| Dirda on Books
Hosted by Michael Dirda
Washington Post Book World Senior Editor
Thursday, May 8, 2003; 2 p.m. ET Washington Post Book World Senior Editor Michael Dirda took your questions and comments Thursday, May 8 at 2 p.m. 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 describing his travels to, say, a P.G. Wodehouse Convention. 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 -- just the sort of range you'd expect from a Pulitzer Prize winner in criticism (1993). 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. In the fall of 2000 Indiana University Press published "Readings: Essays and Literary Entertainments," a selection from Dirda's Book World columns. He hopes to bring out a companion volume soon. 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, Evelyn Waugh, T.S. Eliot, Nabokov, John Dickson Carr, Joseph Mitchell 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'd also like to spend six months in Florida writing a book that would become a runaway best seller, a critical success, and the hottest cinematic property of the year. A guy can daydream, right? 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.
Michael Dirda: Welcome to Dirda on Books! The bright shining hour of the week when you can escape the cares of the day and sail on Emily Dickinson's frigate through Keatsian faery lands forlorn etc. etc. Well, sort of. Anyway, I'll answer your bookish question as well as I can, and bounce some of them back to the assembled hordes of posters. Anyway, it's a sunny day here in Washington and I, for once, appear to be the cheeriest person at Book World. Anyway, on with the show!
Hartford, Conn.: Hello -- So many books are appearing on World War I. Some of them look formidable. Would you suggest a sensible way to start? Thanks. Michael Dirda: I presume you're interested in the history of the war? Either John Keegan or Michael Howard has a little book on WWI--part of one of those series of 175 page introductions to a particular author or period of history. That would be a good starting place. You might also look at Paul Fussell's classic The Great War and Modern Memory, which looks principally at the literary representations of the conflict. Barbara Tuchman's The Guns of August remains quite thrilling to read, though indisputably popular in approach. Hope this helps.
Detroit, Mich.: Michael -- Did you happen to catch the three-hour marathon with Harold Bloom on C-SPAN this weekend? As a Bloom watcher, I found it fascinating and alarming. His recent heart surgery has taken a powerful toll. One had to ask why, given his obvious physical frailty and distress, he put himself through this. One obvious answer is: He LOVES it. He's very much an actor, as most good teachers are, I would guess. He looked like a character out of his beloved Dickens -- disheveled hair, sagging features, hound dog eyes. Two things he said stood out for me: That Blood Meridian is the greatest novel by a living American. And his constant references to Eliot, a poet he says he dislikes. Perhaps a symptom of his own anxiety of influence. Michael Dirda: No, I don't have cable, so missed this. I did see Bloom about a month ago and he looked trimmer and more lively than before his surgery. As you probably know, I'm a big advocate of Blood Meridian too--though I thought Bloom's favorite contemporary novel, and another favorite of mine, was John Crowley's great "Little, Big." But yes, the man is ham, and loves being taken for Falstaff/Hamlet/Jaques.
Lenexa, Kan.: Mr. Dirda: Watched your friend Harold Bloom for three hours on Sunday (C-SPAN2). He mentioned "The Man Who Was Thursday" as you have many times. I'm currently reading it and since it is dedicated to Edmund Clerihew Bentley I've been inspired to concoct a Clerihew titled: "Dirda on Books Clerihew." I'm still working on the last two lines -- will share next week (if any interest). Thanks. Michael Dirda: Of course. Be kind. The poet Henry Taylor honored me with a clerihew in a recent collection of his entirely made up of poems in this form.
Springfield, Va.: Have you read "How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World and Everything in It?" Michael Dirda: No. Our reviewer--I think Adam Sisman, who wrote the very fine book Boswell's Presumptuous Task, didn't think it very good. I am, however, interested in the Scots Renaissance, and Hume is one of my favorite philosophers.
