Book Review

My "main book" right now, which I call it to distinguish it from all the other books I am reading for all the other reasons, is Colm Tóibín's novel about Henry James. Well, folks, the other night, I turned a page and it popped right out in my fingers. Not torn, the page, quite whole, it just neatly popped from its place and removed itself from the book as if it hadn't been glued there at all. "Is this something to 'blog' about?" I mused silently within the seething depths of my soul. "It certainly was a dramatic incident!" But I put it out of my mind, until last night, when I was somewhat further along in the story... POP! And those caps are not accurate. It was an inaudible pop with which a second page dislodged itself from the book. And, look. "Turning" the pages is too violent a verb for what I do. Why, I'm not even creasing the spine of this delicate darling book. I'm barely holding it open! The pages are just coming out. The first time it happened, I paced back and forth in front of Dr. Theresa, declaring that something like this had never happened to me before, in all my many, many years of reading books since the days I was a precious tot. Dr. Theresa mentioned some unrelated bookish mishaps from her own experience, but none, she agreed, in which the pages of a book were just randomly popping out. But! Allow me to come clean. As I dug through the "blog," which serves as my main form of memory after (and before) recent medical unpleasantness, I discovered a few similar occasions. If you like, you may "click" on the appropriate upcoming "hyperlinks" to learn more. There was a book left out in the rain, and, of course, the old dictionary that I literally read to pieces - the latter a sort of intellectual abuse to which I also subjected a collection of interviews with screenwriters. And who can forget the time I found a pristine-looking 40-year-old paperback and opened it up and eight pages fell out? Well, I could, and did, forget that. But let me point out that this book by Colm Tóibín purports to be brand spanking new, fresh from the warehouse. Oh, Scribner! Your name used to mean something in this dirty world! Surely Charles Scribner and all his sons are out there rolling in their various (I assume) graves.

I Felt Bad

I felt bad for calling HENRY VI the "HENRY nobody wants" the other day. And I felt bad for thinking "In fact, I bet it is still on the shelf at Square Books because no one will ever, ever want it, and if it is, then I am going to buy it to prove everyone wrong, including myself." And it was, and I did. (See also.) To be specific, it is HENRY VI Part 1. It's like THE GODFATHER saga! I guess there are two more parts, the final one featuring Joe Mantegna. According to the introduction, HENRY VI Part 1 got a rave review from Thomas Nashe! Thomas Nashe was like, "How would it have joyed brave Talbot (the terror of the French) to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb, he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones new embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectactors..." Yes, that does sound pretty sweet, a bunch of people crying on your skeleton, I love it! After I bought the book out of shame, I went and told Ted at Off Square Books (one of the sister stores) my tale, and he said, "I don't think you hurt his feelings," meaning Shakespeare, presumably, but you can never be too careful, and besides, it was too late!

Bogie Bits Back, Baby!

I'm hearing that many of you across the globe are joining hands to sing "I want my Bogie Bits, Bogie Bits, Bogie Bits" to the tune of the immortal Chili's jingle for their succulent baby back ribs. Well, as Lady Rainicorn's mother says in ADVENTURE TIME, "Prayer works" (Season 8, Episode 4). McNeil is still reading that 700-page biography of Humphrey Bogart and he vows to sweep up some more bits and dump them in our grateful laps. Why, he even gave me at least three Bronson Bits recently, but I just couldn't find a fluent way to translate them into "blog"ese. Okay, the way I remember it, McNeil approved of two of the cozy hovels where Bronson lived in two Bronson movies he watched, but he felt the filmmakers spent insufficient energy on highlighting whatever kind of carpet Bronson had. Why am I dawdling while you're waiting for the bits? Here, I'll just cut-and-paste McNeil's entire email: "This Bogart bio gets really bogged down for a long time - over 100 pages - with the HUAC stuff. It puts me to sleep. I may have to skip it and move on to the important stuff...like booze and sex." End of email. Speaking of being obsessed (or not, in McNeil's case) with communists!

