Robert Marshall, author of A Separate Reality—described as “...a portrait of an artist as a young man in the seventies. It’s a novel about Jews in the sun-belt diaspora, sprinklers on dead grass, and the smell of creosote in the desert at night. It’s a story of rattle snakes and the death rattle of the sixties. It’s about Watergate and the history of the left from the Rosenbergs to McGovern."—conjures up a 100-word description of a dream for the 92Y Blog. (“100 Words” background here.)
Dream I’m at a museum with my father. They’ve bought some new paintings, very tiny Rembrandts. Because they’re so small perhaps he can see them. So I wheel him out into the museum (also a parking lot), but we can’t find the Rembrandts, or the little Van Goghs which may also be there. We give up, head in, but must be careful—we don’t want to get in the lane where the planes are taking off. We do, accidentally, for a moment, but then manage to reenter the building (airport?). Later my brother is also going blind. Spina Bofida, he says.
He joins Jami Attenberg and Galt Niederhoffer for the New Jewish Fiction talk at Makor on March 7.
Whether it’s brunch (never prepared “over-easy") or killing 45 minutes on the F train, New Yorkers love their crossword puzzles. In the latest issue of Time Out New York, Paul Katz takes David J. Kahn—a frequent contributor to The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, and The New York Sun crossword puzzles—to the gridiron for explanations behind his black & white (and sometimes shades of gray) world. An excerpt:
A typical grid can take Kahn 10 to 15 hours to create, and he finds inspiration in everything from books and billboards to talking heads. When Tom Brokaw punned that “Manhattanites define a hard drive as ‘a difficult commute,’ “Kahn went to work on “Technophobe’s Delight,” which eventually became his—and then President Bill Clinton’s—favorite puzzle. Another fan knit Kahn a wall hanging based on one of his more challenging grids. But, Kahn admits, the feedback isn’t always favorable. “I get approached at parties sometimes. Someone will really get into it and start debating the definitions I’ve used.” That aggravation is precisely why this old-fashioned wordsmith needn’t worry about job security in an increasingly high-tech world. “Even if they’re frustrating, crosswords entertain,” says Kahn. “As long as they do that, they’ll never go out of style.”
Read the whole article and then take Kahn’s master class in crossword puzzles Thursday night at the Y.
Do you have any narcotics in your house?
Of course, I’m Tommy Chong!
In February 2003, a fully armed SWAT team raided the home of 65 year-old comedian Tommy Chong. Needless to say, they were not looking for copies of That 70s Show. As one half of film’s legendary Cheech & Chong, he regularly poked fun at law enforcement practices but the laughter turned to harsh choking when he was sentenced to 9 months in federal prison for conspiracy to manufacture and distribute drug paraphernalia through Chong Glass, a family business specializing in handmade glass water pipes, or “bongs.” On March 8 at Makor, director Josh Gilbert will be on hand for a Q&A after the screening of his documentary, a/k/a Tommy Chong, to discuss the firsthand-smoke experience.
Celebrated poet and publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti adorns the cover of the March/April 2007 issue of Poets & Writers magazine. Interviewed by Julia Older, he discusses the politics of Pound, the value of workshops, and who really makes up mainstream culture. An excerpt:
Ferlinghetti is the author of more than thirty books. One of his first, the international best-seller A Coney Island of the Mind, has been translated into nine languages. His other poetry collections include These Are My Rivers: New and Selected Poems, 1955–1993 (1993), A Far Rockaway of the Heart (1997), How to Paint Sunlight (2001), and the book-length poem Americus, Book I (2004), all released by New Directions. He has also published novels, experimental plays, collections of drawings, and translations.
Last year I went to hear Ferlinghetti read at an event sponsored by the New England Poetry Club in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The funky old Harvard auditorium was crammed with gray-haired flower children, Vietnam vets, and high school and college students. By the time club president Diana Der-Hovanessian introduced him, scores of people had been turned away at the door. When the tall, white-bearded poet, wearing a bright blue shirt, leaned over the podium, fans exploded into applause, shouted favorite poetry titles, and cheered as he began to read.
