Dirda on Books

Michael Dirda (The Washington Post)

Prize-winning critic Michael Dirda takes your questions and comments concerning literature, books and the joys of reading.

Each week Dirda's name appears -- in unmistakably big letters -- on page 15 of The Post's Book World section. If he's not reviewing a hefty literary biography or an ambitious new novel, he's likely to be turning out one of his idiosyncratic essays or rediscovering some minor Victorian classic. Although he earned a Ph.D. in comparative literature from Cornell, Dirda has somehow managed to retain a myopic 12-year-old's passion for reading. He particularly enjoys comic novels, intellectual history, locked-room mysteries, innovative fiction of all sorts.

These days, Dirda says he still spends inordinate amounts of time mourning his lost youth, listening to music (Glenn Gould, Ella Fitzgerald, Diana Krall, The Tallis Scholars), and daydreaming ("my only real hobby"). He claims that the happiest hours of his week are spent sitting in front of a computer, working. His most recent books include "Readings: Essays and Literary Entertainments" (Indiana hardcover, 2000; Norton paperback, 2003) and his self-portrait of the reader as a young man, "An Open Book: Coming of Age in the Heartland" (Norton, 2003). In the fall of 2004 Norton will bring out a new collection of his essays and reviews. He is currently working on several other book projects, all shrouded in the most complete secrecy.

Dirda joined The Post in 1978, having grown up in the working-class steel town of Lorain, Ohio and graduated with highest honors in English from Oberlin College. His favorite writers are Stendhal, Chekhov, Jane Austen, Montaigne, Evelyn Waugh, T.S. Eliot, Nabokov, John Dickson Carr, Joseph Mitchell, P.G. Wodehouse and Jack Vance. He thinks the greatest novel of all time is either Murasaki Shikubu's "The Tale of Genji" or Proust's "A la recherche du temps perdu." In a just world he would own Watteau's painting "The Embarkation for Cythera." He is a member of the Baker Street Irregulars, The Ghost Story Society, and The Wodehouse Society. He enjoys teaching and was once a visiting professor in the Honors College at the University of Central Florida, which he misses to this day.

The transcript follows.

Editor's Note: Washingtonpost.com moderators retain editorial control over Live Online discussions and choose the most relevant questions for guests and hosts; guests and hosts can decline to answer questions.

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Oxford, UK: On the subject of dustjackets -- why do UK and American editions have different covers? Is it because they are published by different groups (like Harry Potter)? The American version of "Atonement," for example, is static and uninspirational to the core while the British cover actually managed to convey something of the atmosphere of the beginning of the book across to the reader.

On the other hand, there really ought be a rule against using the same drawing/painting/illustration on different books. The mass paperbacks of "Wuthering Heights" and "Summer" have the same cover (not sure who is guilty of this -- Signet? Bantam?) -- you'd think this is bad marketing practice, since people would be more inclined to glance at the cover and think "I've read WH, no need to buy it." But then maybe that's just me.

Michael Dirda: Welcome to Dirda on Books! Today's Big Broadcast--Netcast?--comes to you from beautiful Westminster, Maryland, home of McDaniel College, where I'll be teaching this spring. McDaniel--formerly the Western College of Maryland--has been around since the 1860s, and is one of those picture-perfect small colleges, with interesting architecture, dedicated faculty and administration, and a wide variety of students. I'm grateful for the chance to be part of its community for a while. My two classes are: Love's Mysteries, which covers love in the western world, from Plato to Patsy Cline, and Literary Journalism.
This week we were going to talk about dust jackets a bit, and the whole subject of telling a book by its cover. But of course questions on any aspect of books, reviewing or publishing are always welcome.
On with the show!

I suppose the djs tend to be different largely because publishers sometimes diagree on what will appeal most to their readers. I'm told that Tom Wolfe's novel I am Charlotte Simmons has a much more provocative cover in the UK--a girl's bare midriff being the central image--while the cover in the US. is simply typographical. Why? I suppose that Wolfe's US publisher wanted to present him as a somewhat more serious artist, while in the UK they went for titillation.
My guess is that publishing house, like copy editors, feel obliged to fiddle with things and so tend to believe they can come up with something better than their transatlantic cousins.
As for using the same images: Well, I think I"ve seen that lone traveler, from a Caspar David Friedrich painting, on three or four dust jackets. That out of copyright images may have already been used probably doesn't register on art directors or jacket designers. What would Penguin do without John Singer Sargent?

