Day 1,265, Quasi-Quarantine: Gritty Sequel "Crook Manifesto" Shows Whitehead Writing For Personal Joy

 

" ... He suspected the revolution had already happened, only nobody could see it and no one had come along to replace what had been overthrown. The old order was rubble, bulldozed into a pile with the long-held assumptions and rickety premises, and now they waited for someone to tell them what was next. No such person appeared."

A searing (literally) depiction of 1970s Harlem and its seedy underbelly, "Crook Manifesto" represents a venue for Colson Whitehead to roll around in exultation at an opportunity to revel in noir. His passion for the genre is apparent in every paragraph, with delightful turns of phrase, memorable personalities, and the use of setting as character.

"The city had recovered, they had survived, the future was here, and it looked like crap. The neighbors complained. It wasn't what had been there before, the people said, we liked the way it used to be. They always said that when the old city disappeared and something new took its place."

As a sequel, the novel brings us back in touch with Ray Carney, the owner of a furniture store who has fought hard to put himself in position to escape the criminal underworld. In the course of three distinct but connected vignettes, he fails spectacularly at staying legit, putting himself in the midst of wild shootouts and dangerous scenarios.

"A cup of coffee costs the same all over and the person who serves it is miserable in the same way, so maybe when you think you're moving around you're marching in place." 

Not that it matters to anyone but me, but this is probably my least favorite of Whitehead's books that I've read. But I think that's more a reflection of the incredible run of work he's produced than anything to do with this particular novel. For what it's worth, my signed copy also had a repeated line on two different pages, which felt like either an error or an odd decision.

Readers looking for resolution or answers won't find any in "Crook Manifesto." Instead, Whitehead has written a love letter to a time and place, a rich tribute to the idea that family and home are things we can't escape, that we come to cherish despite -- or because of -- the shared struggle.

"Crooked stays crooked and bent hates straight. The rest is survival."

Day 1,263, Quasi-Quarantine: Youthful Duet Stuns Grafton Street With A Heart-Felt "Hallelujah"

Having just visited Grafton Street in Dublin recently and witnessed the incredible busking scene there in person, this video was really touching. It's clear these two haven't played together a ton, but it's also there was some magic involved.

I miss Ireland.

Day 1,262, Quasi-Quarantine: Back To School Has Become Way More Emotional

 

Just over here in my feelings as the kids start back to school today. The house is too quiet and my heart is roaming halls that aren't here ...

Day 1,257, Quasi-Quarantine: Atlantic Ocean 1, Scooter 0

 

One broken rib later, this old man is mulling retirement from body surfing ...

Day 1,251, Quasi-Quarantine: So. Many. Manager. Fires.

 

Niles Crane just out here cosplaying as me and how I spend roughly 70% of my days currently ...

Day 1,249, Quasi-Quarantine: The Swell Season Spins Up The Glory Days In Durham

Returning on tour to celebrate the 15th anniversary of the incomparable "Once," The Swell Season erupted in the DPAC last night, turning in a truly stellar performance.

There were a number of highlights on the evening, including a new Glen Hansard tune called "Factory Street Bells," dedicated to his 10-month-old son, as well as a beautiful new song by Marketa Irglova.

I had seen The Swell Season in both 2008 and 2010, and I've seen Hansard solo a couple of times as well. He's the ultimate showman, and he puts on a phenomenal concert.

However, this performance was among the best I've seen, highlighted by "Low Rising" slowly morphing into a stellar "Into The Mystic."

The decidedly older crowd was reluctant to sing along or get too involved in the proceedings, but there seemed to be a deep appreciation for the show despite that. The Swell Season brought back tons of good memories, turning a run-of-the-mill Monday evening into an unforgettable experience.

Day 1,248, Quasi-Quarantine: Yes, I Definitely Watched Preseason Football Yesterday. That Happened.

 

Football doesn't really start until someone makes the first "Scott Hanson must be taking a dump" when NFL Red Zone stays on a 3-0 Cleveland vs. Jacksonville game through several punts.

That said, games are happening. Sure, they're practice games. But they're occurring.

It's almost time.

Limerick Friday #592: Practice Football Has Arriven -- Day 1,245

NFL football is back

Well, kinda, is the real fact

Preseason game one

Let's have some no-injury fun

And hope Tua doesn't have to survive a sack

Quarterly conversations

And talent calibrations

Promotions to boot

Raises and bonuses, for a hoot

It all has me needing vacations

The conference alignment zoo

The ACC courting fucking SMU?!

