Listening to Voices

           The New York Times Book Review editors asked Dean Koontz what book he thought was most "disappointing, overrated, just not good."  I didn't care that he listed Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse because I never liked it much either.  But he also says he stops reading when he realizes the author has embraced his character's nihilism.  But why stop there?  I stop reading when the author embraces his character's religious faith, Marxism, capitalism, feminism, politics, sexual preferences, psychological school of thought--just about any agenda.  I don't go to fiction to be instructed in the author's way of looking at the world.  I go to fiction to hear a voice telling me about people and places, moods and feelings, the sort of thing we used to call "universal" in our stories and poems.  And even then, if I don’t like the voice, I’ll stop reading pretty quickly.  There are simply too many books out there to bother with the voices you don’t like listening to.

The Redemption of an Over-aged Baseball Fan

          I'm embarrassed to be a baseball fan.

          It would be all right if I were just a casual fan who sees an occasional game, a guy who secretly finds the whole thing boring.  It is.  I realize that.  For one thing, baseball games are way too long.  Managers teach their hitters to go "deep in the count," which in baseball lingo means 3 and 2 counts and lots of foul balls.  Make the pitcher work.  Get his pitch count up and up until the opposing manager has to take him out, which is good because you want to get into the other team's bullpen.  That's when our guys might be able to put a couple of runs on the board.  Slow the game down.  Get those pitchers tired.

          Pitchers slow the game down too, especially when they have to work out of trouble.  With runners on base, pitchers often go into slow-motion--rub the ball down, walk around the mound, reach for the rosin bag, shake off the catcher's signals, throw over to first to keep the runner close, call the third baseman over for a chat about who should cover a bunt.  Lord, a half inning can run half an hour.

          But I love every minute of it.  It's high drama.  And my emotional life hangs in the balance--absolute, pure elation on the one hand, total, heart-breaking depression on the other.  And of course, that's why I'm embarrassed to be a baseball fan, especially now that I'm 72.  Shouldn't such feelings have passed by now?  Gone the way of all youthful passions?  But there I am at the TV most nights with the sound turned off so I can read some book or do some lap work.  I care.  Damn it all to Hell.  I care.

          Today, however, I feel a little better about all this.  My good friend Jim Kozelsky gave me his copy of Sports Illustrated, which has an article by Tom Verducci on "The Passion of Roger Angell," one of those magnificent New Yorker writers I've been reading for years.  If you know baseball at all, you know Angell's essays on the national pastime.  I won't heap superfluous praise on one of the great writers of our age, but note please that he is to be enshrined, at age 93, into baseball's Hall of Fame today, July 26, 2014.  He'll be receiving the J.G. Taylor Spink Award, the "highest honor given by the Baseball Writers Association of America," according to Verducci.  And it's worth saying that Roger Angell is not a member of BBWAA because he isn't a major league beat writer.  He's way better than that.

          And here's why I'm posting this entry:  Roger Angell loves baseball the same way I do--and he too knows that it's embarrassing, but  he also sees our redemption.  Verducci quotes Angell:  "It is foolish and childish, on the face of it, to affiliate ourselves with anything so insignificant and patently contrived and commercially exploitative as a professional sports team, and the amused superiority and icy scorn that the non-fan directs at the sports nut (I know this look--I know it by heart) is understandable and almost unanswerable.  Almost.  What is left out of this calculation, it seems to me, is the business of caring--caring deeply and passionately, really caring--which is a capacity or an emotion that has almost gone out of our lives.  And so it seems possible that we have come to a time when it no longer matters so much what the caring is about, how frail or foolish is the object of that concern, as long as the feeling itself can be saved.  Naivete--the infantile and ignoble joy that sends a grown man or woman to dancing and shouting with joy in the middle of the night over the haphazardous flight of a distant ball--seems a small price to pay for such a gift."
 
          I couldn't have said it better myself--of course.  Few could.  I'm just happy, thrilled even, that this grand old man of baseball has said if for me.  Bravo.  And thank you.

Thoughts on Joseph Smith's "American Crucifixion"

Today's New York Times Book Review has a review by Benjamin Moser of Alex Beam's book American Crucifixion:  The Murder of Joseph Smith and the Fate of the Mormon Church (published by something called PublicAffairs and selling for $26.99).

I doubt I'll ever read the book, but I was taken with a few facts I hadn't known about crazy Joseph Smith and the spiritual phenomenon known as Mormonism, which he invented.  First, Mormonism is a religion “whose followers believe that the Earth was created somewhere in the neighborhood of the planet Kolob, and that the Garden of Eden was created somewhere in the neighborhood of Kansas City."  That sort of thing has made Mormonism such an inviting target for mockery that “there's no sport in scorning it," according to the review—and attacking Smith himself is so easy that it amounts to "a distasteful piling on."