Mary Gannon’s editor’s note offers more insight. Ferlinghetti comes to the 92nd Street Y on April 16, probably making the same rock star entrance.
We’re adapting an idea conceived by former New York Press editor-in-chief Jeff Koyen that involves getting writers to submit “100 Words” on any topic or thought of their choice. Read more about his project at 100Words.com where people are tasked to write 100 words a day, every day, for a month. It’s a worthy challenge, even for the most seasoned writer/blogger. Since there is no shortage of great writers coming through the doors of the 92nd Street Y (see: Unterberg Poetry Center) and Makor on a regular basis, some early in their career and others of considerable achievement, we thought it would be a good idea to ask those who are interested to submit their own “100 Words On...” contribution to the 92Y Blog. (Once is enough for our purposes.) First up is Jami Attenberg, author of Instant Love who is taking part in the New Jewish Fiction talk at Makor on March 7.
On book tour, there were eccentric old men at every reading. It had something to do with the word “love” being in the title of my book. They all wanted to know what I knew about love. (The answer, of course, is: not much.) You might think they were dirty old men, but I liked to think of them as “dirty-curious.” And I became curious about them. Except for the man in Portland, who sat in the front row wearing short-shorts with his legs spread wide open. His was a kind of love I wanted to know nothing about.
Referring to Schumer, she said that they had been working hard “going back to the first Clinton administration.” Scattered applause, murmurs and finally, a big, approving hand. “Thank you!” said Clinton, holding her arms out like a comedian who’s just caught a long-overdue break.
Besides that, Clinton’s short speech included some standards about her colleague’s knack for courting public attention. “What can I say about him that he hasn’t already said?” and “On the seventh day the Lord rested and Chuck had a press conference.”
As she went over possible alternatives to the title of his book, Schumer cackled behind her, removing and replacing his glasses. The biggest laugh came for her last suggestion: “The Republican Political Machine: A Shanda.”
Snapshot: Senators Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chuck Schumer
Photo Credit: Shahpar Nili for 92nd Street Y
They were here last night to discuss the ideas in Senator Schumer’s new book, Positively American: Winning Back the Middle-Class Majority One Family at a Time. Clinton spoke first about the importance of Schumer’s book and his ideas for creating a clear vision for the Democratic Party.
“If you can stand the hailstorm of flash bulbs and the fake sentimentality and the platitudes and the mincing elocution of the glamour queens (you ought to hear them with four martinis down the hatch) and still feel next morning that the picture business is worth the attention of one single intelligent, artistic mind, then in the picture industry you certainly belong.” —Raymond Chandler, “Oscar Night in Hollywood,” in the March 1948 Atlantic.
On that note, don’t forget to check out Makor’s Oscar Night Party. Then go to a dance performance or lecture to cure your Hollywood hangover like a real New Yorker.
The first pro baseball league is coming to Israel this summer and the organizers—including founder Larry Baras, Commissioner Daniel Kurtzer, director of player development Dan Duquette, three former major leaguers who will be managers: Ken Holtzman, Art Shamsky, and Ron Blomberg, along with New York area players signed to play— are holding a press conference at the Makor/Steinhardt Center on Monday, February 26. The Y has no affiliation with the league, but we’re certainly interested. Check out the Israel Baseball League official website and read a biblical play-by-play of baseball history. What will be different in the land of milk and honey when peanuts and Cracker Jacks are added to the mix? (Break out the Bamba.) Here’s their interesting twist on the rules:
The rules of the IBL are a little different too, all aimed at enhancing fan experiences. Our games are seven innings in duration, with several rules within meant to speed up the tempo. We use a modified DH rule, where a DH can be used only twice per game for one designated player, adding to the strategic use of the DH. And in the most exciting innovation of all, if games are tied after seven innings, they are decided by a Home Run Derby!