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Lexington, Ky.: Michael, I believe we're discussing dust jackets today. I think publishers began using them in the 20s, mostly as advertising. Of course, they're the most fragile part of the book and have become essential to be kept in great condition for the value of the book; if you're a collector of books, ignore this at your peril.

My major complaint about dust jackets today is that they're in many ways as irritating as movie previews. They give away most of the plot and sometimes key plot points. They're still primarily advertising and that includes the 'blurbs' from other writers. I know the idea is to give sell a potential reader on the book, but why give away so much of the story the author worked so diligently on, and meant to be revealed gradually?

Incidentally, loved your 'Faustian' short story in All Hallows! Will there be more?

Michael Dirda: Well, I'm tickled you liked my jeu d'esprit. "Dukedome Large Enough" is a light-hearted supernatural tale about two Washington book collectors and a deal with the Devil. Part of its twist comes with the biographical note about me.
I will probably try to write some more fiction, but don't quite know the direction it will take. Of course, you are assuming--against all the evidence--that "Dukedom" is fiction.
I never read the jacket copy on books. I will glance at the back covers to see if there are interesting blurbs, but I've learned--as you have--that too often the jacket will reveal too much of the plot. THis is a difficult point for reviewers too. In England critics will often tell far more of the story than we do in America, feeling that the artistry is what's important and that they need to discuss the whole book in order to show their intellectual acumen. In newspapers we try to be more circumpsect. When I write about a novel I often mention narrative points out of order, carefully do not identify character's, and never reveal the final untangling. Still it can be tricky, and one of an editor's jobs is often to strip away plot summary from fiction reviews.

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Fair Oaks, Va.: I like the faux-linen dust jackets on Pope John Paul II's books, published by Jonathan Cape/London: brilliant white ground, shiny gold borders and papal coat of arms, clear lettering in purple and red.

I also like the covers of some books I bought in the 1970s from the antique vendors who periodically showed up at Landmark Mall in Alexandria. They are late 19th century English and French books, about 4 inches high, with embossed art nouveau designs in muted colors (example: silver on dove grey).
I bought what I could afford (most have "$2.00" penciled on the fly leaf) and based my selection solely on the prettiness of the covers.

My biggest prize from Landmark was a 4-volume set--"Letters Containing a Sketch of the Politics of France", by Helen Maria Williams--published in 1796. I didn't buy these for the covers, though, which are simply polished leather. I just was thrilled at the chance to own something this old.

Michael Dirda: I don't know that last book, but it certainly sounds like one of important historical interest, coming only a decade after the Revolution and during the early years of Napoleon.
I've occasionally bought late 19th-century, early 20th-century titles for the designs on the covers: I like those with elaborate artistry, blind stamped or awash in swirls and filigree.
By the way, Lexington is slightly off about dustjackets--they go back to the end of the 19th century, though they were not common and few have survived. No doubt one could argue for an evern greater antiquity. However, modern book collectors don't really figure on finding djs on books before the 1920s.

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Silver Spring, Md.: I recently saw "The Presidents" mini-series on The History Channel and came away really wanting to know more about Abraham Lincoln. Can you recommend a very good, in-depth biography that is not an exhaustive tome? I know there is a new, "controversial" book out about him but would love any recommendations that you might have. Thanks!

Michael Dirda: Let me ask for help on this. Carl Sandburg's old set is pretty widely dismissed these days, largely I gather for sugar-coating Lincoln. There's an old life by Lord Charnwood that's supposed to be good. But I'm sure there are good contemporary biographies that are escaping me just now. The last thing I read on Lincoln was Garry Will's Lincoln at Gettysburg, which related the context for the great speech.

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Cleveland Park, Washington, D.C.: Thanks to your recommendation, I am just about to finish David Lodge's wonderful "Small World." Are there any other novels/authors that have the same witty air--they don't necessarily have to be campus novels?

Michael Dirda: You can go back to Changing Places, which first presents Professors Zapp and Swallow--it's very funny. So too is Randall Jarrell's Pictures from an Institution. Darker is Maccolm Bradbury's The History Man. I'm told that Richard Russo's Straight Man is a very funny campus novel. Also, I'm fond of the scathingly witty, but somewhat overlong, The Lecturer's Tale, by James Hynes.