But the reviewer piles on anyway:  Smith in the 1820s "began to 'translate' from tablets he kept wrapped in a tablecloth, a series of visions that became the Book of Mormon, a turgid sci-fi novel that nonetheless managed to sway a nucleus of converts."  But so many people hated Smith that he was murdered by a lynch mob when he was 38 in 1844.  

 His “crucifixion” changed everything.  Silly and infuriating as Smith may have been in life, in death he was elevated beyond sainthood into godhood itself.  He became "a flamboyant frontier L. Ron Hubbard."  That is, for his followers Smith was much greater in death than he had ever been in life, for in death he joined all the other "miracle"-making saviors throughout history.  And it’s also true that by any logical standard, it is no more difficult to believe in him and Mormonism than "than it is to believe that Moses parted the Red Sea, or that Muhammad ascended to heaven on a winged horse, or that Jesus was born of a virgin."

Take it all together, and you have a story worth retelling, as  Alex Beam has done by taking familiar materials and refashioning them into an irreverent new book.  That sort of work gets my attention and applause--which is as far as I'll go in the way of a secular genuflection—to Beam, that is, not Smith.  I might even read the damn book.

Addendum:  According to a front-page story in the New York Times on November 10, 2014, Smith had a “loyal partner” in his “loving spouse Emma,” but nevertheless “took as many as 40 wives,” including one who was only 14.  He even married women already married, sometimes to his friends and followers.  Polygamy, in Smith's self-serving theology, was the restoration of a practice "commanded by God" and followed by Abraham and other Old Testament patriarchs—which thus enabled him to claim full biblical immunity for a super-charged sex life.  American Crucifixion is now officially elevated to “on my nightstand” status.  I’ve got to know more about this guy.

Whining Poets

          I'm tired of poets whining about the public not appreciating them.  I know more poets than most people do because I've spent my life in colleges and universities which have taken them in as Writers in Residence (comfy positions for poets whose names are sometimes recognized) and as faculty members in creative writing departments around the country.  One blogger claimed in 2012 there were 71 MFA programs (Masters in Fine Arts) and another 112 programs where poets can teach Creative Writing majors; the blogger estimated there are at least 800 new MFA's given out every year.  I doubt if anyone knows how many are poets.  But my guess is too many.

          I like poetry and have written about it, and about poets, most of my professional career.  But there is no way anyone can keep up with the the annual tidal wave of new poets, new books of poetry, and new schools training them.  And it should be made clear from the outset that there are many more good poets now than there ever have been before.  But because of their sheer numbers, they go unread.

          The poets themselves and the Creative Writing programs they come from are their own audiences.  They attend each other's readings and pretend there is a place for them someplace else in the literate universe.  That is delusional, but it's a fiction they all hold on to--just as they hold on to the idea that they are under-read and under-appreciated.  Their usual posture is a sort of hang-dog look of disappointment and lofty superiority, a difficult combination that they manage with the same irritating panache observed in perpetually misunderstood teenagers.

          I think maybe they should take a close look at T. S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens, both of whom worked for a living, Eliot as a banker at first, then in the publishing business, and Stevens in the insurance world.  They didn't whine about audiences.  They wrote when they could, squeezed it in between other obligations.  Nothing hang-dog about them.

God and Superstition

Superstition.  noun

su·per·sti·tion

1.  Excessively credulous belief in and reverence for supernatural beings:  "He dismissed the ghost stories as mere superstition."
2.  Unfounded belief, credulity, fallacy, delusion.
3.  A widely held but unjustified belief in supernatural causation.
Synonyms:  myth, belief, old wive's tale.  

No one wants to be known as superstitious, so gullible as to believe things that are clearly untrue.  We smile with superiority at the person who believes good luck comes from a rabbit's foot, bad luck from a black cat; that toads cause warts and eating fish will make you smart.  We're way too smart to believe in things like that.

And yet no one who believes in God thinks he's being superstitious.  

Speaking of Crosswords. . .

          I bow in admiration to the men and women who construct crossword puzzles, "cruciverbalists."  I tried for a while to construct my own, and did manage to put two or three together, with great pride, I might add, but all I could manage was the bare-bones success of a school boy.  And I knew by constant exposure to the great constructors that I would never be able to match their wittiness and intricate patterning--their genius.  

          So I gave it up and now sit back and enjoy the brilliant puzzles they have put together.  For me.  And you too.  I know most of them don't do it for the money because unless they grind out a great many of them, it isn't likely they can make much of a living with this talent..  They earn part-time money by being fiendishly creative, while I spend a few late night hours, when I am unfit for proper work, by trying to match wits with them.  They're my heroes--and I thank them all.  

          What follows is a sampling of great minds having fun in a 15 x 15 grid. 

From The New York Times Ultimate Crossword Omnibus:  1001 Puzzles from the Pages of The New York Times (2003), edited by Will Shortz.