Jennifer Koh with Reiko Uchida. Photo: Julieta Cervantes
Last Wednesday’s snowstorm didn’t stop classical music lovers from enjoying our concert with violinist Jennifer Koh and pianist Reiko Uchida. Composer Jennifer Higdon wrote a piece especially for the evening and The New York Times‘ Allan Kozinn had this to say about it:
The most striking work on their program at the 92nd Street Y on Wednesday evening was Jennifer Higdon’s “String Poetic” (2006), a piece commissioned for Ms. Koh by a consortium that included the Y. The movements of Ms. Higdon’s score carry impressionistic titles — “Climb Jagged” and “Blue Hills of Mist,” for example — and her tonal but rugged style is suited to the imagery they suggest.
In both “Climb Jagged” and its mirror image, “Jagged Climb” (they are the first and last of the five movements), the violin line is athletic and often brash, with scampering figures and chordal shards to paint the picture (and, secondarily, test the technique).
The equally picturesque piano writing included sections in which Ms. Uchida was asked to create a plucked sound by reaching inside the piano to damp the strings while playing her line, with her other hand, on the keyboard. The more meditative and ethereal “Blue Hills of Mist” is surrounded by a dark, lyrical Nocturne and a perpetual motion movement, “Maze Mechanical.”
Remember the old schoolyard challenge of folding a piece of paper in half more than 8 times? Like most things in life, the problem can be debated with math. (Numbers are your friend.) Susan Orlean of The New Yorker ripped into the world of origami with Robert J. Lang, a Caltech graduate who took his Ph.D in Applied Physics and folded it into a professional touring career as the world’s best origamist. In a fascinating profile piece, she recalls this scene:
“My God, look,” she said, pointing to Lang. “He’s in a suit!”
Lang stopped folding and looked up at her.
“It’s just . . . to see an artist all clean and dressed, and in a suit,” she sputtered.
Lang smiled and said, “Well, my kimono was at the cleaners.” He resumed folding.
“You’re good at the origami,” the woman said. “Have you done other jobs?”
Lang said, “Yes, in fact, I have. For years, I was a physicist.”
The woman grabbed her husband’s arm again and gasped, “Oh, my God!” While she was recovering, two men ambled up. “Do people, like, pay you?” one of them asked. Before Lang could answer, the other guy, brandishing a baby lamb chop, asked if he knew how to make the Statue of Liberty.
“Yes, I do,” Lang said. “I’m not going to make it right now, but I do know how to do it.” He put aside the piece he was working on, and took a new sheet of paper from the stack. He creased it, flipped the paper over, creased it again, lined up the edges, smoothed the sides together, pinched it here and there, and tugged on one edge. He did this with quick, meticulous movements, his hands crossing back and forth over the sheet as if they were tracing a melody. Suddenly, the sheet of paper crumpled and then opened into a shape—a tiny violinist, sawing away at a violin.
“That’s just crazy, man,” the guy holding the lamb chop said. “I mean, wow.”
So there, we’re officially designating origami as the cool trend of 2007. (We reserve the right to amend this at anytime.) Take an origami class to show your friends how ahead of the curve you are and check out more classes at the Y and Makor starting in March and April.
Author Michael Chabon, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2001 for The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, is currently enjoying his 15-part serialized novel Gentlemen of the Road (which at one point had the working title “Jews with Swords") being published weekly in the New York Times Magazine. Chapters 1 to 4 are online now, along with an audio reading of the first chapter. The serial has been described by Chabon as “a swashbuckling adventure story set around the year 1000.” Here’s an excerpt:
Though only a week earlier the idea would have struck him as heresy, as he lay waiting to become carrion he considered that plump and vivacious Sarah was perhaps unworthy of his suffering and death, when after all, she chewed with her mouth open and her wind, when she had been consuming too much milk, gave off an unsettling odor of brimstone.
But when he remarked the travelers, a giant African and a black-hatted scarecrow crowded onto the broad back of a massive spotted horse that looked to be on the verge of collapse, Hanukkah forgot his resolve and took a long warm swig from his water skin. The sight of living beings who were not, presumably, eaters of dead flesh awoke a fresh desire in Hanukkah, despite the wound to his belly, to prolong his existence just a little while longer, and perhaps to see his plump Sarah once more.