The academic comedy is a flourishing genre and there's much to read and collect.

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Dallas, Tex.: Michael, last week you had a comment from somebody who was looking for books that contained some real "surprises." I know you've enjoyed Donald Westlake's "The Ax;" I also recommend "The Hook," which includes such amazing, unforeseen twists that the reader is forced to revisit a passage or two to be sure they really happened and aren't the result of your own imagination.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks.

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Lansdale, Pa.: Hi Michael,
I know no one who has read "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell" and I need to ask this question of some who has.

SPOILER ALERT

Does it make sense to you that the spell of darkness is still enforced at the end of the book even after the man with thistledown hair has been undone? Was this Clarke's lead-in to the plot of a sequel where the perpetrator of this spell will be revealed? Or was there some explanation for this within the novel itself that I missed?

Thanks for your consideration of this burning question.

Michael Dirda: I can't answer this question myself without going back and tracking the details of the plot. But clearly the novel leaves itself open for a sequel. Whether the world wants one is another question.

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Transatlantic Publishing: Here's a related question about imports from the UK: How common is it to change the actual text from UK spelling and vocabulary for the US publication of a novel? I heard that this was done with the Harry Potter books. True? What about authors like McEwan? What a horrible, horrible idea. I remember with great affection reading the Chronicles of Narnia as a child and enjoying figuring out, for example, what a "torch" (flashlight) was.

Michael Dirda: It happens sometimes. The Dr. Doolittle books were slightly fiddled with in later years, partly for the American market but largely for the implied racism of some of the episodes in Africa.
The worst example I know is Lawrence Norfolk's Lempriere's Dictionary, where a fifth of the book was lopped off the first American edition. It was felt that these fantasy elements would get the book shelved as a genre novel rather than an innovative mainstream fiction. Norfolk, being young and produly pressured, went along with this, but years later did get his preferred and fuller text restored for American paperbacks.
I can't think of a good example just now but I am sometimes surprised when I read British novels and discover American lingo--e.g. truck instead of lorry. It happens. But really it seems shortsighted, as part of the charm of "foreign" fiction is in going to a slightly strange place that isn't America.

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Dallas, Tex.: I'm planning to read Jeremy Treglown's V. S. Pritchitt: A Working Life which came out earlier this month. While Pritchett was recognized as a master of the short story, he's not fully appreciated for his versatility. His prolific output over his long life also included novels, literary criticism, biographies of writers, and travel books. It's sad, but it seems that there are not many people reading Pritchett these days.

Joseph Epstein noted some aphorisms in Pritchett's essays: "Travel is one of the great rivals of women." "Remove the vices of a novelist and his virtues vanish too." "There is more magic in sin if it is not committed" and "Literature is made of the misfortunes of others." -- Pritchett's literary essays were probably more appreciations than critical works; however, I do enjoy them.

Michael Dirda: I reviewed the Treglown biography--favorably with minor cavils--and made something of this same point: It seems to me that it much harder for a short-story writer to "survive" than a novelist. I suspected, like you, that Pritchett was already largely forgotten, even though he was acclaimed as Britain's finest writer of short stories and its best journalistic critic. I suspect his best book is the memoir A Cab at the Door. But I do reread a handful of his stories and frequently consult his big colelcted essays--he wrote about so many writers and nearly had interesting takes on them.
Still, it is a mug's game to think that literary popularity in one's lifetime will assure one of even minor immortality.

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Ocala, Fla.: Howdy,

I just finished a re-read of the novels of Dashiell Hammett: Red Harvest, Dain Curse, Maltese Falcon, Glass Key and Thin Man and am hungry for more. Is his short fiction available anywhere?

Michael Dirda: Sure. There's a Library of America (or is it Modern Library?) edition of his complete short fiction. Many people even prefer his early Continental Op stories to the later novels. A good guide to this material is: Reading Early Hammett, by LeRoy Panek, one of our greatest authorities on modern mysteries and detective fiction.

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Spell of Darkness: Spells, once cast, are not removed by the apparent banishment of their casters -- one could assume that since the fairy was smushed that that would guarantee the spell into perpetuity -- or until Norrell figures out its antidote.

A good read (if ultimately empty novel), it doesn't need a sequel....

Michael Dirda: Empty? Rather overfull, I thought.