Some Dare Call Them Icons

I do! I dare. I dare call them icons! Personal icons of our misspent youth (middle age?) back in Atlanta. Who are they? Chuck Steffen and Bill Taft. They'll both be in town... that is, in Oxford, Mississippi, on Thursday evening! That's the day after tomorrow. Stop by the Powerhouse if you think I am lying. I know you don't exist. And as an outlet whose readers do not exist, this is a bad place to advertise. But the Thacker Mountain radio show will be broadcasting live from the Powerhouse on Thursday. The Powerhouse! Where I once took a disastrous (for me) "Community Shim Sham Dance Class." Where a reception honoring Chuck Steffen and his photo exhibit, which is currently on display in that aforementioned institution, will commence at 5:30 PM this Thursday. Then, at 6, the radio show! Where Bill Taft will perform with his latest, greatest musical project, W8ing4UFOs. The title of this "post" is loosely based on that of a book by a wacko conspiracy theorist, a very popular title in the 1960s. It is an allusion possibly so obscure that even I do not get it, though I have made it before. I'm not going to tell you the actual title of the book, because even if you don't exist, I don't want you to start hanging around the "blog" with your wacko conspiracy theories or explaining to me how you think this guy from the 1960s was right after all, or whatever your deal is.

Layers of Owl

You know that publisher nyrb. They threw a big sale with big, big savings on their "noir" titles, as they designated them: 40% off if you bought four! So one of the ones I got is called THE DAY OF THE OWL. It arrived in today's mail and I wondered whether it "really" had an owl in it, though an owl in the title is good enough for me. Anyway, I idly opened it up and saw an owl in the epigraph! Now, this particular epigraphical owl (I just looked it up in the OED to make sure, and epigraphical is a word, though I don't see evidence that many people have used it since around 1884) was borrowed from Shakespeare's HENRY VI. Now, I could have sworn I found a DIFFERENT owl in HENRY VI, but I poked around on the old "blog" and discovered that the owl of which I was thinking came from RICHARD II. That reminds me, though: I feel that I've been to Square Books a couple of times and wondered if they had a handy mass-market paperback of HENRY V or HENRY IV, but when I looked, all they had was a copy of HENRY VI! The HENRY nobody wants! This is anecdotal and not an accurate reflection of Square Books policy.

This Is Something

Heard from Ward McCarthy yesterday. He said that our friend and coworker Brian Welch, alongside whom we toiled in the promo department at TBS in the 1990s, is playing Don Pardo in that new movie that is coming out about Saturday Night Live. So how about that? That's cool! Good for you, Brian! Sorry I haven't talked to you since 1999.

Le Bits de Boyer

Don't worry, your mind isn't freaking out on you! We're preempting "McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits" for some bits about ginchy French heartthrob Charles Boyer. Our tale begins with some of McNeil's li'l bogie bits. He was telling me how after the Boyer/Bacall movie CONFIDENTIAL AGENT turned out to be a dud, they went back and... well, let's see. I need to consult McNeil's email. They "had Hawks/Bogart/Bacall and a few others get together and film several new scenes to punch up The Big Sleep even more to give Bacall more 'ooompf.'" McNeil goes on to explain that "ooompf" is his own paraphrasing of whatever they were giving Bacall more of, not that she needed it. So he was telling me this and I was like, WHAT! I just recorded CONFIDENTIAL AGENT from a TCM showing, because Dr. Theresa and I had enjoyed Charles Boyer so much in a recent viewing of CLUNY BROWN, which I had also recorded off of TCM. And then McNeil came back at me saying THAT was weird because he had recently conducted a small, informal poll about the handsomeness of Charles Boyer. I don't wish to venture into McNeil's private life, but suffice to say, in McNeil's words, "a man has to know where he stands!!!" (Triple exclamation points are McNeil's.) One will no doubt be reminded of the time that Dr. Theresa blew my mind by saying that she might well prefer the charms of Fredric March over those of Gary Cooper. That was eight years ago and I still don't believe it. I think about it every night as I toss and turn in bed!

McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits

It's Dr. Theresa's birthday! And you know what that means, of course: it's time for "McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits," the regular "blog" feature where McNeil reads a 700-page biography of Humphrey Bogart and gives us the scoop straight from his brain into our eager eye holes. Those who enjoyed the story of how Bogart gave a bellhop a nickel tip will be excited to learn that he tips a masseur in this one. But I've already said too much! Here, I'm just going to cut and paste the email I got from McNeil and my job is done. "THE BIG SLEEP was completed in January 1945. In late January 1945, Bacall was scheduled to be in NY for a publicity tour for the opening of TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT. Because the divorce between Bogie and Mayo had not quite been finalized, the studio didn’t want Bogie anywhere near Bacall. That didn’t happen. Bogie took the Super Chief to NY before her and waited on Bacall to get there (as soon as I typed Super Chief a train flew by the window of the doctor’s office I happen to be sitting in). He checked into the Gotham Hotel. The studio found out and sent a man named Stevens from their NY office to be with him 24/7 – to watch him and 'give him whatever he wants.' One night Bogie was particularly stressed and he and Stevens went to '21', where Bogie had a sandwich and a couple of drinks. Back at the hotel Bogie had a few more drinks. He still felt tense and told Stevens he wanted a massage. Warners had a masseur on the payroll so Stevens rang him up. Twenty minutes later Bogart was getting his massage – along with a couple more drinks he had ordered from room service. When the massage was over, Bogie took, as Stevens recounts, 'The fastest shower I have ever seen a man take. Less than forty-five seconds. No soap, nothing.' Bogie grabbed a towel and finished another drink and wondered where the hell that guy was with his massage. When Stevens told him he had just had the massage, Bogie became irate and demanded he come back and give him a real massage. The masseur lived in Brooklyn, but got on the subway with his table and came back and gave Bogie an hour-long massage. In the meantime, he and Stevens had ordered a steak dinner, which Bogie did not touch, choosing instead to drink more. After the massage Bogie demanded Stevens make a reservation at El Morocco, then Bogie demanded he change the reservation to the Stork Club, then he changed his mind and had Stevens make a reservation at Toots Shor’s. Five minutes later, Bogie took a nap. Sometime around ten pm (it’s only 10!!!) Bogie wakes up and needs another massage…Stevens called the masseur again, in Brooklyn, and told him to take a cab this time and Warners would pay for it. The guy came from Brooklyn for a third time and gave Bogie a brutal massage, which Bogie cursed and drank through. When it was done, Bogie was finally happy, and gave the masseur a $60 tip." You know what? That's the end of McNeil's email, but I decided to come back after all. I wanted to say that I thought I would certainly have a "blog" "hyperlink" to provide about the Super Chief, as I recalled with 88% guaranteed mental accuracy that Vic, the hero of the Doomed Book Club classic THE HUCKSTERS, had a romantic encounter or two on the very same Super Chief. But after combing the "blog" to the fullest extent of my superhuman abilities, I uncovered no evidence that I am not just living in a beautiful dream.

Dr. Theresa's Grocery Store Adventures

Yes, I have another episode of "McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits" all loaded up in the cannon and ready to fire. But first I have to tell you that there was this guy in line behind Dr. Theresa in the grocery store yesterday, and she turned and looked at him, and to her amazement, he was an exact double of Rufus Sewell. She generously pointed him to an open lane for self checkout, for which he kindly thanked her. "AND HE WAS BRITISH!" Dr. Theresa concluded her tale, triumphantly drawing the conclusion that Rufus Sewell spends his free time shopping for groceries in Mississippi. This caused me to remember a story I have believed for many years, that Dr. Theresa encountered Tea Leoni in a Blockbuster Video parking lot in Atlanta, and gave her directions to the Margaret Mitchell House. And I'm sure it is true! Let us never forget the time I gushed fervently to either Francis Ford Coppola or a random man with a beard. Hey, look, man, when I was a kid, I heard that Ernest Borgnine (and George Kennedy? Or is that a figment of my medical condition?) had been spotted at Schambeau's grocery store in Bayou La Batre. Supposedly, he was in town making a movie called THE RAVAGERS, which I'm not sure even exists. POSTSCRIPT! I looked it up, begrudgingly, and it is called RAVAGERS, with no "THE" - much like GILMORE GIRLS, which I used to erroneously call "THE GILMORE GIRLS." Also, in the first version of this "post," I called the movie "THE SCAVENGERS." And George Kennedy is not in it. As predicted by many, my brain no longer works.