Found on YouTube: Stick-figure animation of a couple dancing to “Almost Like Being In Love” from Brigadoon and sung by Gene Kelly.
Those who know jazz piano, know Dick Hyman. He’s a frequent performer at the Y and it was just announced that his next show on March 10, Dick & Derek at the Movies (with pianist Derek Smith and others), will include the following film clips:
“How Are Things In Glocca Morra?” from Finian’s Rainbow (Harburg/ Lane)
“Almost Like Being in Love” from Brigadoon (Lerner/Loewe)
“The Party’s Over” from Bells Are Ringing (Comden & Green/ Styne)
Today’s Wall Street Journal has an excellent feature on poet W.H. Auden, who appeared at the 92nd Street Y more than 20 times between 1940 and 1972, and his literary executor Edward Mendelson, now a professor at Columbia. An online subscription is required to read the article but here are some choice excerpts:
When Edward Mendelson flew to Kirchstetten, Austria, in October 1973 to attend the funeral of W.H. Auden, the poet’s niece, Rita Auden, greeted him with friendly puzzlement. Then she asked Mr. Mendelson whether his father had come too. “I said, ‘I think I am the person you think is my father,’” recalls Mr. Mendelson, who in April 1972, at age 26, had been named by Auden as his literary executor.
In his 1939 elegy to Yeats, Auden declared that “poetry makes nothing happen.” His own verse vaulted him to a precocious celebrity. Born in York, England, into an upper-middle-class family, Wystan Hugh Auden became identified with a circle of Oxford-educated poets that included Louis MacNeice, Stephen Spender, and Cecil Day-Lewis. His early poetry, published by T.S. Eliot in 1930, was often obscure—deliberately so, according to Mr. Mendelson. But his lyrics, with such memorable lines as “Lay your sleeping head, my love/Human on my faithless arm,” and his left-leaning political anthems of the 1930s secured his position as a leading poet of the 20th century.
For all his devotion to Auden, Mr. Mendelson sometimes seems a bit bemused at Auden’s popularity. He remembers his surprise, for example, at the avalanche of phone calls he received about the poem “Funeral Blues,” used in “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” He has since added it, as well as some of Auden’s lighter verse, to “Selected Poems.” “Funeral Blues,” says Mr. Mendelson, “takes a cliché, and it moves it a little bit farther and turns it into a work of art. For years, people thought Auden was chilly emotionally, when it was exactly the opposite. Auden was the most obviously emotional poet you could think of.”
Auden’s generosity, Mr. Mendelson says, extended to people he had never met. “He always answered letters. He got into a big correspondence with a Canadian burglar who discovered his poetry in jail,” says Mr. Mendelson. “One of his friends told me this wonderful story of Auden coming in and waving a letter from the Canadian burglar, and saying, ‘I’ve got him reading Kafka!’”
In the U.S., Auden was very much a public figure, a fixture on television and radio. In 1963, Time magazine researched a cover story about him, but it never ran. According to Mr. Mendelson’s account, “The managing editor said, ‘The last writer we had on the cover’—whom I think was Tennessee Williams—‘was a homosexual, and we’re not going to have two in a row.’”
On March 5, Mendelson will be joined by Shirley Hazzard, J.D. McClatchy, Ned Rorem, Charles Rosen and Oliver Sacks for a Tribute to W.H. Auden at the 92nd Street Y.
Whether it’s brunch (never prepared “over-easy") or killing 45 minutes on the F train, New Yorkers love their crossword puzzles. In the latest issue of Time Out New York, Paul Katz takes 
We’re adapting an idea conceived by former New York Press editor-in-chief Jeff Koyen that involves getting writers to submit “100 Words” on any topic or thought of their choice. Read more about his project at 
“If you can stand the hailstorm of flash bulbs and the fake sentimentality and the platitudes and the mincing elocution of the glamour queens (you ought to hear them with four martinis down the hatch) and still feel next morning that the picture business is worth the attention of one single intelligent, artistic mind, then in the picture industry you certainly belong.”
Remember the old schoolyard challenge of 
Author 