Expansion and contraction on the run

Wake me up when its done

And let me know when the NCAA's through

Of these complaints, I'm tired

In impostor syndrome you're mired

You whine about titles and roles

Then don't reach any goals

So watch out you don't get your ass fired

Wielding a bat as a lever

Hope he & the Mets never sever

The Polar Bear finally getting hot

With moon shot after moon shot

I guess better late than never

Last time ...

Day 1,244, Quasi-Quarantine: Identity And Possibility Collide In "The Ghost Writer"

 

"You don't like him much."

"I'm not in the business. 'Liking people' is often just another racket."

An aspiring writer in 1950s New York scores a meeting with his idol, novelist E.I. Lonoff, in Philip Roth's "The Ghost Writer." A bottle episode quickly turns into an occasionally confusing, often-humorous tale that includes marital strife, anti-Semitism, the process of earning attention as a writer, and, well, Anne Frank.

"I got fondled more by strangers on the rush-hour subway during two months in 1935 than I have up here in the last twenty years!"

Amidst it all, young Nathan Zuckerman struggles with his own identity even as he finally meets his hero, questioning himself incessantly: Is he a good Jew? Is he a bad person? What does his owe his family? How does he honor his past without compromising his future? 

Written in 1979 as the first of what would become a trilogy, "The Ghost Writer" features rigorous pacing that outweighs any challenges in following what is real and what isn't, cementing Roth yet again as an essential novelist.

"As even the judge knew, literary history was in part the history of novelists infuriating fellow countrymen, family, and friends ... writer weren't writers, I told myself, if they didn't have the strength to face the insolubility of that conflict and go on."

Day 1,242, Quasi-Quarantine: The East Will Rise Again

 

And now for a picture that makes me miss both Ireland and, somehow, "Game of Thrones."

Slainte ...

Day 1,241, Quasi-Quarantine: Julien Baker Covers "Act Of Man"

One of my favorite musicians honoring another one of my favorite musicians? Why yes, I would like that.

I certainly wish Julien Baker and Scott Hutchison had had more opportunities to collaborate. But heartfelt covers will have to suffice.

More, please.

Limerick Friday #591: Burning Down The Franchise -- Day 1,238

They spent and spent

But look where it all went

Welcome to the Mets

Now cool your jets

Sell everything and repent

Training camps open

And every team is hopin'

Close to the season

But scared beyond reason

Of injuries with which we'll be copin'

Quell all the strife

Wield the layoff knife

Complaints you'll field

As a human shield

'Tis a manager's life

A roll of the dice

To reverse an overpay vice 

Traded and dissed 'em

But having a farm system

Could actually be kinda nice

A quick trip to NYC

To see all we could see

Catch up with fam

And get on our Mets jam

The Big Apple and a bigger memory

Last time ...

Day 1,237, Quasi-Quarantine: Pervasive Bleakness, Sublime Beauty Propel Unforgettable "Juno Loves Legs"

 

"I wasn't fooled, I knew what kind voices were used for. I knew all the meanness in the world begins with a kind voice."

Almost unbearably brutal yet completely irresistible, "Juno Loves Legs" is a devastating look at an unseen life on the streets of Dublin, Ireland. Karl Geary captures the beautiful-but-doomed relationship between Catholic school outcasts Juno and Legs and how it is impacted by their separate paths through trauma and neglect.

"'She broke your mother's heart.'

'You broke my mother's heart.'

'Your mother loved me.'

'I know she did. It's the only way to break a heart.'"

If you can name a setback or kind of abuse, it was present in "Juno Loves Legs" and faced by one or both of the main characters. Despite the stifling overcurrent, Geary manages to find and lovingly present small moments of beauty in a masterful way.

"There's really nothing to prepare a person for having their hand taken in just the right way."

Just when you think you can't take much more, the book trails away on a tender moment. "Juno Loves Legs" is not to be missed by anyone with the constitution to persevere through how much it hurts to fall in love with characters who are cast to the wolves and yet find a connection in the fury.

"This was our room, it was home, and even there in the thick silence that would last till morning, like the silence of reading or reading about people who love and must part, I thought it perfect."

I purchased this book on a whim in Edinburgh, Scotland, drawn by the depiction of Dublin's backstreets and the powerful cover art on the European version of the book. For that reason among others, it will always hold a special place in my heart and memory as a lottery ticket that paid off.

"'It wouldn't be true, though, would it?'

'I wouldn't worry about it, true doesn't care if you believe in it or not.'

'I care.'"

Day 1,235, Quasi-Quarantine: There Goes The Summer

As the dawning realization that today is the first day of August hits, I've gotta come to terms with the impending expiration date of summer. We've packed a lot in, but boy, does it go fast.

Hat tip to the Undertones, one of my low-key, under-the-radar favorite bands.