On Robert Caro

On May 1 the fourth volume of Robert Caro's massive and enthralling biography of Lyndon Johnson is scheduled to be released. This was to be the last volume, but as many of us suspected, there was simply no way the prolix Caro was going to cover LBJ's entire Vice Presidency, Presidency, and the few remaining years of his life in one volume given the depth of scope he devoted to LBJ's pre-presidential career. Recently Esquire and The New York Times Magazine both devoted extensive features to Caro and his work (which perhaps inevitably led to some significant overlap in both themes but also in anecdotes).

I would suspect that most writers will respond as I did, with considerable awe about his process and his painstaking dedication to getting it all just right. But I suspect there will also be considerable envy (and admiration) for the way that he has been able to impose his will on a major publishing house even in an era where the bounded book seems besieged from all sides.

I'll be lined up on May 1 to pick up the latest volume. I would also push anyone interested in big (but perhaps not quite so ambitious) biographies of LBJ to consider Randall Woods' substantial one-volume biography of Johnson. One of the more interesting, and perhaps controversial, subplots in Woods' creation is that he refused to engage with Caro's work, something he explains in the introduction of a book that casts LBJ in a far more positive light than Caro does, especially in his first two volumes.

Facts Matter

If you are reading this blog* then you probably believe that facts matter. You know that determining facts is not as easy as it might seem but it is really important for any writer trying to deal with the real, trying to deal with whatever it is that we might call "truth," or at least a version of truth. We cannot know everything. We might get things wrong despite our best intentions. But we do our best. And if you are like me you look askance at best and call bullshit more probably when people prattle on about fiction being more true than nonfiction because that assertion is nonsense.

Perhaps this is why I got so angry in the last week or so when I read about a new book. Or I should say, when I read about the content and debate that makes up a new book, The Lifespan of a Fact, which is credited to John D'Agata and Jim Fingal. I say "credited to" because the book is an odd creature, from what I can discern (note that I am not reviewing the book, which I have not read, but the conflict related to it, which you can read enough about here and here to form a pretty solid opinion). It effectively consists of the correspondence and other elements that a historian might call "primary source evidence" of the interactions of an author, D'Agata, and the young man tasked to be his fact checker, Fingal.

D'Agata, who teaches writing at the Iowa Writer's Workshop (and you'll soon come to see why I am chagrined to say that he teaches "non-fiction") wrote a story about a suicide in Las Vegas that is, as the best stories are, about more than the thing at hand, which is to say that it is a reflection on suicide and Las Vegas and death and, ironically enough, truth and facts. Fingal went to work with his fact checking, and from early on it was clear that something was wrong -- D'Agata had changed the names of businesses and schools and had apparently changed scores of facts for no reason other than pretentious twaddle about his "art." Tellingly, D'Agata had submitted the piece to Harper's and the fact checkers had revealed the same issues and had the scruples to pass on the piece.

John D'Agata (and no, I had not heard of him either) was not, it turned out, big enough to bully Harper's.

So he moved on to The Believer, a literary magazine of which I have been a devotee for more than seven years. That is where Fingal got hold of what D'Agata insisted was an "essay," and thus a higher calling, as opposed to a simple work of non-fiction, a distinction that is decidedly without a difference in my mind, and I too am a fan of the essay as a form of expression. Sadly, though, while Fingal was able to get some of the intentional errors in D'Agata's piece rewritten, many remained.

Apparently John D'Agata, of whom you and I had never heard, is big enough to bully The Believer.

The piece that resulted is good. But it is not so good that basic rules of writing and evidence should not have applied to its author. D'Agata claims that he does not owe the victim of the suicide he uses as a springboard or the victim's parents or history or nonfiction or The Believer or his editors or his audience fealty to those facts, those realities, that can be pinned down. Worse still, he was a world class bully to Fingal who was, it should be pointed out, simply doing his job for a magazine for which D'Agata wanted to be published. And, perhaps ironically, in doing his job Fingal was attempting to do a sort justice to the victim of the suicide D'Agata uses as a springboard, to the victim's parents to history to nonfiction to The Believer to his editors and to his audience by maintaining fealty to those facts, those realities, that can be pinned down.

It is, to be blunt, utter bullshit to assert, as D'Agata repeatedly does that good nonfiction is in opposition to the art of good writing, and anyone reading this can make a list of dozens and were you to bother hundreds of writers of nonfiction -- say historians and journalists and, yes, essayists -- who wipe the floor with John D'Agata of whom you and I had never heard prior to the past few days.


