Services

Listening


I hope you are listening to podcasts by now. Whether you are using a slick Apple iPod touch or a Zune or you are content, as I am, with my small and much lower-priced Apple iPod shuffle, you need to start listening.

My Shuffle does not allow me to watch videos or surf the Net, but that's good because all I ever put on it are podcasts and books. I don't need more distractions.

You could even get a SanDisk Sansa m230 512 MB MP3 Player (Blue) for less than $20 and do the same thing.

Where to get podcasts? There are tons free via iTunes which is fine for iPod users, but you can download lots of them directly from the source such as npr.org or kcrw.org - and audible.com is great (but not free) for books.

You don't even need to buy an mp3 player (other than the one you no doubt have on the computer you are using right) now to listen, but I think it's so much better to get a portable player so you can roam, walk, work in the garden, wander around the house, ride the train or bus...

mp3 players

John Updike 1932-2009

March 18, 1932 – January 27, 2009


John Updike died today. He was 76.

I could write a lot about him. I have read almost all of his books. I bought and read every one of his novels. He was one of only a few writers that I would buy the new novel at its release without looking at a review and just read it.

My wife was also an Updike reader, so his novels were frequently a birthday gift for one of us.

I never got to teach any of his novels. I did regularly teach some of his poems and one of his early short stories, "A&P," that was in an anthology I used. It was a good adolescent tale of a boy who works in a supermarket who creates a moral dilemma for himself when the store's owner confronts three bikini-clad teenage girls who appear at his checkout station.

It's a simple story about a kid who takes a stand for something he believes is right and receives no praise or recognition for it.

My favorite works by him are his short stories.

I also like Updike's poetry which never received much attention. His most anthologized poem is probably "Ex-Basketball Player" but it's not really the best representation of his poetry or what he has written in the half century since it was published.

On my Poets Online blog we used an Updike poem back in January 2006 as a writing prompt.

It was the poem "Dog's Death" from his Collected Poems 1953-1993.

I mentioned on the site that it's not sentimental, or comforting, or funny and wise. It's about death, loss, showing a kind of dignity in facing death, the death of the young, and that desire (thankfully) many of us seem to have (as in "A&P") to do the "right thing." I also see it as a poem about the inability of even love to triumph over death.

Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried

To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.

Updike wrote a second poem about this topic called "Another Dog’s Death" which you can read at this NPR site which is part of a series called "The End of Life: Exploring Death in America."

I met him twice at readings. The first time, I was a new college grad and carried the original paperback edition of his story collection Pigeon Feathers to get signed. He asked me how I had come to own it, since I was too young to have bought it new.

I told him that I bought it in a used book store and showed him a note that was inside the book when I bought it. The note was scribbled on back of an airport receipt for the book's purchase. "call. pick up boxes," it said. There was also a paycheck stub. "There's the start of a story," Updike said. I replied that I actually had written a story from that idea. He scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and gave it to me. "I'd like to see it," he said.

I mailed him the story and a week later received a postcard reply typed on a manual typewriter. It's as close to having something in The New Yorker as I have ever come.

It saddens me that John Updike never received the Nobel Prize in Literature during his lifetime. What a lifetime body of work - more than twenty-five novels, more than a dozen short story collections, poetry, non-fiction including art criticism, literary criticism, children's books, and hundreds of stories, reviews, and poems in The New Yorker where he first was accepted in 1954.






"Tell your mother, if she asks, that maybe we'll meet some other time. Under the pear trees, in Paradise."
John Updike, Rabbit at Rest




Books by John Updike

1968 Plus 40 Equals Obama

I heard a commentator on CBS' Sunday Morning program yesterday mention that Robert Kennedy had predicted that America could have an African-American president in 2008.

Really?

I did some Net research.

In 1968, that year we seem to always look back at as a point where things went wrong, he gave a talk on the Voice of America radio network that beamed out to sixty countries.

