Some of you are handy, and not just around the house. At the holidays — and beyond — two Butler readers are very crafty indeed.
Bookish: Amanda Tobier buys old books in libraries and thrift shops, then transforms them. “I make art from art,” she says. You can see her work on Tumblr and on Etsy.
Knit hats, scarves, gloves: “I knit, therefore I am,” Lucy says, and given the range and quality of her offerings, she is knitting and being all the time. Hat and glove orders are usually filled within 48 hours. Find her here.
Fiona Apple’s dog is dying, so she canceled her tour. And wrote a letter to her fans explaining why. Here’s part of her letter. But the whole thing is worth reading.
I can’t come to South America. Not now.
When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference. She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can’t leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.
Here are the concluding paragraphs of two reviews of Tom Wolfe’s new novel. One is from his hometown Bible, the New York Times. The other is from the Financial Times, based in London. Which is which? And which one would you tend to believe?
“Back to Blood is as fraudulent as the forged paintings at the center of its plot, falling victim to the social diseases it pretends to diagnose: gigantism, self-indulgence, superficiality masking as profundity, a hyperactive, hyperbolic acquisitiveness and an endless taste for the crudely obvious….When a character is dumbfounded, Wolfe informs us that this observation was ‘very much including the word’s literal meaning: speechless.’ All I can say is that Back to Blood also left me dumbfounded, very much including the word’s literal meaning.”
“Wolfe’s work, always more occupied with the social than the self, springs from the same premise. He believes that the forest makes the trees, not the other way around, and that’s why he will be remembered as a formidable replicator of times and places rather than a great creator of characters…. Tom Wolfe’s achievement, however incomplete, remains buoyant and considerable…..”
The theater is on the third floor of a church near Times Square, and there is no elevator. The set? Subliminal — it’s black box theater. But as soon as Stephen Mo Hanan steps on stage, you know this will be an immensely satisfying “King Lear.” He delivers his first lines —“’tis our fast intent/ To shake all cares and business from our age/ Conferring them on younger strengths, while we/ Unburthen’d crawl toward death” — as if death was a joke. And to him it is. This is not an old man, this is an immature boy trapped in an old man’s body — and that deepens the tragedy. I tend to nap at the theater; I didn’t at this "Lear.” Yes, the second act drags; blame Shakespeare. But for much of Act I, I was on the edge of my seat. After, I thought: Gee, what a great night, just blocks away from some of the dreariest theater imaginable. “Lear” runs October 18 to November 4. For information, click here.
First, the human ear is not, as Jonny Ive puts it, "so" unique. ("Unique" is an absolute; something cannot be more unique, less unique or most unique.) Then consider the alleged breakthrough. Apple did not know the shape of the human ear when it produced iPhones 1-5? They put out those cruddy ear buds because that was the best they could do? Or was it their secret plan to promote the Shure earbuds I love so much?
Paul Simon and his daughter sing the Leonard Cohen classic. Starts slow, but around two minutes in, she kills it. And notice how Paul doesn’t join her until the end. Sweet.
Mature, refined, female entrepreneur/creative marketing exec seeks pleasing Manhattan accommodation — small apartment, private bedroom in apt. share, house-sit — week-to-week or month-to-month, while refining long-term housing plans. A non-smoking neatnik respectful of your space, ‘stuff’ and privacy. Excellent references (in case being a long-running fan of this website does not say enough). Replies to: VeracitysChild@gmail.com. Please mention ‘Butler’ in subject line.
Her mother died. She couldn’t write. Then she could. Later this month, she has a new CD: ‘Come Home to Mama.’ This is her version of the last song her mother wrote. Brace yourself.
Her mother died. She couldn’t write. Now she has a CR coming out: ‘Come Home to Mama.’ This is her version of the last song her mother wrote. Brace yourself.
My friend Lorenzo Weisman was sick, then better, then, unknown to most of us, sick again. And now, way too soon, dead. He was only a couple of years ahead of me at college, but it seems like I have spent my entire life looking up to him. In Cambridge, he was the epitome of a sophistication that had no snobbery in it. The way he carried himself — in a crowd of strivers and wannabes, he already was who he was going to be. In his work, I admired his steadiness. So many are seduced by the glittering promise of novelty. Lorenzo was never fooled. He made smart choices, was loyal to his friends, wasn’t sharp in his practices, stayed the course. And as a husband and father — well, this is what it was all about for him. He married his trophy wife first, and as far as I can tell, there wasn’t a single day when he did not honor her. And their kids — behind his smiles and laughter, there was no doubt that he had expectations and that they weren’t low. I don’t really care about men, don’t have many male friends. But I’m going to miss Lolo so very, very much.
From Gretl Claggett to Head Butler readers: "Thanks for your generous contributions to my Kickstarter campaign for ‘Happy Hour,’ a short film that explores the memory of childhood sexual abuse, complicity and grooming. We have exceeded our funding goal! Every dollar counts and is deeply appreciated."
And from Head Butler management: It’s moving when this community steps up to support the (very few) causes that get space here. Gretl is too polite to ask, but I can tell you: films always cost more than you think. The campaign closes Friday October 12. If you’d still like to contribute, you can see the video and donate here.
The movie killed at the Toronto Festival. Oscar buzz has begun — and the movie’s not even in the theaters. (Think: November 21.) You can read the novel while you wait. And get a glimpse why there’s such a fuss.
As HeadButler.com is politics-free, I can do no more than announce the publication of "Boss Rove: Inside Karl Rove’s Secret Kingdom of Power,” by my friend Craig Unger. His thesis: Rove now controls the Republican Party. His subject is not persuaded. Rove’s review: “An entertaining work of fiction.” Which is it? Start at Harper’s, where Unger answers six intriguing questions about the book. Then, perhaps, read the non-fiction book — or novel. [To buy “Boss Rove” from Amazon, click here. For the Kindle edition, click here.]