*And if you are still reading I probably don't deserve you as a reader as I've been horrible at posting here for the last year or so.

Stuff to Read

I'm on my way to the American Historical Association annual meeting in Chicago (I'm going to be pretty scarce, but if you want to connect, track me down via email, my cell number if you have it, or in the comments and we can get a drink) but one of my resolutions for the next year is to post more frequently here at dcat. In that spirit, here are a few things you should read:

One of the most celebrated books of recent months is John Lewis Gaddis' long-awaited biography of George Kennan, which came out at the end of the year and will stand as a landmark work for the next generation. Of the many reviews of the book that you will want to read (reviews being vital to larger conversation that books should inspire) put Lon Hamby's Wall Street Journal review at the top of your list.

And since you're in a reading mood, go read Tom Bruscino's excellent Claremont Review of Books essay on Vietnam War historiography. You'll find much to agree with and possibly as much to dispute, the sign of a provocative argument. (Hint: He's not a fan of the baby boomers.)

The end of the year produces more than enough best-of lists to fill up your time. I thought Pitchfork's Top 50 Albums of 2011 would have a little something for everyone -- loads of pretentious rock-crit scribbling for those of you not inclined toward quite so much obscurantism, and a pretty good list of stuff to track down for those on the other side. I feel as if I buy loads of music and try to keep up on as much new stuff as possible and I only own 6 of the top 50. I'm sure I'll catch up (I'm sometimes a somewhat late adopter) but I like lists like this because I get sick of hearing those regular pronouncements about the death of music.

Finally, when does a writer become a writer? It's a good question, especially for those of us who consider ourselves writers and who don't fully earn money from our publications. Seek solace in the fact that the majority of us have to bring in dirty cash money through more than the power of our words.

Updike's Rules for Reviewers

Critical Mass, the blog of the National Book Critics Circle (NBCC) Board of Directors, recently posted John Updike's rules for reviewers, drawn from the introduction to his collection Picked Up Pieces. I am a member of NBCC and have written scores of reviews ranging from 190-word Choice snippets to review essays, and over the last few days have been giving Updike's rules a lot of thought.

Updike was as good a reviewer and essayist as he was a novelist, and so with all humility I want to respond to his ideas. I'll highlight his rules and will then respond after each.

"My rules," he writes, "shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

His drawing from "youthful traumas" is not happenstance. Reviews of my books have been quite good, but in academia everyone has to deal with the dreaded reader's report for both journal article and book submissions, and frankly if you haven't experienced "youthful traumas," or mid-career traumas for that matter, you haven't been submitting things. The double-blind peer review process might seem like the gold standard for objectivity, but most commonly, blind review allows people to be pricks with no repercussions. No one has ever adequately explained to me why reviewers ought to get or need the protection of anonymity. As a result, now that i review both book manuscripts and article submissions I have committed myself to constructive and fair criticism, and have endeavored in particular to avoid the gatekeeper effect whereby I see myself as the gatekeeper to the kingdom of publication. generally speaking, I want things to see the light of day and let the reader (and future reviewers) decide. this is not always possible, but I think it is a pretty sound best practice.

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

Another way to think of this is to review the book the author has written, not the one she did not write. It is amazing how many reviews assess the latter instead of the former. Yes, it is fair to address opportunities miss, arguments ignored, peculiar choices. But take the book on its own terms.

2. Give him enough direct quotation--at least one extended passage--of the book's prose so the review's reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

Ahh, the golden age of book reviewing. I think Updike's standard here is likely more apt for fiction in any case, but in his time book reviewers were allotted a great deal more space than most of us get now. Plus, let's face it -- Updike could likely write as much as he wanted. I agree that it is great to quote when appropriate, especially to highlight particularly good (or bad) writing, but extended passages can be tough given a word limit that is likely to weigh in at something under, usually well under, a thousand words.

3. Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy precis.

Again, this seems more apt for fiction reviewers. Of course Updike lays out a false dichotomy here inasmuch as a non-fuzzy precis seems appropriate depending on context.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending. (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants' revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative! Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves. And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

This one is almost wholly aimed at fiction writers. It is pretty difficult for a reviewer of a book on the Civil War to keep the outcome a secret.