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Arlington, Va.: Will your discussion of dust jackets encompass a question about spines? In the US, the text on the spine runs from top to bottom (i.e., the spine text is right-side-up when the book is lying with the front cover facing up). Is it true that in the rest of the world the spine text is the other way around?

What do you do, then, if you have a mixed collection of US and international books on your shelf? Do you just allow different spines to face different ways, or do you turn one collection upside down, so that the spines all face neatly in the same direction?

Michael Dirda: My sense is that in English the spines run the same way in America and Britain. I myself far prefer titles that are presented horizontally on the spine, rather than vertically--it looks classier and is certainly more "readable."
In other language, though, the spinal typography runs just the opposite. Or something. If I were home I'd go pull some French books off and check. Maybe I'm just imagining this.

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Arlington, Va.: I don't think you can mention Pictures from an Institution without also mentioning Pnin.

Michael Dirda: Actually I could mention it without mentioning Pnin, and did.
In truth, I should like Pnin more than I do, but it's not that funny, indeed much of its humor is quite painful. I admire Nabokov's prose, enjoy his Vlad the Impaler interview style, and love Lolita and Pale Fire, along with a few stories. I--sacrilege--find large parts of Speak, Memory a bit dull, and Ada--though gorgeous--is just a little too much for me. And yet I've collected Nabokov for years and find him a rewarding writer. Just not a lovable one.

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Arlington, Va.: Know any good cross country road books? (Either books about cross country trips or books good for cross country trips?)

Michael Dirda:
There are the classics: Kerouac's On the Road, Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motocycle Maintenance, perhpas Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways. John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley. You could even go back to something like Roughing It by Mark Twain.

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Washington, D.C.: Somewhat apropos of one of your new courses, I just recently read and loved Slouching Towards Bethlehem, in particular the closing essay, "Goodbye to All That." Can you recommend other similar works, particularly ones with that same wistful sense of melancholy?

Michael Dirda: Wistful sense of melancholy--you should obviously be reading the essays of M. Dirda.
You could go on to Didion's The White Album, to start with. That tone you like pervades The Great Gatsby and much of Raymond Chandler and even great poems like Eliot's Prufrock and The Waste Land.
Other suggestions?

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Brooklyn, N.Y.:
I intended to write in last week to share a book that I'm enjoying immensely--John Williams's Augustus. But I arrived home late for the chat, only to find in the transcript that it was mentioned in the first post last week!

Anyhow, the book is wonderful and I recommend it just as last week's reader did. But it did make me realize something about my recent reading habits. When one of my colleagues asked me about it, I had to confess that it was, at times, objectively boring (having studied classics, I know who the characters are, so that makes it interesting to me, but I'm certain for those less familiar with the characters, it's pretty boring stuff). Anyway, after this I joked that that's all I'm reading now are boring books -- can't stand anything else! But I realized later that I think this has become true. I've become distrustful of books that purport to be overtly interesting, prefering instead carefully prepared, non-ingratiating prose, that doesn't beg for your interest or attention and just lets information sort of wash over you and impresses with it's organization and clarity of thought.

I've recently got into reading an advance copy of a new biography of Augustine (fantastic), but stuff like Zadie Smith or books that lots of people seem to like, like this Curious Incident of the Dog...are not holding my attention at all. I can't even finish them. You ever feel yourself getting this way? I can usually enjoy those types of books.

Michael Dirda: This is a complicated, and subtle, point. There are times in life when razzle-dazzle starts to seem meretricious and tiring. In such moments, one does tend to gravitate toward more formal, cleassical works. So, for instance, Turgenev becomes the perfect novelist--and, it strikes me, often a master of that wistfulness a previous poster was asking about.
I think as one grows older too, one starts to prefer what one might call ars celare artem--the art that disguises art (or artfulness).

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Boston, Mass.: I'm wondering if you've had a chance to read any of this year's Booker short-listed books and, if so, what you thought of them. I've managed to read three so far: The Master, Cloud Atlas and the winner, In the Line of Beauty. I liked them all, especially The Master.

Michael Dirda: I read The Master and Line of Beauty, and liked them both very much, with reservations. I would have been hard pressed to choose between them but think I'd have opted for the Toibin as my winner.