Constructor                 Puzzle No.      Clue / Answer

Ernie Furtado              19                  Eschew food  /  fast

Norma Steinberg         21                 Worthless agreements? /  mtpromises

                                                            Nonchalant view of fortune  / ezcomeezgo

Trip Payne                   27                   Battle types  /  Sopranos

                                                            Express wonderment  /   oohandahh

Chuck Deodene          34                   Cleaned a windshield  /  squeegeed

Wayne Robert Williams  39             Coming out on top?  /  bald

Jim Page                      44                  Turning  /  aswirl

Trip Payne                   45                   What you used to be  /  thou

                                                            Great shakes?  /  hulas

                                                            Camels’ destinations?  /  ashtrays

Bob Sefick                  73                   Clicker that might be used on a trawler?  /  castanet

Harvey Estes               94                   Square meal?  /  ravioli

Harvey Estes               152                 Perform perfectly  /  dotoat

A.J. Santora                155                  Stone-broke  /  assetless

Nancy Joline               161                 Easter preceder  /  nor

Nancy S. Ross             170                 A.M. or P.M., e.g.  /  abbr

Jim Page                      177                 Classics trio  /  esses

Rich Norris                  183                One whose work is decreasing?  /  ironer

Brendan Emmett Quigley  224          Steve Forbes is surrounded by them  /  esses

Bryant White              225                  St. Lawrence sight  /  1001islands

                                                              extremely rare  /  1ina1000000

Chuck Deodene          239                  Outdoor air / serenade

Charles Gersch            269                 Concert finale / ina

Gregory E. Paul          271                  It may be rounded on a diamond / third [base]

Jim Page                      274                  Contents of some sleeves / lps

Elizabeth Gorski         275                  Life in the early days / embryo

Lois Sidway                278                   Make or break, e.g. / verb

Sidney Robbins           293                  Bosom companions  /  bras

Jonathan Schmalzbach  359                Nom de crook  /  alias

Chuck Deodene          363                   Eyesores or eye sores  /  sties

Richard Hughes          379                   Y’s half brothers  /  aeiou

Jonathan Schmalzbach  380                Seagoing departure from a Scandinavian capital? / 

                                                                        osloboattochina

                                                               Aggressive personality in the Far East?  / 

                                                                        taipeibehavior

                                                               South American football player?  /  sandiegocharger

Cathy Millhauser         381                  Like mosquitoes at a camp?  /  maliciousintent

Stephanie Spadaccini  384                   Item filed by a secretary?  /  nail

Alfo Micci                   393                  M  /  firstofthemonth
                                                               O  /  secondincommand
                                                               Y  /  thefourthofjuly
                                                               E  /  beethovensthird

Richard Thomas          428                   Food bar  /  oleo

Harvey Estes               446                   Scoundrel, to Betsy Ross?  sewandsew

                                                               Completely, to a pitcher?  threwandthrew

                                                               Presently, to a shopaholic?  buyandbuy

David J. Kahn             447                    Pavarotti, to fans  /  kingofthehighcs

Martin Ashwood-Smith  460               It turns into a different story  /  spiralstaircase

Randolph Ross            464                   Dressing place  /  cruet

                                                               [clue 54A]  =  /  twoxtwentyseven]

Harvey Estes               470                   Final copy:  Abbr.  /  obit

Randolph Ross            555                   Minnesota twins  /  ens [the letter “n”]

David J. Kahn             584                    “Where’s my watch?” asked Captain Hook____  / 

                                                                         offhandedly

                                                               “Get lost, Toto!”  shouted the Tin Man____  / 

                                                                        heartlessly

                                                               “I’m a beauty,” said Venus de Milo____  / 

                                                                        disarmingly

Lois Sidway                599                    Not dose  /  dese

Bryant White              602                    Coasters for Socrates, e.g.  /  anagram

Kiran S. Kedlaya        627                    Betraying, briefly  /  doublexing

Sidney L. Robbins      646                    Saying  /  saw

Manny Nosowsky       654                    Where exes are made  /  reno

Lois Sidway                668                    Overhead lighting?  /  halo

Norma Steinberg         669                   Marriage?  /  altaredstate

Chuck Deodene          749                    Acupuncturist’s fee?  stickerprice

                                                               Dermatologist’s pronouncement?  rashdecision

                                                               Arthroscopic surgeries?  /  jointventures

Martin Schneider        852                   B  /  cflat

Hugh Davis                 857                    Like some kisses and bases  /  stolen

Bob Klahn                   885                    Fall setting  /  eden

Martin Ashwood-Smith  890               Appropriate cry for Crusoe?  /  tgif

Patrick Jordan             896                   Isn’t on the street?  /  aint

Martin Ashwood-Smith

and Bob Klahn            904                    Hamlet’s relatives  /  towns

William Bernhardt      914                   Peter or the Wolfe?  /  nero

Richard Silvestri         924                   Works on pumps, maybe  /  resoles

Jim Page                      944                   At first  /  onbase

Elizabeth Gorski         955                   Child, for one  /  chef 

Frances Hansen           974                   Result of a burning desire  / arson