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author's ouevre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it's his and not yours?

This is great advice. Most nonfiction reviewers will do this as a matter of course, placing the book within a larger literature or situating it within various schools, debates, arguments, or trends. And, yes, when pointing out failures or shortcomings, make sure they are both the writer's and that they are germane.

I am going to break this next paragraph down into its component parts as it contains some of the richest material:

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like.

I think this is key. In the historical profession it becomes increasingly difficult to review books of complete strangers. we tend to know one another or to know one anothers' colleagues or advisors or what have you. but it seems clear to me that you don't review books of clear enemies or dear friends. Forget about the ethical aspect of this latter -- if a book reviewer owed his audience honesty first and foremost, is it really worth it to run the risk of losing a friend? And while sticking it to a foe might seem worthwhile, the personal animus is either already known or will become clear. Trust me -- at a certain point your problem will be that you have too many books to review, not too few. Turn down any where conflicts are attendant. (If the Times comes calling, of course, let your conscience be your guide.)

Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an idealogical battle, a corrections officer of any kind.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Never, never (John Aldridge, Norman Podhoretz) try to put the author "in his place," making him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers.

I love how in telling people not to grind axes, Updike grinds a couple of axes. Well played, sir!

Review the book, not the reputation.

You know, I don't entirely agree with this one. Here is why. Sometimes a book explodes and gets far more credit than it deserves and in so doing overwhelms other, worthier books. I don't think one should go after a big name just to get a notch on one's belt, but I also think it is fair to say, this book that's getting a lot of praise? It's not so good and it is muscling out these books that deserve your attention. I stand by this, for example (though how naive was I to think that FML would be published in 2003?).

Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban.

I agree 100% Better to err on the side of kindness and give a book a chance than to condemn. Humility in reviewing is an invaluable trait. And I say this as someone not often accused of excessive humility. But there is lots and lots of very good work out there and there will be long after you've penned your last review.

The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys in reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

Reviewing is, to my mind, invaluable and underrated. A reviewer is part of a conversation, neither the first nor the last word. Take criticism seriously as a writer of it, a recipient of it, and a reader of it.

What Role an Editor?

What is the role of an editor? How much does an author's original intent matter? Should a story or article reappear posthumously in different form from its original publication? These are just some of the questions that this TLS review of The Library of America's release of Carver's Collected Stories raises.

RIP, John Updike, Baseball Fan

John Updike, a colossus in American letters by any measure, died Tuesday. He was 76. Updike was a baseball fan. And he contributed what is almost certainly the greatest single essay about the sport, an impressive accomplishment given the deep interconnections between baseball and writers. "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu" is a paean to Ted Williams, Fenway Park, and the game itself.

What a lousy week this has been for book lovers.

That (Brilliant) Column Idea Seems Familiar, Sir

I'm sure it's just great minds thinking alike or coincidence or something, but this Donald G. McNeil Jr. column seems to echo an awful lot of my ideas from this piece for the Foreign Policy Association from last January (and which appeared in Cape Town's Cape Argus a couple of weeks later -- perhaps apropos of nothing McNeil is a foreign correspondent based in South Africa. Also: his argument about tribalism is dumb and self-contradictory.) I'm just sayin' is all.

Baseball Playoffs: Fearless Predictions

In yesterday's Boston Globe Bob Ryan had a wonderful column remembering John Updike's New Yorker essay "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu," one of the finest pieces of writing about baseball or anything else. The playoffs start this week with lots of compelling storylines: Is the the year the Cubs finally break through, rewarding their fans like the Red Sox and White Sox have rewarded theirs in recent years? Will the Tampa Rays' carriage turn into a pumpkin, or are they for real? Can the Red Sox repeat, establishing a legitimate claim to the first dynasty of the twenty-first century? And a Cubs-Red Sox World Series: great matchup or the greatest matchup?