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Arlington, Va.: Hi Michael --
I am a fairly faithful follower of your chat, and I don't remember ever seeing any discussion of C.P. Snow. I guess he's kind of fallen off the radar. I haven't read any of his books, but was browsing through a couple at a library booksale recently. It seems that those who read him, revere him. Are you a fan?

Michael Dirda: The onlh Snow I"ve read is The Two Cultures, his once famous essay bewailing the separation of the scientific and humanist spirit in our time. For years I've meant to read his mystery Death Under Sail, or The Master, about the election of an Oxford college's new head, but somehow never have. But I haven't given up hope. Recently I was reading around Robertson Davies and he was singing the praises of J.B. Priestley, whose work I would have thought I could safely neglect. (I did read some of his journalism and a book he did on Trollope, both with pleasure). On the other hand, I've always wanted to read his plays about time travel, based on the theories of J.W. Dunne, and have never come across them in used bookstores. Perhaps I haven't looked well enough. And perahps I should just check out the ol' library here at McDaniel--maybe I'll get lucky.

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Manhattan, N.Y.:
My favorite dustjacket is my first edition copy of Frank Conroy's Stop Time. All black with a Picasso-type portrait on the front, and clumsy type on the flap with dropped letters. It's just great.

Michael Dirda: yes, I remember that jacket. My favorite dj? Hmmm. There's the famous one for Gatsby--or the soft-focused nude on Jack Vance's Trullion or the pair of naked women on Westlake's Too Much. But the more I think about it, I can't think of many jackdets I've really liked. What I miss is the good solid bookcloth underneath--nowdays it's half cardboard with a stirp of book tape at the spine.
On the other hand, Gollancz used to have these utterly generic titles for its genre books--absolutely characterless, though probably appealing for just that reason.

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Lincoln bio: For a good, I thought, short bio of Honest Abe try the one in the Penguin bio series. Thomas Kennealy, or something close to that, I think is the author. Covers all the major points and then you can go on to others for further info and controversy. Abe, I do not think, was gay. I find that book a little silly.

Michael Dirda: thanks

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Washington, D.C.: In response to the two /Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell/ posts:

-Both Strange and Norrell acknowledge that killing an enchanter will break any magics s/he has done.
-Vinculus says that Strange and Norrell ARE John Uskglass's magic.
-After the demise of the man with the thistledown hair, Norrell comments that John Uskglass didn't see fit to recind the enchantment of darkness.
-These points lead me to wonder whether the man with the thistledown hair actually created the enchanted darkness or called upon John Uskglass or another power to create it for him.

Splitting hairs? Perhaps. Plot error on Clarke's part? Perhaps.

Michael Dirda: thanks. This obviously needs more detailed research. Or possibly not.

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Chevy Chase, Md.: For wistful melancholy you can't beat Joseph Mitchell's essays in Up in the Old Hotel. He caught old New York in the act of disappearing forever.

Michael Dirda: Oh, of course: Many thanks for reminding us. I should have remembered Mitchell, since I'm teaching Hoteland my entire review of it was emphasized its wistfulness and delicate melancholy.

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Academic Comic Novels: Aaargh! I am wracking my brain to remember the title of a fairly recent (probably 90s) novel about a writer who appeared once as one of Granta's top 20 young writers -- and has been living on the compliment ever since, with increasing envy toward those fellow nominees who have gone on to do better than he has (most notably Martin Amis). It's a great novel that the David Lodge reader would love, but I'm blanking out on the name! Michael? Anybody??

Michael Dirda: Could it be Julian Barnes? Flaubert's Parrot? Barnes has continued to write--A History of the World in 9 and a half Chapters was quite funny and good--but without quite catching on, at least in America. He and Amis were once friends, and quarrelled. Supposedly Amis' The Information is partly about Barnes.

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Winchester, Va.: Speaking of your courses this summer, I do hope you've taken a trip west on I66 to Winchester, the hometown of Patsy Cline? She, along with the apples, is the biggest news my little city has had since George Washington!

Michael Dirda: I've been to Winchester, and in fact found one of my greatest book treasures at a small used bookshop there: Richard Garnett's Twilight of the Gods, inscribed to Ford Madox Brown. They were close friends and Brown was Ford Madox Ford's painter grandfather. $5.