"There's no question about it," the attorney general said. "In the next 40 years a Negro can achieve the same position that my brother has." ... Kennedy said that prejudice exists and probably will continue to ... "But we have tried to make progress and we are making progress. We are not going to accept the status quo."

Robert F. Kennedy, Washington Post, May 27, 1968

Of course, when Barack Obama was elected in 2008, 40 years after the comment, it was seen as an incredibly accurate prediction.

According to snopes.com, the Post version "fudges a few details." Specifically, that RFK actually said less specifically "in the next thirty or forty years" and the speech was given in May 1961, not 1968.

Of course, the larger point is that Kennedy and others saw the possibility for positive change during that turbulent decade, and they were correct.

Modern Financial Insanity

Is there any upside to the financial chaos of the stock markets? Maybe.

I was listening last month to an NPR interview with author Michael Lewis. Lewis wrote his 1989 best-seller Liar's Poker which did not paint a very positive portrait of Wall Streeers. Of course, in that book you were expected to gasp that an investment bank CEO might make $3 million a year. Now, we might see that as not so bad. Liar's poker is (or was) a game played in the down time by workers on Wall Street. The game objective? Reward trickery and deceit.

Lewis describes his four years on Wall Street from hiring to time as a successful bond trader.Things have changed. While Lewis illustrated how changing securities markets made bonds the best game on the Street, I can say from personal experience that bonds is not the safe place any more.

He released Panic: The Story of Modern Financial Insanity late in 2008 and I bought it for my finance-major son, Drew, for Christmas. Over the break, I read it too.

It is a collection of essays and articles written during the past two decades that opens with the crash of October 1987. I recall being hit in that crash that year that Drew was born. It took a hit on his newly created college fund.

If you had to pick a moment when those principles first appeared a bit shaky, you could do worse than the 1987 stock market crash...

Black Monday was the first of a breed: a crash that suggested disastrous economic and social consequences but in the end had no serious effects at all. The bursting of the Internet bubble, the Asian currency crisis, the Russian government bond default that triggered the failure of the hedge fund Long-Term Capital Management—all of these extreme events have been compressed into a fantastically short space of financial history. And all seemed, in the heat of the moment, to have the power to change the world as we know it. None of them, it turned out, was that big a deal for the U.S. economy or for ordinary citizens.

But the current crash from 2008 that will certainly carry through 2009 is a different crash.

The size of the problem is massive. Not only did trillions — trillions — of dollars get lent to people who won't be able to repay them, but Wall Street at the same time created a market in side bets about whether these people would be able to repay their loans. And that market in side bets is tens of trillions of dollars.

Lewis contends that all that money went to "building a lot of houses that we can't afford" and other "unproductive assets."

"The biggest sum of money ever made by a single person in the history of Wall Street was made last year by a hedge fund manager named John Paulson, who made almost $4 billion for himself because he took the other side of the bets. … Big money has been made, but by very few."

For my son, who was thinking about going into investment banking, the word is that the people taking big risks and earning big returns in the financial markets won't be working at places called banks.

They may be working at hedge funds or in private equity, but that will be a much smaller operation and, in general, the appetite for risk will be dramatically reduced. I don't think, going forward, you will see people working at a place called Goldman Sachs taking home $70 million or $80 million at the end of each year, which they have done in the past.

One of the madnesses of the last 25 years … has been the rewards we've bestowed on financiers. The people who have actually been allocating the capital on Wall Street have done a rather bad job of it.

Last fall, visiting his alma mater, Princeton University, Lewis was interested to find out "what the kids who were going to be investment bankers were now going to do with their lives."

Turns out he was "frustrated with how unimaginative young people had become in choosing their path in life." He suggested that they spend a week with a hedge fund manager "just to see how miserable" they'd be after 20 years.

His suggestion to graduates like my son "who thought they were going to be financiers are having to rethink the premise, and that's a very good thing."

