#also why does stephen king describe dicks so often

[strawberri-syrup]

FINALLY FINISHED DIFFERENT SEASONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I STARTED IT IN APRIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DID NOT LIKE ANY OF THE SHORT STORIES IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[duncanwrites]

All the books I read in 2020, reviewed in two sentences or less

My 2020 in reading was, naturally, a little strange. I had lots of long pauses, did a bad job of keeping track of everything I read, used an e-reader for the first time, and read more for work than I usually do.

So these may not be in strict chronological order as they usually are, and there may be a few missing, but here’s the list, as per tradition:

Rising Tide - John M. Barry: This history of the Mississippi floods of 1927 and the resulting changes in how the US deals with natural disasters is one of those stories about how politics and personality can become a part of the concrete world, and essential for understanding the racial dynamics of disaster response. Well-told, and worth reading. 

The Consultant's Calling - Geoffrey M. Bellman: A very useful recommendation from a trusted friend that now has a long-term spot in my office shelf. This book isn't only about consulting, it also offers great thoughts about finding your place and impact in organizations in general.

Range - John Epstein: I think Range is the nonfiction book that had the second- greatest impact on my thinking about myself this year (stay tuned for number 1!): I've always approached my professional and political work as a generalist, and for a long time I felt like that approach was leading me to a dead end. Reading this convinced me that I could be effective and even more useful with my fingers in a lot of different pies, and nudged me to keep searching for my most effective place in the movement.

The Accusation - Bandi: A harrowing work of realist fiction from North Korea that shows the toll authoritarian hero-worship takes on the soul.

The Underground Railroad - Colson Whitehead: I found that the quality of The Underground Railroad did not quite match its notoriety. It felt like two books awkwardly joined, where the more grounded approach to the emotional and interpersonal stakes of slavery and freedom was attached to a poorly-explored fantasy device.

Maus - Art Spiegelman: So much more than a book about the Holocaust, Maus is about parents and how pain is handed down between generations.

I Love Dick - Chris Kraus: After a long enough time, it becomes hard to evaluate books that are meant as a provocation as well as storytelling, but even 20 years on, it's not hard to see why I Love Dick brought us so much of the style and voice of feminist writing on the internet. A unique, itchy, sticky piece of work.

Bloodchild - Octavia Butler: Whenever I see an Octavia Butler book in a used book store, I buy it. This collection of short stories is a fantastic example for what transgressive, visionary speculative fiction should aspire to.

King Leopold's Ghost - Adam Hochschild: What I love about this book and the other I've read by Hochschild (Bury the Chains_ is that he very carefully merges deep explorations of systems of violence with the way that they can be undone by the people who participate in them. King Leopold's Ghost is as much about Belgium's murderous plunder of the Congo as it is about the successful global movement against it.

Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon: Priory of the Orange Tree is built on a strong foundation, melding Eastern and Western dragon stories into one universe, but couldn't seem to tie all of its threads together in a compelling way by the end.

Desiring the Kingdom - James K. A. Smith: Smith's point about meaning and desire being embedded in every day practices is a valuable one, but I think I may be just too far outside of his target audience of religious teachers and thinkers to get the most out of his explorations here.

City of Brass, Kingdom of Copper, Empire of Gold (The Daevabad Trilogy) - S. A. Chakraborty: This series is exceptional, and some of my favorite books of any kind that I read this year; I certainly think I recommended them more often than anything else I read in 2020. A high fantasy built on Islamic and Arab cultural iconography, the characters are insightfully developed, the world building grows with precise pacing, and the themes of intergenerational trauma, and sectarianism are handled with expert delicacy.

Leadership and the New Science - Meg Wheatley: While I appreciate the effort to apply metaphors developed from scientific paradigm shifts to provoke paradigm shifts of thinking in other areas of work, I think this book strains its chosen metaphors a bit too far to be useful.

The American Civil War: A Military History - John Keegan: I appreciate that there's a value to these kinds of military analyses of conflicts, but I found this book's neutral tone - and sometimes admiring takes - towards the Confederacy off-putting. Two things I did take from it: the outcome of the war was not certain at the beginning, and speed is truly a critical part of winning conflicts.

To Purge This Land with Blood - Stephen Oates: This was the first substantial reading I had ever done about John Brown, and Oates' book made it very clear why he is still one of the American historical figures most worth talking about today. The contradictions, complexities, and unimpeachable truths caught up in his raids are almost too many to name, but I think he is one of the people most worth thinking about when considering what actually changes the world.