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Lenexa, Kan.: One spine problem I have to live with is that of a portrait of me standing in my library (some ill-conceived project of my wife's). I selected favorite life-journey books to appear behind me. I gave the artist some clues ("Mercy of a Rude Stream" needs to be broad", e.g.) but did make some assumptions. I now have a slender volume of "Ulysses" and a narrow one-volume representation of Proust's "Rememberance of Things Past" perched behind my smiling image. Any suggestions?

Michael Dirda: Tell your visitors that these were special export editions of the novels, printed on that famous Oxford thin Bible paper, and intended for the colonial market. You can go on to explain that you picked them up in Rangoon, or won them as a prize during a raffle at the Raffles Hotel. In fact, your particular copies had once belonged to Somerset Maugham and he carried them along in his book-bag during his various jaunts through Southeast Asia.

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Falls Church, Va.: Re: C. P. Snow. I can be counted as a reverer of Snow. Almost all my understanding of the politics of post-WWII nuclear science and British political culture came from him. I have appropriated all my mother's Strangers and Brothers series hardbacks (most of which have their original jackets, in odd colors), and I will not give them up without a fight.

Michael Dirda: So what should we read?

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Matiland, Fla.: I loved the dust jacket that was on my first edition of A Farewell to Arms and knew that my acquisitive quotient had been reduced by a quantum or two when I was able to give it to a very good friend as a Christmas present one year. I don't even pine for it ---- hardly. Well, at least not during the day.

Michael Dirda: Maitland. You again. Why I have an old friend in Maitland who teaches Hemingway (and Fitzgerald and Faulkner and Welty), and so gave a number of their books as gifts. As for pining: Well, it takes many forms.

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Munich, Germany: Speaking of book covers, a couple of years back, I was browsing the Heinemann website, and I came across the picture of a book called "Tribaliks" by a Congolese writer named Henri Lopes. I was so intrigued by the cover that I bought that book online without knowing anything about the book or the author.

It's a book of contemporary short stories set in The Congo, and Henri Lopes is a former Minister of Foreign Affairs and Prime Minister of the Congo-Brazzaville government. The title refers to the concept of tribalism, comparing it to nationalism and even cronyism.

Sometimes it's well worth taking a chance on a cover.

Michael Dirda: many thanks

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Washington, D.C.: Michael,

Lately I've been delving into "old" French lit along the lines of Madame Bovary, Count of Monte Cristo, and Les Miserables--all of which I enjoyed immensely. What should be next on my list?

Michael Dirda: Old--for a moment there I thought you were going to mention the Lays of Marie de France (old joke: What's a lay? A short romance) or The Chanson de Roland.
If you like 19th century French fiction you should read
the short stories of Merimee and Maupassant, Balzac (probably The Fatal Skin, Pere Goriot and Lost Illusions), Zola's Germinal, and Stendhal's Red and the Black. I'm also fond of Adolphe by Benjamin Constant and Huysman's A Rebours (Against the Grain). These should keep you busy a while.

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Minnetonka, Minn.: Michael,
Can you think of any literary connection between Oscar Wilde and P.G. Wodehouse?
No fair going to the cinema where the actor Stephen Fry played both Wilde and Jeeves.

Michael Dirda: Is this a trick question? Wodehouse didn't start writing in earnest, so to speak, until after Wilde's downfall and death. They both possessed an extraordinary command of English, though Wilde tends to be brittle and witty and Wodehouse somewhat more imaginative. They both suffered a kind of "disgrace"--Wilde's trial, Wodehouse's broadcasts. But I can't think of any more serious connection.

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Washington, D.C.: Hi, Michael!; I recently finished reading and thoroughly enjoyed Susanna Clarke's /Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell/. Ms. Clarke is the first author I've enocountered in recent memory who really nails Austen-style speak, intentionally or not, blending humor with period syntax (sorry--I can't think of a better way to put it). Can you recommend any other reads, modern or otherwise, that evoke Jane so well? Thanks!;

Michael Dirda: Georgette Heyer. Try A Civil Contract or Regency Buck or Sprig Muslin.

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Alexandria, VA: Book design/books as aesthetic objects:

My folks both had a beatnik-y streak; to this day I associate hipster cool with those Grove Press and New Directions paperback editions that punctuated our bookshelves. Hardly sumptuous, they looked a little seedy/transgressive/dangerous.

Michael Dirda: As indeed they were.

