February, 2012

The estimable Henry Rosenbloom, publisher of Scribe, has posted a blog sung in a key of passionate blue (pardon the purple). He’s a great believer in transparency, and here he is exposing the entrails of the crisis that our book trade is undergoing — and everyone gets to share in the pain. Authors, book printers, [...]

Ah, politics. Before the knives, the talk. Famously, Orwell: ‘Political language … is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.’ Apart from fully sic, the language antidote is at Lexicon Valley, at Slate. Three episodes in and I’m an enthusiastic addict of the [...]

A couple of days ago, I picked up a bargain from a bin outside one of those slowly disappearing, or slowly mushrooming, second-hand paper-book stores. It was The Best of Petty, ‘a collection of satirical cartoons from The Australian by Bruce Petty’ published in 1968 … that’s um, oh em gee, 44 years ago. It [...]

  I’ve been seeing this go past for ages and finally the subliminal penny drops. What do the Quitline folk have against Noel Pearson?

Observations and not some haiku from the streets of Paris Classique, adjectif Sens 1, Qui fait autorité, qui est considéré comme un modèle. Anglais (auteur) classical author, (oeuvre) classic. 5.1 Steak-frites According to Anthony Bourdain: “It was onglet, and I was immediately struck by its ropy, not-too-tender but not-too-tough texture and its strong, almost kidneyish flavor.” [...]

Just a teaser for upcoming food posts. So many unnecessary calories, so little time. This is totally froggy boeuf bourguignon. (But not as Julia Child has recipe’d it; at least it never turned out like this.) It was ace.

Observations and not very high ku from the streets of Paris 4. Le metro There’s something always a bit futuristic about le metro in Paris. It’s no more efficient than, say, Singapore’s or Hong Kong’s or Tokyo’s, but it has a style, a je ne sais quoi. It reminds me of that 31 year old [...]

The room housing La Jaconde, Leonardo’s alter ego, and we crowds who flock to proximity with celebrity. I confess, she looks much less alluring than when I saw her a long time ago. Too well lit, too banally displayed, too hermetically sealed in her glass coffin.

Paris, 5 February 2012, -6C, en blanc.