I'm thrilled with how the Red Sox are heading into the postseason. They did not have a dominant year, but they still emerged with one of the four best records in baseball and are poised for another deep postseason run. They have the pitching, especially to master the short five-game series, when they will only need to rely on a three-man rotation, with Beckett, Dice-K, and Lester to take the hill. The Sox struggled against the Angels and Rays this year more than I would like to see but that will not matter one bit in the postseason. The lineup is reasonably balanced, and is led less by Big Papi than by MVP candidates Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia. Terry Francona is as well equipped for this stage of the season as anay manager in baseball, and to my mind handled the last two weeks of the season just about perfectly, as he did last year. The Angels are talented. They have a deep lineup and they play small ball, but they do not work deep into counts, which may favor the Red Sox starters. They will rely on their starting pitching to bridge the way to their excellent relievers, so the key for the Red Sox will be to get to the starters early to disrupt Mike Scoscia's preferred pitching usage and to get whacks at the middle relievers. The Angels want to shorten the game by getting to K-Rod. The Sox have to avoid K-Rod getting into that situation. They thus need to work pitch counts, be patient, score early, and avoid a traditional Red Sox bugaboo even for good teams: leaving men on base. The Angels may have been the best team in the regular season, but the Red Sox have been their nightmare in the playoffs. I expect that to continue. Sox in four.

As for the other matchups:

Tampa has a huge advantage inasmuch as the AL Central has yet to be decided, with the White Sox having to make up a missed game against Detroit today and if they win, then facing a one-game playoff against the Twins. That has to favor the Rays who will continue their run for another week. No matter who they play, Rays in five.

The Cubs have been the best team in the National league by a long way. The Dodgers won the worst division in baseball only in the last week. This should be a mismatch. It won't be. The post-Manny Dodgers have been very good. Joe Torre knows how to manage in the postseason. On paper this should not be close. In reality, it will take the Cubs five games to pull this one out (and part of me wants to predict the Dodgers).

The fight for the final spot in the postseason represented a war of attrition. The Mets did their now-traditional vanishing act (New York Baseball Fever: Catch It!) thus allowing the Brewers to slink into the playoffs like a drunk trying not to wake his spouse as he stumbles into things on the way to the bedroom. The Phillies did not exactly seize the east until late. Nonetheless the Phils will take this largely because the Brewers won't know how. Phillies in five.

The Cubs will beat the Phillies in 6 for the NLCS, the Sox will beat the Rays in five for the ALCS, and the Red Sox, playing the role of hissable bullies and enemies to karma, will break the hearts of Cub fans yet again in six games split between Fenway Park and Wrigley that will cause an outbreak of purple prose across the land. Go Sox!!!

Writers and Rejection

Brian Doyle has a fantastic essay on rejection letters from an editor's vantage point at The Kenyon Review. Essays about editing are essays about writing, but this one provides insight into the head of that person who has sent you all those rejection letters. And every writer worth his salt has received more rejections than acceptance letters. (Hat tip to Ralph at Cliopatria.)

Richard Wright

At the Times Literary Supplement James Campbell has a fantastic review essay on Richard Wright. Wright's Native Son and one of his essays plays a vital role in the opening pages of Freedom's Main Line.

The Memoir Trap

It's frustrating enough being a writer with pretensions toward big-time aspirations without having to read about the recent spate of memoirs shown to be fraudulent, including, most recently, Margaret Seltzer's Love and Consequences, which gives grim but apparently false detail about growing up as a foster child and gang member in South-Central Los Angeles.

So, what's going on here? It seems like the first problem is with the publishing industry itself. There is something awry about a culture so awash in memoir, that so privileges first-person accounts over verifiable non-fiction. In their quest for the next James Frey (oops) publishers have come to privilege memoir over almost every other genre. What seems quite clear is that many of these books have relied almost wholly on their first-person vantage point for their appeal, as it seems evident that many of them would not have passed muster as fiction, and yet once we discover that they also do not work as nonfiction, what do we have? (And yes, I realize that Bleeding Red shared at least some of the attributes of memoir, but even a cursory reading indicates that it was something a bit different.)

Writing good nonfiction is hard work. The craft is every bit as difficult as writing fiction with the added burden of owing fealty to evidence. Perhaps my favorite historian, C. Vann Woodward, wrote in his preface to the first edition of The Strange Career of Jim Crow, "The twilight zone that lies between living memory and written history is one of the favorite breeding places of mythology." Would that more publishers would keep this wisdom in mind the next time they think they have struck it rich with the next groundbreaking memoir.