Maybe I need to go back to the lesson of the Oakland A's that were the focus of Lewis's Moneyball. They had the problem of trying to win in the Major Leagues with a budget that was smaller than almost every other team.

Instead of following the conventional wisdom - big name hitters and young pitchers with hot arms - they went with lots of carefully interpreted statistical data to use hitters with high on-base percentage and pitchers who get lots of ground outs.

Rethink the markets.

Happy 200th Birthday Mr. Poe

Next week is Edgar Allan Poe's 200th birthday.

Poe (January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American poet, short-story writer, editor and literary critic, and is considered part of the American Romantic Movement.

He's best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre. He was one of the earliest American practitioners of the short story and is considered the inventor of the detective-fiction genre. Some critics credit him with helping to get the then newly-emerging genre of science fiction going.

He was also the first well-known American writer to try to earn a living purely through writing. (Something that resulted in a financially difficult life and career.)

I think one indication of his fame is how many people know him and some of his stories even though hey have never actually read them. Poe's stories are in every anthology of American literature used in schools. Sure, they have literary merit, but they are also public domain and don't cost publishers. As a teacher, students always liked the ideas behind his stories, but it was very rare to find a student who actually liked the stories. They are tough to read.

The English poet laureate of that age, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, dubbed Poe “the literary glory of America.” Sherlock Holmes' buddy, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, called him “the supreme original short story writer of all time.”

I read him like a good high school student is supposed to and then again as a good English major, and I reacted much like my own students did years later.

In one college course I was assigned to read Poe's only completed novel, The Narrative of A. Gordon Pym. That was a strange literary voyage over troubled seas.


The U.S. Postal Service commemorates the 200th anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allan Poe this month with a stamp.

The stamp portrait of Edgar Allan Poe is by award-winning artist Michael J. Deas, whose research over the years has made him well acquainted with Poe’s appearance. In 1989, Deas published The Portraits and Daguerreotypes of Edgar Allan Poe, a comprehensive collection of images featuring authentic likenesses as well as derivative portraits. The scheduled issue date is January 16 in Richmond, VA.

Though there are many, mostly terrible, movies of Poe's stories, I have always thought that Poe's life would make a far better film.

I read years ago that Sylvester Stallone has always wanted to direct a film bio called Poe.

Supposedly, he once saw himself playing Poe, but has decided over the years that couldn't work. Somewhere I read that Robert Downey Jr. was attached to it. Based on his Chaplin performance, he could do it.

Stallone did write all of the installments in both the Rocky and Rambo film series and directed installments III and IV of the Rocky films, as well as John Travolta's follow-up to Saturday Night Fever, Staying Alive.

Take as just one sample series of scenes his mysterious death. On October 3, 1849, Poe was found on the streets of Baltimore delirious, "in great distress, and... in need of immediate assistance", according to the man who found him.

He was taken to the Washington College Hospital, where he died on Sunday, October 7. Poe was never coherent long enough to explain what had happened to him.

He was wearing clothes that were not his own. He repeatedly called out the name "Reynolds" on the night before his death. (Zoom in here for "Rosebud" style closeup.)

The story is told that his final words were "Lord help my poor soul." All medical records, including his death certificate, have been lost.

At that time, newspapers reported Poe's death as "congestion of the brain" or "cerebral inflammation", common euphemisms for deaths from disreputable causes such as alcoholism, but we really don't know the cause.

There's another theory that he was a victim of "cooping." This was an election ballot-box-stuffing scam in which victims were shanghaied, drugged, and used as a pawn to vote for a political party at multiple locations.

Some biographers have credible evidence that Poe's death resulted from rabies, or delirium tremens, heart disease, epilepsy, syphilis, meningeal inflammation, cholera or rabies. He would make an excellent episode of House.