Normal People - Sally Rooney: Anyone who denies that this book is anything less than a truly great novel is not telling the truth, or does not actually care about the feelings people feel. It is a work of keen emotional observation, and perfect, tender language, as well as a pleasingly dirty book -- and there is nothing I would change about it.

Conversations With Friends - Sally Rooney: Still a banger, I think Conversations with Friends struggles somewhat to get to its point, and has less of the pleasing depth and ambiguity of Normal People. Still worth your time and attention, I think.

The Glass Hotel - Emily St. John Mandel: I loved Station Eleven, and I can't imagine having to follow it up, and I unfortunately think The Glass Hotel doesn't quite accomplish all it set out to do. It wandered, hung up on a few strong images, but never progressed towards a point that needed to be made, and I finished it feeling underwhelmed.

The Water Dancer - Ta-Nehisi Coates: Coates is an essential nonfiction writer who can turn a phrase to make devastating, memorable points - but I thought his novel failed to do very many of the things that make his nonfiction great.

A Visit From The Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan: Someone once recommended this book to me as a way to study voice in character development - it is certainly that, as well as a brutally efficient window into hope, fame, and aging.

Trick Mirror - Jia Tolentino: The best parts of Trick Mirror show why Jia Tolentino is one of the writers most worth reading today: she knows how to find the experiences and people that wormhole you into dimensions of American culture that you might not otherwise think carefully about. While I think some of the essays in the book are weaker than her usual work, overall it is still terrific, and her essay on Houston rap, evangelical culture, and drugs is one of the best anythings I read all year.

My Dark Vanessa - Kate Elizabeth Russell: I feel like I'm on very shaky ground making any definitive takes about a book like this that is so fundamentally about gendered violence and what it means to be a victim of that violence. But I will say that I think it's important to recognize how power and charisma can be used to make you want something that actually hollows out your soul.

Prozac Nation - Elizabeth Wurtzel: Without a doubt, this is the nonfiction book that had the greatest personal impact on my life in 2020, and I have much longer things I've written about it that I will probably never share. While I've not ever been to the extremes she describes here, Wurtzel describes so many things that I clearly remember feeling that the shock of recognition still hasn't worn off.

The New Jim Crow - Michelle Alexander: In truth, we should all be shaking with rage at the American justice system every single day. This is certainly not the only book to explain why, but it does a particularly good job of explaining both the deep roots, and rapid expansion of the system we need to dismantle.

The Martians - Kim Stanley Robinson: Getting another little taste of the world Robinson built in the Mars Trilogy only made me want to drop everything and read them again. Well-made, but not stand-alone short stories that are worth reading if you've finished the novels and aren't ready to leave the formally-Red yet.

The Wind’s Twelve Quarters - Ursula K. Le Guin: One of the things that makes Le Guin so special is the sparseness of her prose and world building, and her genius is very much evident in her short stories.

Matter - Iain M. Banks: This is the second Culture series book I've read by Banks, and once again I thought it was inventive, satisfyingly plotted, but not so heady to be imposing. A very solid read.

Ogilvy On Advertising - David Ogilvy and Ogilvy On Advertising in the Digital Age - Miles Young: The original Ogilvy on Advertising is  frustratingly smug but at least delivers plain and persuasive versions of advertising first principles. Ogilvy on Advertising in the Digital Age is also frustratingly smug, but is mainly useful as an example of the hubris and narcissism of contemporary advertising executives.

Goodbye to the Low Profile - Herb Schmertz: Schmertz was the longtime public affairs director for Mobil Oil, and in this book he talks about how they worked to manage public debate about the oil industry, without realizing that he's writing a confession. Reading this it is abundantly clear how the oil industry's commitment to making deception respectable led to the collapse of the American public sphere.

The Lean Startup - Eric Ries: I was surprised by how much I liked this book, and wish more people who wanted to start political projects would read it. The Lean method is a way of building organizations that are ruthlessly focused on serving their base of supporters, and evaluate their work against real results - and I think we all could use more of those.

Zero To One - Peter Thiel: Another book that reads like a confession when perhaps not intended to, Zero To One's main point is that the point of building businesses should be to build monopolies, and that competition is actually bad. A great starting point for understanding what's gone wrong in America's tech economy.

