By the Book

by Pamela Paul

  Disappointing, overrated, just not good: What book did you feel as if you were supposed to like, and didn’t? Do you remember the last book you put down without finishing?

  Boy, did I have a hard time with Moby-Dick. I read it for an assignment ten years ago and realized after the first few pages that without some sort of a reward system I was never going to make any progress. I told myself that I couldn’t bathe, shave, brush my teeth, or change my clothes until I had finished it. In the end, I stunk much more than the book did.

  What’s the funniest book you’ve ever read?

  The staff of The Onion put out an atlas that gives me a stomachache every time I read it. I can just open it randomly, and any line I come upon makes me laugh. For funny stories it’s Jincy Willett, Sam Lipsyte, Flannery O’Connor, and George Saunders. Oh, and I love Paul Rudnick in The New Yorker.

  What’s the one book you wish someone else would write?

  I’d love to read a concise, nonhysterical biography of Michael Jackson. I just want to know everything about him.

  If you could meet any writer, dead or alive, who would it be? What would you want to know? Have you ever written to an author?

  I’m horrible at meeting people I admire, but if I could go back in time, I’d love to collect kindling or iron a few shirts for Flannery O’Connor. After I’d finished, she’d offer to pay me, and I’d say, awestruck, my voice high and quivering, that it was on me.

  If somebody walked in on you writing one of your books, what would they see? What does your work space look like?

  When stuck, I tend to get up from my desk and clean, so if someone walked in they’d most likely find me washing my windows, or dusting the radiator I’d just dusted half an hour earlier.

  Do you remember the last book that someone personally recommended you read and that you enjoyed? Who recommended you read it, and what persuaded you to pick it up?

  My sister Amy and I have similar tastes in nonfiction, and on her recommendation I recently read and enjoyed Tiger, Tiger, by Margaux Fragoso.

  What do you plan to read next?

  I’m looking forward to the new Michael Chabon book. I loved The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.

  David Sedaris is the author of Me Talk Pretty One Day, Naked, When You Are Engulfed in Flames, and Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls, among other books.

  * * *

  Childhood Inspiration

  C. S. Lewis was the first writer to make me aware that somebody was writing the book I was reading—these wonderful parenthetical asides to the reader. I would think: “When I am a writer, I shall do parenthetical asides. And footnotes. There will be footnotes. I wonder how you do them? And italics. How do you make italics happen?”

  —Neil Gaiman

  What really made me want to be a writer was the Hardy Boys series, and also daily newspapers. My mom says I learned to read on the sports pages of the Miami Herald.

  —Carl Hiaasen

  Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, which my grandmother gave me when I was nine years old and very impressionable. These were surely the books that inspired me to write, and Alice is the protagonist with whom I’ve most identified over the years. Her motto is, like my own, “Curiouser and curiouser!”

  —Joyce Carol Oates

  The truth is that the most beloved and the most formative books of my childhood were comic books, specifically Marvel Comics. Fantastic Four and Spider-Man, The Mighty Thor and The Invincible Iron Man; later came Daredevil and many others. These combinations of art and writing presented to me the complexities of character and the pure joy of imagining adventure. They taught me about writing dialect and how a monster can also be a hero. They lauded science and fostered the understanding that the world was more complex than any one mind, or indeed the history of all human minds, could comprehend.

  —Walter Mosley

  * * *

  Lena Dunham

  What book is on your night stand now?

  Right now I’m looking right at Mary Gaitskill’s Bad Behavior; the new Diane Keaton autobiography; Having It All, by Helen Gurley Brown (research); and The Consolations of Philosophy, by Alain de Botton—all in various states of having-been-read-ed-ness.

  When and where do you like to read?

  On the big couch by sunlight in the afternoon when I should be working. While I get my hair and makeup done on set. In bed. Always in bed.

  What are your reading habits? Paper or electronic? Do you take notes? Do you snack while you read?

