While Alec, and others of a higher intellectual capacity than myself, go to New Yorker for their high-falutin' magazine needs, I have developed a deep love for the one-rung-lower Vanity Fair. I've always had some sort of affection for the 'zine, mostly built around its stunning photographs of Hollywood stars and the true crime writings of Dominic Dunne, but I've recently found myself reading it cover to cover and enjoying every bit of it. The most recent issue is especially good, which is why I'm now going to indulge in a little recap and reflection.
What's a Culture Snob to Do? by James Wolcott Possibly my favorite article of the issue was the first one I read, a look by Wolcott at how the digitization of things like books and music is changing how we define ourselves and how we telegraph that definition to others. His first example is the New York City subway as travelling library, where you can judge those reading Twilight and simultaneously show off your Strand purchased copy of The Sound and the Fury (or whatever it is that passe for intellectual these days). An on-again-off-again New Yorker myself, I 100% understand where he's coming from. I often would take stock of my fellow passengers and their reading material while on the 6 and, yes, I also developed insta-crushes on any male in my age bracket caught reading something I deemed crush-worthy (which, if you know me, is almost anything...reading is sexy, guys, keep doing it). Seeing someone read a book you just finished or completely love, even if you don't talk, is a way of making an insta-connection in a city (and, increasingly, a world) where it's easy and acceptable to cut yourself off. Likewise, brandishing a tome of your own is a way of inviting conversation, albeit a somewhat passive aggressive way. It's putting a little bit of yourself out there, and I like that.
Wolcott goes on to examine music and DVDs. Here, again, I am guilty. Despite owning everything as an MP3, I try and eventually grab all of my music in hard copy form as well, mostly because I like the way they look and I like a scan of my music collection says about me as a person. In this case, it's less about conveying that message to others, since I don't think anyone (save my mother or my sister searching for a pilfered CD) has ever seen my music in its non-computerized form, but I like it. Ditto with DVDs. As egotistical as it is, I like surrounding myself with reflections of myself. In moments of doubt I can look around me and say "Well, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, but I do know I'm the kind of person who has both "The Royal Tenenbaums" AND "The Care Bears Movie," and so I think I'm doing okay." It's totally weird and doesn't make any difference in the long run, but I like it.
Which is Wolcott's point. What would give me that feeling if I didn't have these collections of things as touch stones? In myself? In some higher, more cerebral way would I still be able to define myself? They are interesting questions, and, having had only a few hours to process them, I don't have the answers yet. But I will enjoy puzzling.
No, Prime Minister by Christopher Hitchens A two-page sketch of the "Nixonian" monster British Prime Minister Gordon Brown has become. I admit, my Anglophilia has not quite gone so far as to absorb their politics (I'm only now engaging with ours on any real level), but it was illuminating insofar as that I had no idea he was so nutty.
Politico's Washington Coup by Michael Wolff Politico became my gold-standard website for election coverage last fall. I mourn the loss of the GOP/Dem blogs now that the campaigns are done, but I still check in occasionally to see what's going on down the street, so I enjoyed the look at how Politico both came and continues to be. The ultra-specific/ultra-general dichotomy between Politico and large media outlets like The Washington Post is interesting and makes me regret even more the failure of TIME magazine's experiment in personalized news (sadly, the name of that publication has already slipped my memory).
I worry about the death of print anything, in part because of the issue presented by Wolcott, but also because I just genuinely prefer words on a page rather than words on a screen. It was reassuring, then, to find out the Poltico website gave birth to the publication as opposed to vice-versa, but I still worry. The sheer immediacy is what makes the website and the blogosphere exciting, and, because of that immediacy, information is parsed out in bite-sized morsels. If you're working a temp job, that's invaluable for entertainment and time-killing reasons, but in the real world? Does that help or hurt? Not sure. Furthermore, the accusation that Politico feeds into insider-only atmosphere of Washington is valid. The campaign was different because everything led back to two (or four) main players, but now the site has become are more obtuse, for better or worse.
The Last Days of Heath by Bruce Weber I'm still upset by the death of Heath Ledger. Nothing in this article is really new or ground breaking, save maybe for further insight into his last movie, but it does remind you that we lost someone of incredible promise.
Of course, there's a part of me that questions why we still need to be talking about it, or why any celebrity's death garners the attention it gets. I didn't know this man in any way and any further discussion seems to border on voyeurism. As a co-worker of mine just pointed out RE: The Michael Jackson memorial, he was a talented guy, but what about the seven soldiers killed in Afghanistan yesterday? Why don't we hear about them? Why do I know Heath Ledger's massage schedule but not their names?
And yet, I read the article. So I guess there's the answer right there.
It Came From Wasilla by Todd S. Purdum This is it! The one! The profile of everyone's favorite bat-shit crazy wingnut pitbull in lipstick we've all been hearin' tell about, you betcha! And...I don't know that we learn anything new, though there was this delightful tidbit:
More than once in my travels in Alaska, people brought up, without prompting,
the question of Palin's extravagant self-regard. Several told me, independently
of one another, that they had consulted the definition of "narcissistic
personality disorder' in the Diagnostic Manual of Mental
Disorders...and thought it fit her perfectly.When Trig was born, Palin
wrote an e-mail letter to friends and relatives, describing the belated news of
her pregnancy and detailing Trig's condition; she wrote the -mail not in her her
own name, but in God's, and signed it "Trig's Creator, Your Heavenly Father."
Also illuminating was the fact that she basically blew off any kind of interview or debate prep they attempted to give her and she basically doesn't seemed engaged with any issue whatsoever.
In case you haven't picked up on it, I am not a Palin fan. To speak truth, I loathe the woman. Loathe. The site of her brings with it a rising of bile and (occasionally) an audible sound of disgust mixed with strangled rage. Her nomination acceptance speech brought tears to my eyes that not only did I share citizenship with this woman, but I lived in country with people who thought her fantastic. If I ever wound up in the same room as her, I would have to leave. I see her as a real-live Dolores Umbridge only so much worse and it is my fervent prayer her stepping down from the governor's office means she she can crawl back into her polar-bear-pelt-lined cave of ignorance and self righteousness and never bother us again. But, alas, I fear it is not to be.
I often preach hearing out the other side and trying to see the best in people, but that woman drives me to a place no other being can.
...oh, but the article...yeah. It's good. Go read it.
//
And I haven't even gotten to my responses on Julia Child, the Tim Burton "Alice" photos or the 1930's film portfolio! Do you see why I love this magazine? It's fantastic.
There were also some musings on health care reform I was going to get into (I can sense your disappointment from here), but I feel I'm already pushing the limits of your patience and attention span. Best to quite while I'm only slightly behind. Besides, there's a whole three days more of temp job excitement. Can't waste all my insights now, can I?
Oh, and in case you were wondering...I did in fact finish I am Charlotte Simmons yesterday. It did nothing to change my overall feelings towards the book and only wound up irritating me more. It seemed Wolfe suffered from "I have to get this finished so I will wrap it up without any real detail" disease (much as I am doing now) and while I appreciated him giving her life some ambiguity, the whole thing was too nicely wrapped up to leave me satisfied.
So. That's that.
No comments:
Post a Comment