On Literary Agents

If in the world of writing you are a relative nobody, as I am, you are familiar with the pas de deux of dealing with agents. It's a frustrating game, because the agent holds all the cards despite the fact that it is your work that is at the center of discussion. When I was shopping Bleeding Red I had an agent for a while. At first she was enthusiastic and supportive. And then she discovered that some very big names were also publishing books on the Red Sox, and she became distant and silent. Before long, the relationship ended -- she called it off, but only after I had threatened to do so. My view is that what seemed like an easy sell and thus quick profit turned into work for her. Since then I have had tentative forays with agents, but it has usually gone nowhere, or where it has gone somewhere it has been with someone who seemed little more clued in to the world of publishing than I am. I anticipate flying solo for a while, as I'm not important enough to need an agent even if I'm self-important enough to want one.

All of these thoughts crossed my mind when I read Gina Barreca's fabulous post on literary agents at The Chronicle Review's blog Brainstorm. A generous excerpt:

Maybe it’s not impossible to get an agent who is responsive, responsible, intelligent, well-read, witty, and competent, even if you’re not selling a book that will immediately be made into a blockbuster Hollywood film. And maybe it’s not impossible for me to flap my arms and circle the moon.

Ask any writers — working authors, especially those known as “midlist,” meaning that they’ve sold books but have not had action-figures based on their characters — about their search for the perfect literary representative, and they will clutch you by the collar and, as their eyes narrow into gimlets, they’ll launch into a saga that makes the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” sound positively catchy.

You’ll hear versions of “Although I sent my manuscript to an agent recommended by a colleague and haven’t heard back from her in 27 months, I’m afraid to send a follow-up e-mail because I’ll sound too pushy”; “My agent said even though he’s never actually read anything I’ve sent him, he’s sure he can place something as soon as he gets around to it and that I’m a valuable member of his circle of authors”; “My agent told me she loved my book, just loved it, and that I shouldn’t take another contract for a different manuscript because this one was a sure-fire-winner until, oops, two months later she read the rest of my book and decided she wouldn’t be able to sell it after all and, umm, terribly sorry about that whole not-taking-the-other-contract thing.”

My favorite illustration of the relationship between writers and agents is as follows: After a difficult day a struggling writer returns to his neighborhood and is shocked to find a cadre of police and fire trucks surrounding the smoldering remains of his house. Explaining who he was he asks, “What happened?” “Well,” one of the officer’s says, “It seems that your agent came by your house earlier today and while he was here he attacked your wife, assaulted your children, beat your dog and burned your house to the ground.” The writer is struck speechless, his jaw hanging open in disbelief…. “My agent came to my house?”

Read the whole thing. Including the comments, where there are a couple of almost-but-not-quite plausible defenses of agents.

Literary Forays

A few bits and pieces on literature and public intellectuals have cauight my eye in recent days. here's a rundown for your reading pleasure. After poring through them I feel a bit guilty about not providing some deep thoughts and well-constructed insights, but sometimes it's ok to let the work speak for itself.

At The New Republic Christopher Benfey reviews two vital Library of America collections of Edmund Wilson's work. Benfey describes Wilson as "a marmoreal figure, a sort of jowly Supreme Court justice of the literary imagination" in this long and often insightful review essay. The Library of America has been for a long time now creating an indispensible, well, library of American writers and their works with far-ranging tastes and interests. These two volumes fit perfectly into the LOA mission.

At the Chronicle Review historian Michal Kazin wrestles with living in the shadow of a towering figure in American intellectual life. I am far more familiar with the work of the father than the son, so the whole thing seems a bit dynastic for my decidedly not to-the-menner-born background, but Kazin treats his subject, which is in some ways himself, with honety and verve and in so doing tells us something about the changing nature of the American life of the mind in the past half century and more.

In the most recent New York Times Sunday Book Review Gil Troy reviews (Williams alum) Edward Larson's new book on the 1800 election, A Magnificent Catastrophe: The Tumultuous Election of 1800, America’s First Presidential Campaign. The review and the book now have me thinking about an op-ed I might write comparing the 1800 election to a more current affair.

Finally, for those of you into lists (and the untilately false but reassuring hierarchy and order they provide) the Sunday Book review has also provided lists of 100 Notable Books of the Year and the ten best books of 2007. I'd be interested to hear your choices for 2007's best books given that I am voting for just such an honor in the next few weeks and would like to be reminded of some of the good stuff, from all genres, that came out in 2007.