  I loved my Kindle, but then I broke it, so I am back to my first love, paperbacks. And you know what? I don’t miss that little machine, even though it was saving me pounds in my luggage. That leaning tower of books by my bed pleases me to no end to look at and rearrange. I snack while I do most things. I like gluten-free crackers and soy cheese, even though I’m not allergic to the traditional version of either.

  What was the last truly great book you read? Do you remember the last time you said to someone, “You absolutely must read this book”?

  I am obsessed with The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve, in which we learn intimate details about working with titans of the French New Wave and she talks smack about Bjork. Her prose is elegant and defiant and very, very French.

  What’s your favorite literary genre? Any guilty pleasures?

  I love biographies and autobiographies, especially of famous (and famously complicated) women. Barbra Streisand, Leni Riefenstahl, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Minor Characters, by Joyce Johnson, with all that Beat generation gossip told from the eyes of a sweet ’n’ sour teen. Spiritually leaning self-help is obviously my guilty pleasure (not that guilty: I like Ram Dass, Deepak Chopra, and especially Mark Epstein’s Buddhist psychology books). I also like extremely speculative books in which psychics explain what happens before we’re born / after we die (Sylvia Browne, master psychic). I have to read Eloise once a month or I’ll perish.

  Have you ever read a book about girls or women that made you angry or disappointed or just extremely annoyed?

  I don’t have a taste for airport chick-lit, even in a guilty-pleasure way. Any book that is motored by the search for a husband and/or a good pair of heels makes me want to move to the outback. If there is a cartoon woman’s torso on the front or a stroller with a diamond on it, I just can’t.

  And what’s the best book about girls you’ve ever read?

  Catherine, Called Birdy, by Karen Cushman. Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov.

  If you could require the president to read one book, what would it be?

  The Guide to Getting It On! seems like it would have something to offer anyone, although if Obama’s singing is any indication he’s got it covered.

  One of the movies you included in your BAM film festival is Clueless, which was based on Emma. What’s your all-time favorite movie based on a book? The worst?

  The Group is a favorite adaptation. It’s gaudy and sexy and a mess in the best way. I can’t watch the Eloise movie or I will also perish.

  What book makes you laugh?

  Without Feathers, by Woody Allen, makes me giggle like a baby. Holidays on Ice, by David Sedaris. How to Have a Life-Style, by Quentin Crisp.

  What were your favorite books as a child? Do you have a favorite character or hero from one of those books? Is there one book you wish all children would read?

  I have tattoos from children’s books all over my arms and torso. The biggest one is of Ferdinand the bull, which Elliott Smith also had, but his was a different page. What a good message that book has! Just be yourself and don’t gore anyone with your horns if you don’t feel like it.

  Disappointing, overrated, just not good: What book did you feel as if you were supposed to like, and didn’t? Do you remember the last book you put down without finishing?

  This question is so up my alley because my history is dotted with shameful unfinisheds. The Great Gatsby? I put it down in eighth grade and haven’t picked it up again. Should I not be sayi
ng this? Will I be sent away somewhere awful? I often don’t finish books, even ones that I like.

  Would you like to write a book? If you could write a book about anything, what would it be?

  Who doesn’t want to write a book? I wish it were a mystery novel set in a quietly seething college town, but alas it would likely be memoir.

  What’s the one book you wish someone else would write?

  I wish my mom would let me type and edit her journals from when she was my age, but she doesn’t trust me that they’re a fascinating account of the inner life of a young artist in 1970s SoHo. I also wouldn’t mind reading Bill Murray’s memoirs or an instructional guide to getting dressed by Chloë Sevigny.

  If you could meet any writer, dead or alive, who would it be? What would you want to know? Have you ever written to an author?

  This is not exactly an answer to your question, but I wonder fairly often how Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath would be doing in the age of better living through chemistry. I love both their work dearly. I wrote a letter to Nikki Giovanni in middle school, care of her publisher, using many different-colored pens. I didn’t hear back but do not hold a grudge.

  What do you plan to read next?

