Happy birthday, Orange Crate Art

I remember as if it were eight years ago sitting at the fambly Dell after dinner and getting advice from my daughter Rachel about how to begin. It was Rachel who suggested this blog’s name. She and my son Ben were my guides in the world of HyperText Markup Language. Thank you, kiddos.

Now that Orange Crate Art is eight, it enjoys having the opportunity to solve problems independently. It is able to concentrate on tasks for longer periods of time and use its own resources prior to seeking adult help. It applies comprehension and vocabulary strategies to a wider variety of texts and is better able to check on and improve its comprehension as needed. Orange Crate Art applies a host of strategies when solving problems with three-digit numbers or less, recognizes a wide variety of shapes, and can readily identify patterns. It has yet to participate in dance lessons or team sports, though it occasionally dabbles in backyard play.

Thank you, reader, for reading.

[The eight-year-old language is borrowed from PBS Parents’ Child Development Tracker. I hope you agree with me that using quotation marks would destroy the effect.]

E=F♭

Here’s a theory of relativity I can understand.

As a boy caroler, Van Dyke Parks sang “Stille Nacht” for Albert Einstein. They once sat one row apart at the 3-D horror film House of Wax. And at the Princeton Junction train station, three days before Einstein’s death in 1955, twelve-year-old Van Dyke got an autograph.

Thanks to Van Dyke Parks, who sent this doctored photograph my way.

Roger Ebert on current events

Worth reading: A Statement and a “Film” (Chicago Sun-Times).

How to improve writing (no. 40)

This paragraph, on a box of Twinings English Breakast Tea, has been on my mind:

For over 300 years, Twinings has been sourcing and blending the finest, high-quality teas from around the globe to ensure that your tea has the perfect balance of tea taste, flavour and aroma. Twinings blends to perfection the finest black teas to give you a line of great-tasting teas with enticing flavour, fresh taste and invigorating aroma.

I know: it’s adspeak. But still. The redundancy (finest and high-quality, flavour and taste) and repetition (tea, tea, tea) in this paragraph make me think that the writer needs to switch to decaf. I see too a problem of logic with aroma and taste. Isn’t it the aroma that entices and the flavor that invigorates? I cannot imagine being invigorated by sniffing at my morning cup. A more sedate and more effective version:

For over 300 years, Twinings has been sourcing and blending the finest teas from around the globe to bring you the perfect balance of enticing aroma and fresh, invigorating flavour.

As my daughter Rachel pointed out to me several years ago, flavor and taste do not have complete synonymy. But here, as on the package that prompted her observation, one or the other will do.

[This post is no. 40 in a series, “How to improve writing,” dedicated to improving stray bits of public prose.]

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Marcus Aurelius on Maximus

Marcus Aurelius, on what he learned from Claudius Maximus, philosopher and teacher:

From Maximus: self-mastery, immune to any passing whim; good cheer in all circumstances, including illness; a nice balance of character, both gentle and dignified; an uncomplaining energy for what needs to be done; the trust he inspired in everyone that he meant what he said and was well-intentioned in all that he did; proof against surprise or panic; in nothing either hurried or hesitant, never short of resource, never downcast or cringing, or on the other hand angry or suspicious; generosity in good works, and a forgiving and truthful nature; the impression he gave of undeviating rectitude as a path chosen rather than enforced; the fact that no one would have ever thought himself belittled by him, or presumed to consider himself superior to him; and a pleasant humour.

Meditations, translated by Martin Hammond (New York: Penguin, 2006).

Do you know a Maximus?

Also from Marcus Aurelius
On change : On distraction : On music, dance, and wrestling : On revenge

How to improve writing (no. 39)

In August 2008 I wrote a note to myself with some book-buying advice. It ended like so: “Ask yourself, self, the crucial question: do you need to buy this book, or can you be happy getting it from the library?”

More and more often, I am happy getting it, whatever it is, from the library. So it is with Kenneth Slawenski’s J. D. Salinger: A Life (New York: Random House, 2011), a book I found myself rewriting as I read it. Its language is filled with tiresome phrasing: criticism is scathing; friends are close and personal; royalties are handsome; stories are finely crafted.¹ The words actual and actually, often meaningless intensifiers, appear again and again. Some sentences appeared to have been run through a thesaurus: “The episode scorched Salinger fans, a sensation exacerabated twelve years later when Internet booksellers replayed the feint only to deliver disappointment once again.” And Slawenski’s efforts at lit crit rely upon lengthy paraphrase and reductive symbolism: “The room also symbolizes Franny’s spiritual and emotional state.” “The value of acceptance through faith is symbolized by the character of Muriel’s tiny great-uncle.” No, and no.

Here is a sample paragraph, about a novel that was to be devoted to the Glass family:

In attempting such an ambitious work, Salinger tried to employ the same method that worked for him so well when he had penned The Catcher in the Rye: he sought to construct the new book by sewing together pieces that could also stand on their own as self-contained stories. “Zooey” is a prime example of this method. While his letters leave no doubt that “Zooey” was intended to rest with the new novel upon the book’s completion, the story’s most immediate purpose was to stand alone as a sequel to the story “Franny.”

Here’s my more readable version, which omits reference to ambition (as there’s no explanation of what makes this work so ambitious), drops the slightly pompous penned, avoids the illogic of a stand-alone sequel, and reorders elements of the paragraph to make a more logical point: yes, the story is a sequel to “Franny,” but it was meant to be more:

Like The Catcher in the Rye, the new novel was to be a sequence of self-contained stories. While “Zooey” would first serve as a sequel to the earlier “Franny,” Salinger’s letters leave no doubt that the new story was meant to be part of the novel.

Shame on Random House for not making this book’s prose better. Back to the library.

¹ And then there’s this sentence about Claire Douglas, who became Salinger’s first wife: “At the time Claire could not have suited Salinger better had he crafted her himself.”

[This post is no. 39 in a series, “How to improve writing,” dedicated to improving stray bits of public prose.]

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WTC, 1980

[From a 1980 New York City subway map.]

A related post
At the World Trade Center and St. Paul’s Chapel

From the eighty-fourth floor

A handwritten note from the eighty-fourth floor of Two World Trade Center found its way to the writer’s family in 2011. Bringing consolation? No.

Proust on 120 CDs

The New York Times reports that Naxos AudioBooks is releasing a 120-CD recording of Remembrance of Things Past.

[Remembrance of Things Past, not In Search of Lost Time: the text appears to be the C. K. Scott Moncrieff translation.]

William Kennick on writing

William E. Kennick to his students: “I want you to be writers of prose, not processors of words.” Kennick, who taught philosophy at Amherst College, required that undergraduate papers run no more than five pages and draw on primary sources only. David Foster Wallace was among his students. Kennick’s words appear, unsourced, in D. T. Max’s Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace (Viking, 2012). More on the book soon.

[Kennick’s 1958 essay “Does Traditional Aesthetics Rest on a Mistake?” was one of the best — and most lucid — things I read in grad school. I still have my xeroxed copy.]