The Mother of All Questions - Rebecca Solnit: Of the many things to cherish about Solnit as a writer, the one I needed most when I re-read this book is her ability to gently but doggedly show other ways of imagining the world, and ourselves in it.

Native Speaker - Chang-Rae Lee: I think this is the third time I've read this novel, and the time I've enjoyed it the least: somehow on re-re-reading, the core metaphors became overbearing and over-used, and the plot and characters thinner.

Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller: There are several excellent entries in the sub-genre of classic tales re-told from the perspective of silent women characters, but this is the first I've read re-told from a man's perspective - in this case, the likely-lover of Achilles in the Iliad, Patroclus. While not necessarily a groundbreaking work of literature, it is a very well-executed one that tells a compelling story about how violence can destroy men who carry it out.

Uprooted - Naomi Novik: What makes Uprooted so engrossing is that its magical world feels grounded, and political: magic has consequences for the individuals who use it, and further consequences based on their place in the world. What makes it frustrating is the overwhelming number of things the author has happening in the story, and the difficulty they have bringing them to a conclusion.

[joshuahyslop]

BOOKS

The last 10 books I’ve read:

1. Wolf - Jim Harrison  I found this book in one of the little neighbourhood book exchanges that are all around Vancouver. They look like little log cabins and it’s a loose “take a book, leave a book” policy. I’ve liked some of Harrison’s other books as well as some of his poetry so I picked it up. It’s fairly well written but it’s one of the most depraved and depressed characters I’ve read in a long time. It’s like a darker more depraved version of “On The Road”. More misogynistic, more obsessed with sex and completely lacking of anything philosophic. One of the reviewers on the back cover said it was (paraphrasing) a poetic depiction of a joyful life. I guess I must have read a different book.

2. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon The first book of Pynchon’s I’d picked up. This was such an enjoyable read. I’ve steered clear of his books for fear of not being able to understand them. Every time I’ve talked about wanting to read his book “Gravity’s Rainbow”, I’ve been asked if I’ve read anything else by him. As if that’s a requirement. When I bought this book the teller asked me the same question. When I said no, he said “This is a good place to start.” I don’t know why that is, but now I’ve read one of his books and enjoyed it. I’ve eased into the Pynchon. I think I’m allowed to read another one now.

3. Joyland - Stephen King This was incredibly disappointing. I’ve read a lot of King’s books. They’re often hit or miss but they’re almost always enjoyable as brain candy. Books like, “The Shining”, “Carrie” or “Misery” are well written and suspenseful. It makes sense why he’s heralded as the King of Horror. But this one does not measure up. In fact, it falls very short of the rest of his work that I’ve read. I felt myself cringing at some of his dialogue. It was just so cheesy. Even though it was set in the 70′s, no one’s ever spoken like that. There’s very little suspense and the story itself isn’t very engaging. When you finally get to the action it’s only a couple of pages and then it’s done. It’s a very quick read, but definitely skippable.

4. The Truth About Stories - Thomas King A friend of mine who loves to read gave me a bag full of books to check out. This was one of them. It’s one of the CBC Massey Lectures and I love that series. I have a bunch of them already so I was excited to check this out. I also have King’s book, “The Inconvenient Indian” on my bookshelf in my “to read” pile. A pile that does nothing but seem to grow. But it’s still a ways down in the pile. So I thought I’d check out this little book because it’s only 5 essays and it would give me a sample of his writing. I’m very glad that I did. It’s so well written. It’s funny, it’s sad, it makes you think. If you care about stories, politics, religion, and the treatment of First Nations people by the US and Canadian governments, you should give this a read. I can’t wait to get to his book.

5. Deadeye Dick - Kurt Vonnegut In my last post I mentioned liking Vonnegut a lot and being surprised at how few of his books I’d read. It turns out I’m just very bad at using technology. I keep a Word document of all the books I’ve read to avoid reading the same book twice, accidentally. I’d tried using the “find” function and somehow did it wrong, so only a few Vonnegut titles showed up. As it turns out, this was the ninth book by Vonnegut that I’d read. That makes way more sense to me. I enjoyed this one a lot. It’s pretty funny and pretty sad. A good combination, if you ask me.