  I am woefully unread in the areas of history and politics and have a grand plan to read A People’s History of the United States, The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York, and some other books that might hack away at my ignorance. I am also looking forward to David Stockman’s upcoming book on the financial crisis, because I met him at a party and thought he was a very compelling character. I am going to go back and read The Triumph of Politics: Why the Reagan Revolution Failed (I am not a libertarian, but I will read a book by one). I just pre-ordered Sheila Heti’s book How Should a Person Be? and Love, an Index, poetry by Rebecca Lindenberg, because I read excerpts of both and found them stunning in different ways. If you couldn’t tell, I mostly like confessional books by women.

  Lena Dunham is the creator, producer, and star of HBO’s Girls and the author of Not That Kind of Girl.

  * * *

  On Ulysses

  Every few years, I think, “Maybe now I’m finally smart enough or sophisticated enough to understand Ulysses. So I pick it up and try it again. And by page ten, as always, I’m like, “What the HELL…?”

  —Elizabeth Gilbert

  I know I don’t love Ulysses as much as I am supposed to—but then again, I never cared even one-tenth so much for the Odyssey as I do for the Iliad.

  —Donna Tartt

  Overrated … Joyce’s Ulysses. Hands down. A professor’s book. Though I guess if you’re Irish it all makes sense.

  —Richard Ford

  I’d swap the last dozen pages of “The Dead” for any dozen in Ulysses. As a form, the novel sprawls and can never be perfect. It doesn’t need to be, it doesn’t want to be. A poem can achieve perfection—not a word you’d want to change—and in rare instances a novella can too.

  —Ian McEwan

  James Joyce’s Ulysses. In June of this year I reread this ever astonishing classic with my neuroscientist husband, who had not read it before, in preparation for a trip to Dublin, which overlapped, just barely, with the annual Bloomsday celebration. (And my favorite chapter? “Ithaca.’’)

  —Joyce Carol Oates,

  on the last great book she’s read

  I bet it’s great, but I wasn’t smart enough to make it through James Joyce’s Ulysses.

  —Penn Jillette

  * * *

  Neil Gaiman

  What book is on your night stand now?

  There are a few. My current audiobook (Yes, they count; of course they count; why wouldn’t they?) is The Sisters Brothers, by Patrick deWitt. It was recommended by Lemony Snicket (through his representative, Daniel Handler), and I trust Mr. Snicket implicitly. (Or anyway, as implicitly as one can trust someone you have never met, and who may simply be a pen name of the man who played accordion at your wedding.) I’m enjoying it—such a sad, funny book about family, framed in a Wild West of prospectors and casual murder.

  My “make this last as long as you can” book is Just My Type: A Book About Fonts. It’s illuminated a subject I thought I understood, but I didn’t, and its chapter on the wrongnesses of Comic Sans came alive for me recently visiting a friend at a Florida retirement community, in which every name on every door was printed in Comic Sans. The elderly deserve more respect than that. Except for the lady I was visiting, widow of a comics artist. For her, it might have been appropriate. On the iPad there are several books on the go, but they are all by friends, and none of them is actually published yet, so I will not name them.

  When and where do you like to read?

  When I can. I read less fiction these days, and it worries me, although my recent discovery that wearing reading glasses makes the action of reading more pleasurable is, I think, up there with discovering how to split the atom or America. Neither of which I did. (I clarify this for readers in a hurry.)

  What was the last truly great book you read?

  The Sorcerer’s House, by Gene Wolfe, amazed me. It was such a cunning book, and it went so deep. A foxy fantasy about a house that grows, with chapters that are the Greater Trumps of a tarot deck.

  The latest graphic novel I read was Dotter of Her Father’s Eyes, by Mary M. Talbot, drawn by Bryan Talbot. I have known the Talbots for thirty years—Bryan drew some Sandman comics—and admired Bryan’s work for almost forty years. (How old is he? How old am I?) I wasn’t expecting such a beautiful, personal mingling of biography (of Lucia, James Joyce’s daughter) and autobiography (Mary’s father was a Joycean scholar) told so winningly and wisely. It’s short but is, I think, truly great.