The Culture of Books and Reviewing

Over at The New Republic James Walcott reviews Gail Pool's new book Faint Praise: The Plight of Book Reviewing in America. This probably seems like one of those discussions that only effete snobs and pointy-headed intellectuals care about. And maybe it is. But effete snobs and pointy-headed intellectuals are not always wrong and more often than those who castigate them would like to believe, are quite often right. I don't think that it creates a mythologized or idealized past to argue that there was once a more vibrant culture of books and book reviewing in the United States and that now as much as ever there are the means and mechanisms to have such a culture again but that there seems not to be the will and the desire.

Klein on Wenner and Seymour on Thompson

This weekend's New York Times Book Review has Joe Klein's assessment of Jann Wenner and Corey Seymour's new oral history, Gonzo: The Life of Hunter S. Thompson. I discovered and devoured Thompson's ouvre when most people do: in high school and college. He was a force of nature, the sine qua non of Gonzo journalism. But unlike a lot of the work of many of his colleagues, and unlike most of the Beat movement that led the way to The New Journalism, the high falutin' term for Gonzo, Thompson's best work has aged pretty well.

As for the book, Klein writes:

“Gonzo” is a wonderfully entertaining chronicle of Hunter’s wild ride, but it is also a detailed, painful account of his self-destructive immersions; the brutality he visited upon his wife, Sandy; and the anguish of a life that veered from inspired performance art to ruinous solipsism.

I'll certainly read Wenner and Seymour's book at some point, but even before I do, I'm sure I'll revisit some of Thompson's work. With the election coming up, I may well go back to Thompson's tour de force, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail, 72, which reveals Thompson not only as the doyen of Gonzo journalists, but also as an acerbic, uproarious, and astute political observer.

Tolkien and Lewis at the Eagle and Child

Imagine that you are a resident of Oxford in the 1930s and 1940s. And let's say that one of your regular pub stops is the Eagle and Child, a reasonable proposition if you like pubs in Oxford, though I find it a bit too cramped and oddly laid out. But no matter. Odds are that in your perambulations you'd occasionally run into the Inklings, an informal group of writers that included JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis, who whiled away hours at the pub often referred to as "The Bird and the Baby" after their somewhat more formal gab sessions about their work and writing generally. The latest Times Literary Supplement has a review of Diana Pavlak Glyer's The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community which explores this remarkable ferment of talent and socializing.

dcat Quick Hits

A few interesting things that have crossed my desktop today, with brief commentary:

The Guardian is running a series of great interviews of the twentieth century. Yesterday the paper reproduced an edited version of a 1936 New York Post interview with a dissolute F. Scott Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald is one of my favorite writers, and it is difficult to separate him from his era, both for good and ill. For all the glamour and glitz of his 1920s incarnation the Fitzgerald of the 1930s was a seedy and pathetic character whose talent shone only intermittently. This interview captures that version of the man who embodied one normative, if not normal, slice of the 1920s.

USA Today gives props to the University of New Hampshire's quarterback, Ricky Santos. Despite its long-standing excellence in hockey and recent successes on the gridiron, UNH has never been able to win a national championship in any sport. Santos, who has led the Wildcats to victory over IA teams in each of the last three seasons, hopes this will be the year, though sitting at the top of the rankings is an Appalachian State team that has managed to garner a few votes in the IA polls after its upset victory over Michigan. (Hat Tip to the Thunderstick, reporting from the southern edges of the Granite State.)

Pool play in the Rugby World Cup in France is well underway and as of now South Africa, New Zealand, and Australia, the SANZAR/Tri-Nations powers, look like potential champions. The Washington Post travel section has a feature on the scene in France as one of the world's greatest and most popular sporting events works its way toward the awarding of the William Webb Ellis Cup. I have but two words: Go Amobokoboko!

Also from the Post is this article on Virginia's Civil Rights in Education Heritage Trail. I have more than a passing interest in this subject, having been a fellow with both the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and the Virginia Historical Society, and I would like to see the trail expanded to include many of the locations in Virginia where blacks and their white allies challenged arenas other than education. We have a tendency to compartmentalize aspects of the Movement that to my mind need merging into a narrative whole. Nonetheless, it is nice to see Virginia, too often overlooked in favor of the hot spots in Mississippi and Alabama, getting its due as an important theater of struggle during the Civil Rights era.

If you see issues of gay rights as fundamentally questions of civil rights, as I do, the decision of Maryland's highest court to uphold the state's ban on gay rights will serve as a reminder of how far we have to go. The case cannot be appealed to the Supreme Court, though the judges did not rule out political action to remove the law in question.

