s a lengthy footnote about players having tantrums which leads to an interesting look at maturity in general (this article was written before IJ, but just barely, and I wonder if maturity was on his mind for the kids at Enfield).

The most fun part of the article (excised from Esquire) shows DFW browsing the stadium (both as press (to use the press bathrooms) and as spectator).  He loves seeing all of things that are available to buy (like the most tangentially related products), including the food (stadium food is not unlike fair-food, reminiscent of “Getting Away”) and especially the cigarettes that are available in mass quantity (and given to the press for free).  The sponsor of the tournament is du Maurier cigarettes (shocking).  I wondered why he never said anything about the connection.  His surprise comes out a little here when he sees their plenitude, but is still more subdued than you’d expect.

Even if you don’t follow tennis, as I don’t , you should find this enjoyable (and it may even make you want to watch a bit more tennis–or at least be glad that Agassi is no longer #1–boy he hates that guy).

Oh, and just to whet your appetite, there is a parenthetical section of a footnote which is excised for the book which I’ll quote next week, but suffice it to say it is about Agassi and Brooke Shields, and it’s not very nice at all.

“A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” (1995)

This is the piece de resistance of the essay collection; it’s probably the most read off all of DFW’s non-fiction (or at least the Harper’s version is).  I remember reading this and howling with laughter at the hilarious descriptions of awkwardness.

This re-read has brought up some new emotions, though.  I admit that some of this is because I now know of DFW’s depression, but, even without thinking about that, it’s pretty surprising  how much of this article is about despair.

Now I am mostly on board with his attitudes about the cruise ship.  I am also self-conscience when on vacation, knowing fully well that people are working hard while I am relaxing and being waited upon.  I was especially conscious of it (including trying (like DFW) to distance myself from “tourists” and acting like I was not as bovine as everyone else) when I was single in my late 20s early 30s.

But now that I’m married and in my 40s (and I have kids) I care less about what the natives think of me (and will gladly wear a camera) for three big reasons: they undoubtedly go on vacation too; I’m going to be lumped in with the herd regardless of my behavior; I won’t let my own neuroses ruin my family vacation (screw what the natives think of me).

When the article first came out it had personal resonance for me because my oldest friend had just gone on a sort of post-honeymoon cruise and I enjoyed thinking about him in this context (he wouldn’t read the article afterwards).

And but so I am completely on board with DFW’s semi-agorophobia (I don’t do well with planned activity nonsense either), but that element of despair just seems so over the top sad, that it actually made me a little uncomfortable while reading this (again, possibly reading into it DFW’s depression).

Despair aside though, the article is still very funny because of DFW’s seeing-all eye for details.  Of course, there is just far too much article (100 pages in the book) to even bother with a summary.  So I’ll  just say that he has wonderful insights into the craftmanship of the ship, the power of the toilet, the awesomeness of the food (and the waiter) and, possibly everyone’s favorite part: trying to find out how Petra knows that he’ll be away long enough for her to clean his room.

I’ve never been on a cruise (and I’m not sure if I would ever go on one having read this–although DFW himself does offer tips for those thinking about going–I guess he is sort of encouraging it), but it sounds like the luxury (and yes, pampering) is pretty amazing.  I mean, I’ve stayed in hotels, and the maid service is always wonderful, but I can’t even conceive of maid service round the clock (it might actually make me a little too uncomfortable, frankly).

The skeet shooting section is also hilarious.  As, is, let’s be honest, all of his comments about Mr Dermatitis and his fear of getting sucked out through the vacuum toilet (there a wonderful follow-up to this  in the book (with the cruise director’s wife) that is not in the article.  I love Trudy and Esther (and Mona and Alice) and Good Old Table 64, and beloved waiter Tìbor.

There’s also the amusing-from-fifteen years later explanation (like with CGI in the David Lynch article) of GPS: “The Nadir subscribes to something called GPS: This Global Positioning System is using satellites above to know the position at all times, which gives this data to the computer” (53).

The book version adds an incredible amount to the initial article (a rough estimate is that the book’s version is double in size).  And some of these things are not even alluded to: the religious aspects of the cruise (a Catholic mass and vow renewal); the Library; getting beaten in chess by a 9-year-old girl (and a very very funny footnote about it later on); ping-pong; and even pondering how the cruise line can serve up so much luxury for $3,000 (admittedly not a cheap price, but the amount you get for it i pretty stunning).  [The answer, in large part seems to the casino and drinks (even sodas aren’t free–and no Mr Pibb??)].

It’s a tremendous example of DFW’s nonfiction: his attention to detail, the way he can use his own neuroses to great advantage in his writing and even how he can make despair compelling.  And it never for a second feels like it is 100 pages long.  Even fifteen years later, the piece still feels relevant and accurate (although I’m sure it costs far more than $3,000 now) and funny.

The main reason why the book version is better than the Harper’s version is the end.  In the article, the ending seems to just fade away.  And that is the point, he’s exhausted ad wants to zone out (the Fair article similarly just sort of drifts to and end).  But since the book adds so much more to his last day there (there must be at least ten extra pages about the on-board activities that he engages in–including getting punched in the face) it seems a lot more plausible that he would want a massive day to himself (and his Frank Conroy thoughts).  The Harper’s version made me think it was odd that he would spend all of his last day in his cabin, but the book version fills in a lot of the reason why.

It’s a wonderful, wonderful article and still funny and it caps off a truly fantastic collection of essays.