Like my own literary hero of the period, Herman Melville, Poe's death and funeral did not attract much attention. A simple ceremony was held October 8 with a few people attending. He had a simple mahogany coffin without nameplate, cloth lining, or a cushion for his head, and a cousin supplied the hearse. The funeral was presided over by the Reverend W. T. D. Clemm, cousin of Poe's wife, Virginia. (Ah Virginia... that will be an interesting part of the film.) The entire ceremony lasted only three minutes in the cold, damp weather. It was an unmarked grave.

He was reburied on in 1875, at a new location close to the front of the church. A celebration was held a month later at the dedication of the new tomb and several leading poets were invited to the ceremony. Walt Whitman was the only one to attend. Good for you, Walt.

The remains of Virginia Poe were moved from New York to Baltimore and added to those of Poe and Maria Clemm in 1885.

VISITING POE PLACES

I have been to the cemetery and paid my respects. I tried to visit the Poe House in Baltimore but it has always been closed. My sons vividly recall a very hot summer day when I forced them to walk there, and the neighborhood folks who thought I was asking about where the Poorhouse (as in "Po house") was located. No fans of his writing in that neighborhood that we could find.

No childhood home of Poe is still standing. The oldest standing home in Richmond, the Old Stone House, is in use as the Edgar Allan Poe Museum, though Poe never lived there. They have things that Edgar probably used during his time with the Allan family and some rare first printings of Poe works.

I have also visited the dorm room Poe is believed to have used while studying at the University of Virginia in 1826. Had I attended UVA, I would no doubt have joined the Raven Society.

I have not visited are one he rented in Philadelphia, The Spring Garden home, where he lived in 1843–1844. It is preserved by the National Park Service as the Edgar Allan Poe National Historic Site.

And I never made it to Poe's final home, the Edgar Allan Poe Cottage in the Bronx, New York. I don't associate Poe with New York but there's also a building in the Upper West Side, where Poe temporarily lived when he first moved to New York. (A plaque suggests that Poe wrote "The Raven" there.)

In Boston, a plaque hangs near where the building once stood where Poe was born at 62 Carver Street (now Charles Street).

I have always meant to visit the bar in which legend says Poe was last seen drinking before his death. It still stands in Fells Point in Baltimore, Maryland. Now known as The Horse You Came In On, it's a pub on Thames Street, the last street before the docks. Local lore insists that a ghost they call "Edgar" haunts the rooms above it. No evidence of any ghost or Poe aficionados on the bar's MySpace page.

I think before my son graduates from the University of Maryland this May, I need to get to that bar and have a cognac for Edgar.

Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore

The Hardy Boys

The Secret of the Old Mill (Hardy Boys, Book 3) The Secret of the Old Mill by Franklin W. Dixon

You have to get past the idea that you CAN give a Hardy Boys book you really liked when you were 10 years old 4 stars AND you can give a book of poetry you really liked 40 years later the same rating.

So, I feel no guilt about having read every Hardy Boys I could get my hands on when I was a kid. My mom bought them for me as rewards, and when I was home sick from school for a few days. Thanks Mom, you helped make me a reader!

I particularly remember this one with its counterfeit money, national security, an old mill AND a character named Ken.

I got to know the town of Bayport, Frank and Joe, their friend Chet, their girlfriends Callie (Frank) and Iola very well.

Joe dated Iola with that odd and exotic name - but she was the sister of Chet, so even with her green eyes, she came from ordinary stock. Who did you prefer - Frank or Joe; Iola or Callie (Ginger or Maryann; Betty of Veronica).

I also recall in my kindergarten days watching a few Hardy Boys TV shows (starring Tim Considine and Tommy Kirk) on the Mickey Mouse Club.

If you like the Hardy Boys, check the extensive Hardy Boys info on Wikipedia created by fans.

View my GoodReads reviews.

Best Of

Here are some of NPR's best of lists for 2008.

I gotta say, I am out of touch on music if these are the best things from last year, because I've heard almost nothing from the list.

BEST CDs
and
BEST MUSIC (which I would have thought was the same thing)

I do better with the
BEST BOOKS
list, but I read books far too slowly to ever catch up with my t0-be-read list.