July 3, 2013

"Ah, whither love's ardor whose heat used to scorch her?/Now his mere face can assail her like torture..."

"And being alone with him renders her frantic/It makes her a hectoring shrew, a pedantic/Wet blanket, although it is also true, in her defense/That Nate can be maddeningly oafish and dense."
Who chips a mug without knowing it, or

Doesn't see that they've just spilt some milk on the floor?

And once pointed out, he goes all Lotus

Position-y, saying mildly, "Wow. I didn't notice."
It's the new book — sadly, posthumous — by David Rakoff. "Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish: A Novel."

I exclaim "Oh, great!" out loud when I see that he's the narrator on the audiobook version. I'm so sorry that he died, but he had time to write a last book and time, even, to read it — act it — to us.

12 comments:

Eric the Fruit Bat said...

I sometimes wonder if guys like that would have traded all their accomplishments for a long life of mediocrity.

harrogate said...

Mitchell,

I wonder that too. Maybe it's a grass is greener thing. But a long life of mediocrity comes with lots of wonderful things usually. Family, friends, brief moments where it looks like the Cubs will make the playoffs, etc.

Shorter, stratospheric lives meanwhile, I have no doubt come with their shares of mediocrity as well.

Anonymous said...

"Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Remember, Dismember: A Better Novel."

edutcher said...

Byron isn't worried.

ricpic said...

Scorch her/torture: a fab near rhyme.

Anonymous said...

"Ah, whither love's blowtorch whose heat used to scorch her?/Now his mere hands can assail her like torture..."

Wasn't This "American Psycho"?

Smilin' Jack said...

I exclaim "Oh, great!" out loud when I see that he's the narrator on the audiobook version.

But it could have been so much greater. If only he'd chanted this doggerel in a nasal whine to a monotonous pounding beat, he could have made the hip-hop charts.

Hammond X. Gritzkofe said...

Never heard of the fellow, but always admired those with a clever handle on the English language.

And 47 is too young for anyone to leave.

The Crack Emcee said...

Smilin' Jack,

But it could have been so much greater. If only he'd chanted this doggerel in a nasal whine to a monotonous pounding beat, he could have made the hip-hop charts.

I was going to say - that's good writing.

Too bad you're too snooty - for an entire genre of music - to appreciate it.

You're also painfully ignorant - they're the RAP charts. What's next? I guess, if the discussion turns to New Orleans Jazz, I can expect you to start dissing the Creole sound? See what respect that'll get your opinions.

Rakoff wasn't a bad guy. Observant. And missed.

Anonymous said...

According to wiki:

Rakoff described himself as a "New York writer" who also happened to be a "Canadian writer", a "mega Jewish writer", a "gay writer" and an "East Asian Studies major who has forgotten most of his Japanese" writer.

Throw in NPR, "This American Life," the cloying excerpts above and Althouse's recommendation, and I'm outta here.

But yeah, 47 is too young and cancer is too horrible. RIP Mr Rakoff.

Smilin' Jack said...

Too bad you're too snooty - for an entire genre of music - to appreciate it.

You're also painfully ignorant - they're the RAP charts.


Knowing the difference between rap and hip-hop is usually a reliable sign that one knows nothing about music.

The Crack Emcee said...

Smilin' Jack,

Knowing the difference between rap and hip-hop is usually a reliable sign that one knows nothing about music.

So NOT KNOWING SOMETHING is a sign of your intelligence on the subject? Riiiight.

And my being Charles Mingus' step son, with a sister who sang background on many 70s "classic rock" hits - plus having my own 25+ year music career - is a "a reliable sign" to you of what, exactly, Oh Great Oracle Of Cultural Expertise?

As the old saying goes, I don't think those words mean what you think they mean,..