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Toronto, Ontario: Hi Michael,
Just wanted to let those who lament the fact that Jeremy Irons' reading of Lolita isn't availble on CD - it will be in April!;

As to today's topic - while I would never not read a book because it had an ugly jacket, there is that extra thrill when the whole package is beautiful. More than the jacket, it's good paper quality and a beautiful font in a decent, readable size that make for an extra reading pleasure.
Do you know either Persephone Books or Hesperaus Books? Both publish forgotten classics beautifully, and in the case of Persephone, their books are the most beautiful I own. Silver-grey jackets with cream labels, but when you open them, the endpapers have beautiful reproductions of fabrics from the period in which the book was written or set. And a matching bookmark comes with each. Hesperus does classic novellas - again, gorgeous tiny books with French flaps and beautiful covers.

Michael Dirda: I've long meant to write about the Hesperaus line--mostly novellas and short classics of European literature, often with introductions by the likes of A.N. Wilson or Margaret Drabble. Oddly enough nearly all their translations seem to be by the same guy. But the books are very pretty. And so, for that matter, are the wonderful paperback of New York Review Books.

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Ashcroft, BC: Books as aesthetic objects, per last week's discussion: it's hard to get too excited about modern books, now that they have become utilitarian objects (for the most part), although some, like the Everyman hardbacks, are quite pleasing to hold and read. However, pride of place for me must be my edition of PICKWICK PAPERS, bound from the parts, which is beautiful in itself (the illustrations are crystal clear, not the muddy reproductions seen now), and there is the added pleasure of wondering who read the pages 160 years ago.

I also have two Dickens plays from the 1840s, which were reprinted by the Barbarian Press in Mission, British Columbia in 1984, which are beautiful objects: handset on mouldmade paper, with engravings throughout printed from the wood on an 1850 super royal Albion. Looking at these books, it's difficult to pick up a modern volume and accept that we've really come such a long way (although I'm sure that few people who actually worked in it mourn the days of hot lead).

Michael Dirda: Many thanks. My recollection, though, is that Dickens novels--even when fox-free--are printed in relatively small type, which makes them hard reading for tired, aging eyes. The editions of the novels edited by Andrew Lang, by contract, are hefty, often in two volumes, with nice margins and big type. I have a half dozen of them. If my memory serves they are the Gadshill Edition.

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Lenexa, Kan.: Mr. Dirda: For me one of the great existential moments in life was when Johnny Carson returned from Jack Benny's funeral, shut himself away in a room, and cried nonstop for three hours. His wife at the time, Joanna, said it was one of only two times she'd ever seen him cry. Dauphins, golden lads and girls, and our great comedic flowers....

How angst-affected is your life-journey by the deaths of the Sinatras and Carsons? How does it compare with say the deaths of the Graham Greenes and Angela Carters? Thanks much.

Michael Dirda: Odd you should mention this. My wife Marian remarked that she was surprisingly upset by Carson's death. I too felt that end of an era, I am getting older faster than I like to think, feeling. And I hardly ever watched The Tonight Show. But Carson seemed perennial, and perennially youthful.
Still, the death of Angela Carter hit me hard, and I kept her picture pinned to my bulletin board at work for many years afterwards. We never met but we enjoyed a half dozen long, funny and surprisngly intimate phone conversations.

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Dayton, Ohio: Good afternoon, Michael. I'm working my way through Moorcock's Eternal Champion cycle, 20 years after reading them as an impressionable kid. What's your opinion on these works -- where do they fit in the fantasy canon? Thanks!

Michael Dirda: Check out the next posting. There's clearly something spooky going on.

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Woodley Park, D.C.: I just spent a couple of very enjoyable hours going through boxes I packed when I left home for college 15 years ago, rediscovering my science fiction and fantasy collection. Most everything went back into the box, but I kept out the Elric books (the first six) by Michael Moorcock. I'm curious what you and readers think of these -- it's been almost 20 years since I've read them, so I'm wondering whether I'll find as morally complex as I did as a nerdy 16-year-old!;

Michael Dirda: I've never read Moorcock's Elric books--I was a Jerry Cornelius fan, but somehow never got into the Eternal Champion. My old friend John Clute wrote a brillian introduction to The Cornelius Chornicles, in a one volume Avon paperback.
And time is way up for this week's session, folks. So until next Wednesday at 2, keep reading! Sorry if I didn't get to your comment or question.

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