Deer Park, N.Y.: Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" is giving me pleasure (I have about 100 pages left) in part because it is forcing me to check encyclopedias and the Web to determine what is fact and what is fiction. In addition, it is has taught me about a mathematical term, the golden ratio or PHI which is present in art, nature, and humans -- a staggering concept. Historical struggles between the Catholic Church and secret societies make this story intriguing. What is your reaction to this novel (if you have had a chance to read it)? Michael Dirda: Our thriller reviewer, Patrick Anderson, loved it. There was a time I would have loved it too, having been a great admirer of somewhat similar books--e.g. Foucault's Pendulum, Lempriere's Dictionary, An Instance of the Fingerpost, The Club Dumas. I dubbed such books antiquarian romances. But somehow I've tired of the genre, probably because I've read too many. But such books are exciting, appealing to the conspiracy theorist in most of us. I looked at the first chapter of the Da Vinci Code and thought the assassination of the old curator rather cornball in its dialogue. But, as I say, I wasn't really in the mood.
Fairfax County, Va.: What was Hemingway's drink of choice? Michael Dirda: I actually used to know this, but can't remember. Can anyone?
Kensington, Md.: Did you read "The Lovely Bones" and if so, what did you think of it? After reading it, I felt that it wasn't as good as everyone raved it was. But obviously, many people disagree with me. Michael Dirda: Didn't read it. My view is a jaundiced middle-aged one: Nothing is as good as people say it is. But since I haven't read it, I could be all wrong. Do others have thoughts?
Fairfax, Va.: Good afternoon. In his review of the film "Up at the Villa," Roger Ebert said of W. Somerset Maugham, "He knew his characters; he had a deep knowledge of shallow people." I love that!
One reason I like reading authors like Maugham is that they evoke experiences, people, lifestyles, etc. that are disappearing or gone forever. I remember once reading a remark about the RMS Mauretania "smelling like all old ocean liners," the assumption being that everyone knew what that smell was. Maybe I am getting old -- it makes me sad that some sounds and smells are obsolete, except in books. Michael Dirda: Yes. Maugham possessed a masterly storytelling voice--that of the slightly world-weary traveler, in some far off place, sitting under a ceiling fan and either telling or listening to a story about colonials gone to seed, with a tragic finale. I'm particularly fond of his stories, especially those about spying in Ashenden.
Winston-Salem, N.C.: My daughter graduates from college this weekend. I still keep your 1999 column regarding advice to high school grads which coincided with her high school graduation, and will provide it to her again, as I did 4 years ago. Any additional thoughts on a college graduation? I know it may be somewhat heretical for this chat, but her Mom and I submitted the following quote for the student newspaper on her graduation: "Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a mighty bloodless substitute for life." - Robert Louis Stevenson, novelist, essayist, and poet (1850-1894). Thanks for the columns and the chats. Michael Dirda: Oh, I've given other commencement talks since then, and have formulated other bits of advice. Top of my current list: Take care of your teeth. Perhaps not what your daughter needs to hear just now, but rest assured it's good advice.
One of the ongoing themes of all my writing is this tension between books and life--a false conflict I know, but we still feel it. "I'm tired, I'm tired of books said Jack, I yearn for the meadows greeen." And "Close up those barren leaves."
Grey SoCal: Michael, I have decided that children's books by famous adult poets would be an interesting collecting area. This is based on reading The Animal Family and Ted Hughes' How the Whale Became. These books are always very cheering to me. Any favorites in the area? Michael Dirda: A good idea. You might extend it to famous adult authors who've written one or two children's books: E.G., Graham Greene, Donald Barthelme (The Fire Engine That Disappeared), Saint-Exupery, Ann Beattie. In fact, there was a short-lived series, some dozen years back, in which noted adult authors wrote children's book. Beattie's book was in it; I think the word spectacles was in the title.
Arlington, Va.: No cable? That is quite admirable. I trust that you are not wasting away on re-runs of mush but strengthening the mind by reading books. I must admit, one of my favorite shows is on cable. It's Book Notes with Brian Lamb at 8 p.m. on Sunday nights on C-Span 2. I have found some of the best titles on that show. Go to their Web site to look at past transcripts and titles. I think you will like it. Michael Dirda: I don't watch television--except for The Simpsons--and I almost never go to the movies. I keep buying tapes and DVDs and never watching them. Clearly, I'm an alien passing for human, and not entirely successfully. But TV bores me, and every modern movie I've ever seen was too long.
