Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, thew wise and the lovely.  Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,–but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look,
the laughter, the love,–
They are gone.  They are gone to feed the roses.
Elegant and curled
Is the blossom.  Fragrant is the blossom.  I know.  But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know.  But I do not approve.  And I am not resigned.

– Edna St. Vincent Millay

Staggered as we are by the grim irony of the Boston Marathon bombing on the 13th anniversary of Edward Gorey’s death, still we celebrate the lives that will keep that day in our memories for years to come. 

And in the spirit of Spring, we look forward to tomorrow’s opening of the Edward Gorey House for this season with a more cheerful anniversary: the 5oth of The Vinegar Works, that memorable trilogy comprising “The Gashlycrumb Tinies,” “The West Wing,” and “The Insect God.”  Check it out at 8 Strawberry Lane, Yarmouth Port, Massachusetts, or at http://www.edwardgoreyhouse.org/

A tip of my tulle-trimmed bowler to Google for their Amphigoreyesque 2/22 Google Doodle honoring the brilliantly crepuscular artist and genius Edward Gorey!

And another hat-tip to actress/author Renee Gibbons and actress/director Margot Breier for their dramatic readings at Edward’s posthumous 88th birthday party at San Francisco’s Cartoon Art Museum on Friday night.  Many thanks to all who attended, and especially Heather Plunkett and her squadron of interns who made it happen!  Also to photographer Michael Starkman, who kindly pitched in to help us record this festive event.

*Boo du Jour is an occasional award for outstanding failure to cope with reality.

Animals Can’t Talk by Kathleen O’Brien Wilhelm

          

Signs that read “Deer Crossing” and the like are going to continue to pop up throughout our country including Avon Lake, but who are these signs for? Deer cannot read, do not obey the law and probably will cross where they wish. Although adorable companions, it is hard to remember the last time that the news reported an animal talking, thinking or providing significant input for the benefit of society. Yet, these signs cost taxpayers like so much of government.

(But wait!  There’s more! http://avon-oh.patch.com/blog_posts/animals-cant-talk)

Carol writes from Charlottesville, VA:   “Thanks to my old college friend Nancy Greenspan in Bethesda, where she & I & the final proof copy of “EG On Stage” linked up, this pioneering multimedia print book is out at last!
In the experimental tradition of our theater collaborations on Cape Cod, this unique mini-biography of Edward’s thespian side contains live links to music & video clips as well as websites related to his diverse dramatic enterprises — plus, of course, snapshots & drawings & reminiscences & snippets from scripts & reviews. Enjoy!”
Available at http://amzn.to/VgrDzn

And if you’re in the San Francisco Bay area, come to the Bottle Cap’s Wine & Book Tasting on Sunday afternoon, Dec. 9 (4-6 PM), discover some new vintages, and choose from half a dozen books by local authors to fill all your gift-giving needs!   http://www.bottlecapsf.com/

Determined to exist in time for the holidays, the print version of Edward Gorey On Stage: Playwright, Director, Designer, Performer: a Multimedia Memoir continues to inch toward publication.  Over the past week this valiant little volume has fought off attacks of spontaneous indentation, skewed colors, and other slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that tree-flesh is heir to.  Each new setback only renews its fervor to leap into shiny new covers, thence into wrapping paper and ribbon, thence onto a hidden shelf, down a stocking, or under a tree, to emerge at last into the delighted hands of a Gorey fan.

You can help make this unique mini-biography’s dream come true!  Official publication date is November 29, and like the Fiscal Cliff it’s still . . . well, a cliffhanger.  Stay tuned!  And join us to celebrate Victory (fingers Xd) on Sunday afternoon, Dec. 9, 4-6 PM at the Bottle Cap, opposite North Beach’s Washington Square Park, where four fascinating books will be matched with four delicious wines at a fabulous Wine and Book Tasting.

When we left Jonah Lehrer (see my post of  July 31), his career was in flames, torched by the revelation that he’d made up quotations from Bob Dylan, as well as “repurposed” large chunks of writing previously published elsewhere, for his book Imagine.

I recently started reading Imagine, and was so put off by its glib storytelling, with facts inserted mainly for illustration, and grand generalizations often drawn from a single anecdote, that I quit after a few chapters.  That led me to wonder how such a shallow excuse for a book ever got into print.  My neighbor and fellow editor Susan Weisberg discovered that New York magazine wondered the same thing, and published an illuminating answer by Boris Kachka just a few days ago: “Proust Wasn’t a Neuroscientist. Neither was Jonah Lehrer.”

It’s long, but if you’re at all involved with journalism, literature, and/or science, it’s well worth reading!  Kachka presents quite a few lessons to be drawn from the Icarus tale of Jonah Lehrer, including one that’s particularly relevant to authors and publishers:

The tradition of the author’s lecture tour goes back at least as far as Charles Dickens. But its latest incarnation began with [Malcolm] Gladwell in 2000. The Tipping Point, his breakthrough best seller, didn’t sell itself. His publisher, Little, Brown, promoted the book by testing out its theory—that small ideas become blockbusters through social networks. Gladwell was sent across the country not just to promote his book but to lecture to booksellers about the secrets of viral-marketing. Soon The New Yorker was dispatching him to speak before advertisers, charming them and implicitly promoting the magazine’s brand along with his own. Increasingly, he became a commodity in his own right, not just touring a book (which authors do for free) but giving “expert” presentations to professional groups who pay very well—usually five figures per talk.

Sometimes we writers and publishers need to remind ourselves that this century is a different ball game from the one before, and we can profit from applying some of our creative curiosity to the new opportunities it offers.  And sometimes we need to remind ourselves why we chose this vocation, and refuse to be bullied by the lure of fortune and fame into compromising the search for knowledge that’s at the core of our quest.