Sean Malone (1970–2020)

I learned this morning that my friend Sean Malone died last week. Friend, yes, though we never met in person. I was hoping that would happen in Los Angeles, on the other side of the pandemic.

Sean usually shows up in these pages as “Sean at Blackwing Pages” or “Sean at Contrapuntalism.” Sean loved pencils and brought a documentarian’s mind to the history of the Eberhard Faber Blackwing 602 and all things Faber (Faber-Castell and Eberhard Faber). And he lived a life as a brilliant musician. Take a look at his Wikipedia page, which covers his work as a performer and musicologist. His abilities are amply represented at YouTube. No pencils though.

When I taught The Grapes of Wrath, I would sometimes bring a Blackwing, a No. 2 3/8 Mongol, and a Blaisdell Calculator to class and pass them around for students to try out. Those were John Steinbeck’s favorite pencils, as documented . . . somewhere. I made a point of mentioning that the Calculator was a gift from a friend, a pencil aficionado and musician, Sean Malone. “From Cynic?!” a student asked. Worlds joining up, in a wonderful way.

“As documented . . . somewhere”: Sean would know where.

[The source for the brand names: Steinbeck’s “The Art of Fiction” (non-)interview in The Paris Review. Thanks, pencil talk.]

No influence

It has been raining. The narrator’s friend M. Bloch has arrived for lunch, an hour and a half late and covered in mud. But he has nothing to apologize for:

Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way, trans. Lydia Davis (New York: Viking, 2002).

The narrator’s father draws a conclusion about M. Bloch: “He’s an imbecile.”

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

Dr. Jill Biden

Joseph Epstein’s complaint in The Wall Street Journal about Jill Biden’s choice of honorific is a strange piece of writing. Epstein touts his own modest academic credentials (“I taught at Northwestern University for 30 years without a doctorate or any advanced degree”) while mocking Biden’s dissertation, bashing doctoral programs generally, and calling out the awarding of honorary doctorates to celebrities (while also letting us know that he has one such degree himself).

What I find most noteworthy about Epstein’s screed is not its condescending misogyny (“Madame First Lady — Mrs. Biden — Jill — kiddo: a bit of advice”) but its failure to consider the ways in which academic honorifics function in and out of academia. Ben Yagoda’s essay “What Should We Call the Professor?”is helpful on these matters:

Forms of academic address are not only intensely personal, but also tied up with far-ranging trends and issues of gender, prestige, and cultural change.

Notice: intensely personal.

My preference was always “Mister” — good enough for my dad and good enough for me, I used to tell students.  Or “Professor” (if you must). My choice, I happily acknowledge, was a form of reverse snobbery on a campus where “Doctor” was endemic (and where first names for profs were never a norm). If I were a woman in academia, I’d probably choose “Professor” and keep students from using “Miss” and “Mrs.” in place of “Ms.” If, like Jill Biden, I had received a doctorate later in life after many years of teaching, I might choose “Doctor.” Whatever the choice, it would be personal. And, like Dr. Biden’s choice, it would be none of Mr. Epstein’s b-i-bizness.

[The link in the first sentence should take you to the full WSJ piece. Fingers crossed.]

Today’s Saturday Stumper

When I saw Stella Zawistowski’s name on today’s Newsday  Saturday Stumper, I thought I was in for it. Zawistowski makes tough puzzles. (Her website: Tough As Nails.) I tried 2-D, seven letters, “Common umbrella holders.” Could be. And it went with 1-A, four letters, “Where many Bedouins live,” and 20-A, three letters, “Kid from/in Brooklyn.” This puzzle turned out to be surprisingly doable.

Some clue-and-answer pairs I especially liked:

8-D, ten letters, “Pineapples’ family.” To my ear, the answer sounds like science-fiction. I don’t know where I know the word from. Not from crosswords though.

12-D, six letters, “Word from the Greek for ‘egg.’” Huh. Or, rather, huh? (See the comments.)

21-D, six letters, “Course with a twist.” I never mind this kind of clue.

26-A, eight letters, “Bard’s players.” I’m not sure I’ve seen the answer in a puzzle before.

28-A, four letters, “Beyond buzzed.” Buzzed has entered my head via PSAs: “Buzzed driving is drunk driving.” Yes, I was thinking overindulgence.

45-A, six letters, “Small part.” Clever.

45-D, five letters, “Brats, for instance.” I had a hunch (correct) about the answer.

50-A, six letters, “Swing-stopping device.” Scotch Tape won’t do.

One clue whose answer I do not understand, 11-A, three letters, “‘2010’ monogram.”

And my favorite clue in this puzzle: 30-A, eleven letters, “‘Walking’ jazz style.” Yes!

No spoilers: the answers are in the comments.

"The rhythm of the seasons and the incidents of daily life“

Sunday, and time for the midday meal, prepared by the family’s cook, Françoise. The family sits at the table, “oppressed by the heat and especially by the meal”:

Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way, trans. Lydia Davis (New York: Viking, 2002).

Françoise’s chocolate custard is still to come.

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

“Double-extra whipped cream”

Yow: The Christmas Bow might be the most cloyingly sweet Hallmark holiday movie ever. See post title, straight from my TV.

Also:

“Smells like shortbread in here!”

“Guilty as charged!”

*

Snark aside, I predicted, correctly, a major plot development. Elaine: “Take a Christmas bow.”

*

Also: “I have a bunch of festive-themed dishes!”

*

A second prediction pans out. Elaine: “Take another Christmas bow.”

[The movie’s title is a pun: the bow is the kind you rub with rosin. Elaine, violinist and violist, is watching without snark. Send help.]

Mystery actor

[Click for a larger view.]

Ya got me. But perhaps someone will get it. Leave your guess or more certain answer in the comments.

*

Or perhaps no one will get it. The only hint I can think to offer: She’s best known as the co-owner of a Santa Monica apartment complex. Yes, it’s her again, really. Her name is now in the comments.

More mystery actors (Collect them all!)
? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ?

[Garner’s Modern English Usage notes that “support for actress seems to be eroding.” I use actor.]

“Old” ones

The narrator’s grandmother “could never resign herself to buying anything from which one could not derive an intellectual profit”:

Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way, trans. Lydia Davis (New York: Viking, 2002).

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

“Now who can that be?”

Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way, trans. Lydia Davis (New York: Viking, 2002).

Proust’s similes are epic.

Related reading
All OCA Proust posts (Pinboard)

“A nice cool dinner”

From The Naked City (dir. Jules Dassin, 1948). It’s a hot day. Mrs. Halloran (Anne Sargent) greets her husband Jimmy (Don Taylor):

“Got you a nice cool dinner — jellied tongue.”

“Oh, swell — I’m starved.”

As Daniel Tiger reminds us, we gotta try new foods ’cause they might taste good. So here’s a recipe for jellied tongue. Oh, swell.

The Criterion Channel has The Naked City and a new documentary, Uncovering “The Naked City” (dir. Bruce Goldstein, 2020), a detailed look at the movie’s locations and production.