This Is a Great Story

I had to run out of the house and sit in a medical-type waiting room today, only this time it wasn't for me! Anyway, I left in such a hurry that I didn't grab the book that I reserve especially for doctors' waiting rooms. I snatched up the book most conveniently located instead, on my famous side table, which (the book, not the table) happened to be THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTONY by Flaubert. Now, I'm sure you remember when I was reading THE MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN SARAGOSSA and I was all wild-eyed and brimming with hysteria when I discovered it had a cithara in it. I was like, "Wow! A book with a cithara in it! Now I've seen everything! That's never going to happen again in MY lifetime!" So I was sitting there in the waiting room this afternoon and next thing you know I'm reading about a cithara. It just goes to show you, believe in yourself and you can accomplish anything.

McNeil Bits

To be clear, these are not "McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits." These are little bits of McNeil himself, though one of them is connected to his bogie bits, if you will. He mentioned Bogart giving a bellhop a nickel tip, and I wondered what year that was, so that maybe I could calculate how much the nickel tip would be worth today. I have a lot of time on my hands. McNeil was at work, so he did not have his 700-page Bogart biography with him, but, to satisfy my curiosity, he paraphrased, from memory, an interview with the bellhop, who, according to McNeil, "laughed and made an excuse for Bogie, saying something like, 'I'm sure he mistook it for a quarter, haha.'" Thus we may conclude that the nickel wasn't worth a whole hell of a lot. Next McNeil bit! McNeil is always keeping me informed about all the greatest scientific wonders of the age! Sometimes, these developments disturb and frighten him - for example, the massive catapult that shoots satellites into space or the discovery of a giant secret planet. (And here I should remind you that you really need to access the "blog" on your desktop or laptop computer, so that you can enjoy the use of handy labels such as "McNeil's Greatest Fears." If you "click" on that one, it will take you to the numerous examples of all of McNeil's very greatest fears. We're just scratching the surface here! If you are looking at your "blog" on your phone, the labels do not appear, and therefore, much to your sorrow, you will never know the full and staggering extent of McNeil's greatest fears.) Other times, man's quest for knowledge fills McNeil with glee, such as when he was inspired by the idea of making diamonds out of skeletons, and suggested we take up graverobbing. Or when he read, and here I quote myself quoting McNeil, "an article suggesting that all the gold on Earth came from the collision of dead stars and [said], 'Let's go get us some of this!' seemingly suggesting a trip to outer space." This time, McNeil seems pretty hyped up about a company that, as he puts it, "sells sunlight from space. You open their app, and wherever you are (at night and on a clear evening, I presume) they project sunlight down from a satellite. Fine. Of course you could see how you might drive a neighbor insane. Or what a nifty burglar alarm it would be. Or now you would never have to drive at night, I guess." I take McNeil's word for these things. It's good enough for me! Finally, after watching HARRY AND WALTER GO TO NEW YORK due to a 45-year-old recommendation of mine he found while cleaning out his attic, McNeil chose, seemingly at random, a movie from the "blog's" Big List of Movies. Now, I couldn't vouch for it, as I haven't seen it, except for the opening scene. It was one that came to us through a memorable description ("click" here) by noted musician Kelly Hogan, and the name of that movie was SOMEONE I TOUCHED. Summarized McNeil: "Everyone got syphilis but found out about how love works I think."

McNeil's Shimmering Li'l Bogie Bits

The new month I promised you is already upon us, and that means it's time for an exciting new installment of "McNeil's Li'l Bogie Bits," this one cut-and-pasted directly from an email that McNeil sent me! "Bogie moves out of the house he shares with Mayo and checks into room 207 of the Beverly Hills Hotel - a small room just off the lobby. He orders ice, a glass, a bottle of beer, and hands the bellhop (Ken Leffers) a nickel tip." End of bogie bit. But! I do have a couple of questions, and when McNeil answers them, I'll let you know. 1. What year was this? And how much, then, would a nickel be in today's money? I guess that counts as a two-part question. And here is my second question. 2. How long was Humphrey Bogart married to Mayo Methot? Because we can't be very far into the bogie bits, can we? To put it another way, how far along is McNeil in the 700-page biography of Humphrey Bogart from which he gleans his precious, shimmering bits?