(Here.)

By TIMOTHY EGAN
Published: December 6, 2008

The unlicensed pipe fitter known as Joe the Plumber is out with a book this month, just as the last seconds on his 15 minutes are slipping away. I have a question for Joe: Do you want me to fix your leaky toilet?

I didn’t think so. And I don’t want you writing books. Not when too many good novelists remain unpublished. Not when too many extraordinary histories remain unread. Not when too many riveting memoirs are kicked back at authors after 10 years of toil. Not when voices in Iran, North Korea or China struggle to get past a censor’s gate.

( the rest )

From here.


Recently, I had the pleasure of interviewing fellow author, Megan Crane, on the release of her fourth book, Names My Sisters Call Me. You can read the full transcript of the interview on Megan's website (www.megancrane.com).

It was during this interview that we touched on the chick-lit debate.

***

Liza Palmer: We were both accosted by a certain Macedonian, pole vaulting creature the other evening at Kristin Harmel's book launch. It was obvious that she looked down her nose (well, she would have to she was 9 feet tall) at our use of humor in novels. Apparently, the Macedonian was a short film maker - and when we politely asked what she made short films about she responded, "DRAMA." Confused, we pressed on, "Like, just conflict? Like car wrecks or something?" And she arrogantly recounted the obviously brilliant flick she had made with a woman rhythmically combing her hair. Seeing our confused faces (faces she most definitely thought were confused because our "little girly books" were just a manifestation of our dim natures) she continued, "Obviously combing the hair is a metaphor for masturbation."

Why is it, do you think, that there is this absolute pecking order in the art world, where someone with short films about hair combing has the clear invitation to put down female writers who have the audacity to tell stories? I mean, why is "chick lit" so universally reviled? And does Chick Lit even mean anything anymore?

( continued )

More schools to pull 'The Golden Compass'

Calgary's Catholic School Board is pulling "The Golden Compass" from school shelves -- a children's fantasy novel that criticizes strict religious dogma and encourages readers to keep an open mind.

Luckily, the book hasn't been outright banned yet - it's "under review" - but I still find this sort of thing... disturbing.

It's rather funny that I would stumble across this article tonight, given some things I've read/seen today (the Prince Caspian trailer, a review of the Golden Compass movie) and a conversation I had this very evening. Funny how things tend to come together like that.

Tonight I saw The Reindeer Monologues with Sarah. It was AMAZING, and I cried, of course, like I do every time I see it. All of the performances were perfect. I love theater so much. We then went back to her apartment, I met her awesome roommate, and we all talked until late (I just got home about 45 minutes ago). Yeah, I probably should have been back here doing work, but it was such a great evening that I didn't mind.

... EXCEPT for the snow. Okay, yes, it was lovely to see and feel against my face, and as I drove home tonight I appreciated the way the snow changed the density and space of the trees and how they relate to each other and the road. But my feet got totally soaked and freezing today, and it was cold, and the roads were SO BAD, and I was tired and took a long nap because it depressed me so much. I hate winter. I need to move to California.

Sleep sleep sleep.