Vance Is, OK: So, did you make it to Stone Ridge this year? Any finds? I love the vintage paperback section; I always seem to find a Jack Vance I don't have, and they just don't make covers today like the old days. Michael Dirda: Nope. I was out of town, I think.
Lenexa, Kan.: Did Taylor use my opening lines? Either: Dirda, the brain,
The pride of Lorain, or: Dirda, the brain,
Our friend from Lorain,
(will use since its about Dirda on Books!) On WWI: I just listened to an abridgment of Keegan's The First World War. In it he praises "A Farewell to Arms" (said Hemingway handled the tragic retreat -- with the shooting of stragglers -- better than any other modern war fiction Keegan knew). So a chance to combine lit and history. Michael Dirda: No, he didn't use that line. Toni Morrison is the actual pride of Lorain -- though I was briefly known as the Brain. See my forthcoming AN OPEN BOOK (Norton, Oct) for more details on this and other matters.
Germantown, Md.: "One of the ongoing themes of all my writing is this tension between books and life--a false conflict I know, but we still feel it. "I'm tired, I'm tired of books said Jack, I yearn for the meadows greeen." Add "Close up those barren leaves." The adage is true... eventually in every man's life there comes a time he is forced to admit that his father was right. Michael Dirda: Hmmm. In what way was my father or yours right?
Re: Hemingway: Not sure, but in the Lillian Ross profile he seemed fond of champagne. Michael Dirda: Thanks
Mitchellville, Md.: I'm a lifelong, avid reader, and since 1985 also have fallen in love with recorded books. Now, I find that in addition to my Metro and bedtime reading, I'm also "reading" a recorded book as I drive around town. The challenge of keeping up with two or three subjects and plots is eased by the excellent job done by most recorded book performers, particularly fiction readers who pull you into the story with their dramatic representations of a book's characters. What is your experience with and opinion of recorded books, and how would you compare the audio literary experience to the visual literary experience? Michael Dirda: Somehow listening to a book, even in an unabridged reading, seems more enchanting than reading it--if you've got a good performer. I often point to Jeremy Irons audiotape of Lolita--better than the movie he was in. My only problem with audio books is that they are slow--it takes twice as long to get through a novel. But of course the journey not the arrival matters.
Alexandria, Va.: Hemingway was fond of Bellini Cocktails. His drink of choice? Perhaps this anecdote (possibly apocryphal) says it best... Friend (upon walking into a bar): "This is a nice bar." Hemingway: "They are all nice bars." Michael Dirda: Nice
Charlotte, N.C.: Perhaps you've already done a chat on this idea, but it occurred to me regarding the post about The Lovely Bones. The first line is "I was 14 the day I was raped and murdered," an admittedly powerful way to start a story. It made me wonder about the best opening lines in novels. I'm thinking "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," the wonderful line in Pride and Prejudice about the duty of young men of wealth, things like that. Has this been done?
Michael Dirda: Not by me, but 50 years ago Clifton Fadiman did a characteristically genial essay on this topic. Yes, the P and P opening is famous--and I could quote it, but will forbear. There are any number of good openings of course: "They threw me off the hay truck about noon." (The Postman Always Rings Twice). "Longtemps je me suis couche de bonne heure." "Stately, plump Buck Mulligan. . . " The first line of my forthcoming memoir, you ask? "Daydreaming is my only hobby."
Perhaps we should do this as a loose theme next week. How about it? Let's give it a whirl. Favorite first line and, what the heck, favorite last lines too: E.g., "He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother."
Charlotte, N.C.: "I don't watch television -- except for The Simpsons." Dear God, I love this chat. Literary criticism and Homer all in one place. I've got to tell you, it's very, very sexy.
Michael Dirda: Eat your heart out, but I've had dinner with Harry Shearer in New Orleans--and Yardley Smith is the daughter of the Post's former chief obit writer, J.Y. Smith.
Very sexy. Just how I see myself. How did you know?
Arlington, Va.: For anyone looking for a book recommendation for boys, I can add "Castaways of the Flying Dutchman" by Brian Jacques. My 8 year old, who is a tough critic, started reading it Tuesday, and at the end of every chapter has been running up to us announcing "This is the BEST book!" More telling, he even read through an opportunity to play a video game, and didn't miss it! ("the book is much better"). Very swashbuckly, apparently, and humans, rather than small mammals (another plus).