  Are you a fiction or a nonfiction person? What’s your favorite literary genre? Any guilty pleasures?

  My guiltiest pleasure is Harry Stephen Keeler. He may have been the greatest bad writer America has ever produced. Or perhaps the worst great writer. I do not know. There are few faults you can accuse him of that he is not guilty of. But I love him.

  How can you not love a man who wrote books with names like The Riddle of the Traveling Skull? Or The Case of the Transposed Legs?

  I get into arguments with Otto Penzler, of the Mysterious Bookshop in New York, when I say things like that. “No, Neil!” he splutters. “He was just a bad writer!”

  Otto still takes my money when I buy Keeler books like The Skull of the Waltzing Clown from him. But the expression on his face takes some of the fun out of it. And then I read a paragraph like:

  For it must be remembered that at the time I knew quite nothing, naturally, concerning Milo Payne, the mysterious Cockney-talking Englishman with the checkered long-beaked Sherlockholmesian cap; nor of the latter’s “Barr-Bag,” which was as like my own bag as one Milwaukee wienerwurst is like another; nor of Legga, the Human Spider, with her four legs and her six arms; nor of Ichabod Chang, ex-convict, and son of Dong Chang; nor of the elusive poetess, Abigail Sprigge; nor of the Great Simon, with his 2,163 pearl buttons; nor of—in short, I then knew quite nothing about anything or anybody involved in the affair of which I had now become a part, unless perchance it were my Nemesis, Sophie Kratzenschneiderwümpel—or Suing Sophie!

  And then I do not give a fig for Otto’s expression, for as guilty pleasures go, Keeler is as strangely good as it gets.

  What book had the greatest impact on you? What book made you want to write?

  I don’t know if any single book made me want to write. C. S. Lewis was the first writer to make me aware that somebody was writing the book I was reading—these wonderful parenthetical asides to the reader. I would think: “When I am a writer, I shall do parenthetical asides. And footnotes. There will be footnotes. I wonder how you do them? And italics. How do you make italics happen?”

  These days kids understand fonts and italics, and computers mean that the days of literary magic are done. But back then, we had to hand-carve our own fonts … well, more or less. I did have to learn the
mysteries of copy-editing symbols, when I was a young journalist.

  P. L. (Pamela) Travers, who wrote the Mary Poppins books, made me want to tell stories like that. Ones that seemed like they had existed forever, and were true in a way that real things that had actually happened could never be.

  There were a handful of other authors who made me want to be a writer. And I think what they all had in common was that they made it look like fun. G. K. Chesterton, who delighted in painting pictures in sentences, like a child let loose with a paint box. Roger Zelazny, who reshaped myth and magic into science fiction. Harlan Ellison and Michael Moorcock, Samuel R. Delany, Ursula K. Le Guin (although she intimidated me), and Hope Mirrlees, who only wrote one good book, Lud-in-the-Mist. But if you write a book that good you do not need to do it again.

  If you could require the president to read one book, what would it be?

  One of mine. Preferably on a day when he gets asked a really awkward question at a press conference he’d rather not answer. So he’d distract them by going, “The economy? Bombing Iran? Wall Street? You know … I read this really great book the other day by Neil Gaiman. Has anyone here read it? American Gods? I mean, that scene at the end of chapter one … What the heck was going on there?”

  Look, JFK made the James Bond franchise by talking about how much he liked the books. I can dream.

  What are your reading habits? Paper or electronic? Do you take notes?

  I like reading. I prefer not reading on my computer, because that makes whatever I am reading feel like work. I do not mind reading on my iPad. I have a Kindle, somewhere, but almost never use it, and a Kindle app on my phone, my iPad, and on pretty much everything except the toaster, and I use that, because I am besotted by Kindle’s ability to know where I am in a book. I’ve been using it to read Huge Books of the kind I always meant to read, or to finish, but didn’t, because carrying them around stopped being fun. Books like The Count of Monte Cristo.