Charles Pierce at Slate has as good an argument as any for why all of the hoopla over the Patriots in the last week may simply drive them to dominate the NFL this season. I hope so.

Finally, and most self-indulgently, I've been busy over at the South Africa Blog, where I have lots on Zimbabwe and a whole host of other topics related to South Africa and the region. Enjoy!

Misery Loves Company?

Ahh, the reader's report. Any writer of even modest accomplishment (that would be me, with the emphasis on "modest") has received them. Sometimes they are glowing. Sometimes they are eviscerating. Usually they lean toward the "this is good, but this is what I'd like to see the author do differently," which is usually followed by a strinbg of suggestions that would radically change the book that the author has written into the book the writer of the report wishes he had written. These reports can also be problematic -- almost always they are anonymous; almost always they are given far too much priviledge inasmuch as the author of the book is almost always more of an authority at least on the specific topic of the project; and when there are multiple reports, publishers will always ignore the most favorable in order to make the author engage the most critical irrespective of the merits of these reports.

In this week's New York Times Sunday Book Review the Pulitzer Prize winning historian David Oshinsky has a wonderful essay based on his poring through the reports in the massive collection from publishing powerhouse Knopf that is located at the University of Texas' Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center. That hostile letter you just received via your editor? After reading this essay you can take some solace in the fact that you are not alone. In fact you join a rather long and distinguished list. Congratulations!

The Jimmy Fund, A Story, and a Reminder

Dan Shaughnessy has a reputation, largely deserved, of being one of those sportswriters who looks for weak spots and sticks the knife in and twists. But when Shaughnessy, who was long, long ago my favorite sportswriter, is on, he is still capable of greatness.

(Contrast this with Rick Reilly, who inexplicably is arguably the most famous and revered sportswriter alive, largely on the basis of his column, "Life of Reilly," on the back page of Sports Illustrated. Reilly's columns come in two types: The attempts at being clever, which rarely are. And the attempts at being sentimental, which always are. And that's not necessarily a good thing.)

If Reilly wants an example of a good column addressing an emotional topic, he could do worse than this Shaughnessy piece from Sunday's Boston Globe in which he discusses the red Sox's recent Jimmy Fund campaign and its confluence with events of 40 years ago when Tony C was beaned in the face. Here is a lump-inducing sample:

A lot of the '67 guys are back in town this weekend and they were standing behind home plate, in uniform, Friday night when 7-year-old Jimmy Fund patient Jordan Leandre sang the anthem, then circled the bases before the second game of the day-night doubleheader.

You can have your Carlton Fisk homer in '75, or David Ortiz's walkoff against the Angels in the ALDS in '04, or even Ted's clout off Jack Fisher in his final major league at-bat in 1960. Jordan's tour de bases was more meaningful and emotional. A lot of us hadn't seen the brave little guy since the home opener in 2006 when he sang the anthem from a wheelchair.

The chair was gone Friday, another victory for the Jimmy Fund. And in the final hours of a two-day WEEI/NESN Radio-Telethon in which citizens of Red Sox Nation pledged more than $3.6 million, Jordan gave us a moment for the ages. He was wearing a T-shirt that read, "Making Dreams Possible," and he was running on legs that weren't strong enough to allow him to stand last year.

This was his 10th anthem at Fenway, but his first without a brace, a cast, or a chair. He ran for every kid who ever battled cancer and every Boston baseball fan who ever put a quarter in a Jimmy Fund box. And when he crossed home plate, staggering to the finish, he was swept up and held aloft by Jose Santiago, who won the final game of the August '67 series with the Angels, a game in which the Sox trailed, 8-0, in the fourth inning.

The Sox fundraiser for the Jimmy Fund was a huge success, pulling in nearly $3.5 million, largely over the course of Friday's day-night doubleheader against the Angels. No team in any sport is as closely connected to a charity as the Sox are with the Jimmy Fund and few teams in any sport would be capable of holding a fundraiser of that magnitude. The Jimmy Fund is also one of dcat's main go-to charities, and it is worth reminding many of you about dcat's charity drive, to which it is never too late to make a commitment. Click here for details, and make your commitment either in the comments here, the comments at that link, or as many have done, via email, based either on the remainder of the season or on the season as a whole.

George Packer's Blog

George Packer now has a blog, Interesting Times, at The New Yorker's website.