Michael Dirda: Yes, let me second that motion. My 12 year old read the book when it came out--and he named it his favorite book too (he was I guess 10 at the time). He's gone on to read most of Jacques Redwall books, but still likes Castaways best. The next volume is about to come out, or just has. Ah, to be able to say, with conviction, "This is the best book!" For me, that book was The Count of Monte Cristo, which of course really is the best book, even now.
Bethesda, Md.: Mr. Dirda: I have never seen you mention Henry Miller? Accident or design? I think his Rosy Crucifixion trilogy is in the same league as Proust's "Recherche." Any thoughts on Miller? Michael Dirda: I've read the two Tropics and remember when the RC came out in those fat paperbacks. I looked at them--probably seeking out sex scenes--but can't remember much about them. I thought the Tropic books were amazingly vivid--kind of Celine in English--and I've never forgotten the scene where a woman is trying to get Henry into bed and he's increasingly desperate to--let's use the formal word--micturate.
Lovely Bones: I am an addictive reader. I usually don't read of the New York Times best sellers. Only because I love sleeper books and I have so many. The Lovely Bones will be a classic one day. It is extraordinarily well written and thought provoking. Give it a try. Michael Dirda: Ok. Let's check back in 30 years.
Takoma Park, Md.: For first lines there's always "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife." And does anyone remember the time, now at least 25 years ago, when the New Yorker got tired of printing descriptions of long-running musicals in its listings, and replaced them with the beginning of Pride and Prejudice, spun out one sentence per show, week after week. Michael Dirda: See, I didn't have to quote it after all.
Don't remember this from the New Yorker.
I must say, I'm beginning to think it's time we declared a moratorium on any mention of Jane Austen during these chats. As much as I love her. But enough's enough. In return I promise never to mention locked room mysteries or P.G. Wodehouse. Satisfied, Dawn?
"He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother." : I just got chills. Yes, great last line.
Michael Dirda: thanks.
Richmond, Va.: I'm wondering, considering how often you are asked to recommend books for people, can you name a few that seem to work for most people, most of the time? Or are there no such books? Thanks Michael Dirda: No books work for everyone. But, other than such standbys as The Great Gatsby, you'll probably have pretty good luck with Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness; Hammett's The Maltese Falcon; Robertson Davies' Fifth Business; Evelyn Waugh's Decline and Fall; Cyril Connolly's The Unquiet Grave.
Washington, D.C.: I've heard from several people whose opinions I respect that the Lovely Bones was just awful. Michael Dirda: Well. De gustibus. . . . I must say that I don't like the first line. Too melodramatic in a forced way. But, n.b., I could be wrong.
Arlington, Va.: Hi Michael, While I hate to show my ignorance, what is a "clerihew?" Michael Dirda: It's a short poetic form, invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley, which encapsulates the subject's name and profession in a couple of couplets. For more detail, check in a good dictionary.
Silver Spring, Md.: When one is tired of Jane Austen, one is tired of life, to misquote some Brit-writer. But it is time for a moratorium, you're right. Michael Dirda: I'm not tired of Jane herself, just of talk about Jane.
Elkinberg: Hi Mr. Dirda There's a new translation of Gogol's "Taras Bulba" that got a big write up in the Atlantic. While all Russian fiction comes from underneath "The Overcoat," what do you think of "Taras Bulba" and where does it fit in Gogol's canon? More Steven Moore reviews, please... Michael Dirda: Ok, I'll get after Steve to do, uh, more. Did you see his terrific essay Nympholepsy in Gargoyle?
Taras Bulba is pretty romantic, melodramatic and almost operatic at times. I loved it--I even loved the movie with Yul Brynner and Tony Curtis. But then Cossack blood flows into my veins. Much attenuated blood, I might add, though my grandfather supposedly spent more money on his horst than his family.
Micturate: I had to look that up in the dictionary! I love when that happens. How very erudite of you. Michael Dirda: Erudite? More a good memory and an interest in words.
Takoma Park, Md.: Here are two nonfiction recommendations: Charles Rosen's Piano Notes, a series of fascinating observations on playing and recording at a professional level. Lighter and more anecdotal than his other books, but riveting for piano fans. No gossip, just interesting stuff. William Poundstone's book on paradoxes, called something like Labyrinths of Reason. Amazing illuminating intellectual stuff about reason and logic, by way of true paradoxes. Michael Dirda: thanks. Rosen is always good, but sometimes very difficult for the non-musician. I think the Poundstone had paradox in the title, but maybe not. I presume you know the work of Martin Gardner?
Arlington, Va.: Waiting for 30 years to read "The Lovely Bones?" Oh so cynical. What book came out in 1973 that you're just considering now? Michael Dirda: No. I meant that the poster should check back in 30 years to see if it had become a classic or not. People said The Bonfire of the Vanities was a great modern American novel. Does anyone read it now?
Re: World War I books: An excellent read from two or three years ago 'The Pity of War' by Niall Ferguson. Michael Dirda: Oh yes. But there was some controversy about it, wasn't there? I think it's strongly lefty ideological.
San Diego, Calif.: Do you think Iris Murdoch's library should be broken up for sale. From what I've read of hers, I think she would have liked her fans to have a chance at them. Michael Dirda: All libraries should be broken up for sale after the death of their owners--unless it's a really focused collection, in which case it should go to a university or college.
Charlotte, N.C.: No Jane Austen! Blasphemy! I just indulged myself by buying and reading her letters. Wonderful, even if I did have to keep my finger in the back and read the notes before I read each letter. And Cassandra's letter on Jane's death brought tears to my eyes. Too bad we don't do letters like that any more. Can you imagine a collection of emails? Wouldn't work. Michael Dirda: Thanks
Pentagon, Arlington, Va.: Are there any classic novels that were recognized as such immediately? I mean, did Jane Austen's novels or Bronte's Jane Eyre have to stand the test of time or where they recognizable immediately? Because I would be willing to put money down that not only will Lovely Bones not be a classic but that it will be forgotten in less then 5 years. On the other hand, I bet a lot of people would have said the opposite about some of Philip Roth's works for example, and while they are still good they don't rise to the level of Jane Eyre. Michael Dirda: Well, Dickens, for one. Ulysses. Proust. But, yes, lots of novels were recognized as something special right from the get-go. Of course, there are many that weren't. Stendhal said that he would be properly appreciated only 50 years after he was dead. And he was right.
Washington, D.C.: What are your thoughts on "literary snobs" -- i.e., those who avoid certain novels simply because they may read "mass-market paperback" on the back cover? Do you think that a novel that achieves best-seller status is cheap or common? Michael Dirda: People should read good books no matter what the genre. But in general the books that achieve best seller status are brisk, professional works of high craftsmanship, seldom any more. But such polish is not to be disdained.
Dublin by way of Washington, D.C.: After reading last week's chat, I was surprised no one mentioned William Trevor when suggesting living masters of the short story. In my opinion, Trevor has few equals. His Collected Stories is indispensable. Do you have any strong likes among contemporary Irish writers -- Trevor, Banville, O'Brien, McGahern (who was nicely featured in a recent Times article)? Michael Dirda: Good point. Trevor is at the top. But I think we were focusing on American writers--I can remember mentioning Carver, Barthelme, Cheever, then someone added Beattie.
Vance Is, OK: re: Germantown. Didn't your dad always grab the book out of your hands and tell you to get outside? Michael Dirda: Oh yes.
Too late, however: I never think of these questions until the chat is almost over. However, what characteristics must a book have to survive its time? Why, for example, does "Treasure Island" survive, but not other books? Michael Dirda: Ah, this is a big question, and time is almost up. I think the books that become canonical possess something archetypal or mythic in their character. IN the case of RLS, there's also the style: "Oxen and wain ropes couldn't get me back to that accursed island. . . . And the worst dreams that ever I have I start upright in bed with Captain Flint's voice ringing in my ears 'Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!' " Who could forget such sentences? And not a bad ending either.
And that brings us to the conclusion of another thrilling hour at washingtonpost.com. I'm sorry if I didn't get to your question this week. Please try again. Till next Thrusdsay at 2, keep reading!
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