6. 69 - Ryu Murakami One of my favourite local used bookstores offers store credit if you bring in some books and they decide to buy them from you. You can either take cash or store credit. If you choose credit, you have to spend it all before you go. It’s fun. On this particular visit I had about $60 worth of credit. I’d picked the books I wanted and still had $14 left. They recommended this book. i’d never read anything by this Murakami (no relation to Haruki) so I had no idea what to expect but I was excited to check it out. I loved it. It takes place in 1969 and follows the path of some high school students looking to join or start some kind of counter-cultural movement. The two main characters actually reminded me a lot of my own experience in high school. I’ll be checking out more of his writing for sure.

7. Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace Good lord. This was a mountain I’d tried to climb once before and failed. To have finally finished this book is no small feat. Standing at the top, looking back down I’m actually amazed I made it all the way through. It’s not that it’s an unenjoyable read. On the contrary. It’s very well written and quite enjoyable. It’s just that it’s over 1100 pages and contains 388 footnotes, many of which are several pages long and some even have footnotes of their own. At times it can feel like you’re reading two or three books at once. Another challenge is that there are at least 3 plots taking place all at once. Each story can jump ahead or backwards in time which can be tricky to track, PLUS there are character’s plot-lines that are introduced in great detail (one that comes to mind takes 11 pages to describe a young man addicted to marijuana anxiously waiting for his dealer to arrive) that are never again revisited. The three main story lines are loosely connected but the book takes its sweet time revealing that fact. All of that, mind you, and we still haven’t even mentioned the deep themes of addiction, suicide and capitalism that run throughout the book. I’m very glad I’ve read it. I usually enjoyed doing so. But if you’re not committed, if you don’t have some serious time to lean in, or if you don’t like his style of writing then perhaps you should steer clear. It’s an uphill climb, for sure.

8. Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things - Lafcadio Hearn This book caught my eye while I was taking my son for a walk. It was in the window of another one of our local bookstores, so I stopped in and checked it out. It’s a book of Japanese ghost stories and myths from hundreds if not thousands of years ago. The stories themselves are sometimes scary, sometimes funny, sometimes very confusing, but always enjoyable. Although the last three chapters completely disregard all things Japanese and consist of the authors philosophical rumination regarding Butterflies and the afterlife, Mosquitoes and the taking of innocent life (even when it seems to serve no purpose), and Ants and their altruistic existence vs our individualistic societies. There are other books in this series and I plan to check out at lease one more. I’ve always wanted to go to Japan so I’ve got a definite bias here, but if you like myths or ghost stories there’s a good chance you’d enjoy this book.

9. Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer I know I’m late to the party on this one, but this is a fantastic book. It’s one that I’ll be recommending for years to come. Its subtitle is: “Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of Plants”. It is all of that and so much more. I truly loved reading this book. I took notes. I underlined. I had to stop to think and reflect. I’d definitely encourage you to do the same.

10. Masters of Atlantis - Charles Portis This book is hilarious. Very dry, very droll. It’s a tongue-in-cheek look at the people who organize and who believe in secret societies, cults and religion in general. I didn’t know what to expect when I started it. The only other book by Portis that I’ve read was True Grit. This book is absolutely nothing like that. It’s completely it’s own. The only thing it has in common is Portis’ sense of humour. I don’t know that I’ve ever read anything quite so dry as this before. Maybe something by S.J. Perelman or something like that. This book was recommended to me by M.C. Taylor from Hiss Golden Messenger so I was pretty confident it would be good. It’s safe to say I would never have picked it up without the recommendation but also, I’m glad that I did.

more soon, -joshua

[anythingstephenking]

The Morally Grey Mile

Strap in for another grim tale. At least men are the ones getting fucked in The Green Mile, amirite ladies? No, still not cool? Ok then.

I suppose it is a disservice to call The Green Mile solely a “grim” tale, but because the core story focuses on an innocent man headed to the electric chair, it is pretty damn grim. If you haven’t read the book you’ve seen the movie but spoilers anyway - the innocent man dies and it sucks for the reader. It’s certainly more complicated than “bad wins” but a real bummer all the same.

Backing up a bit. The Green Mile was King’s first attempt at a serialized story release. In the book’s forward, King tells us it’s story of inception. Through a series of fortuitous events and a conversation with business associates about Charles Dickens, King concocted the idea to release a story in a series of “chapbooks”. Apparently Dickens released some of his stories that way, and they were so fervently popular that a band of dingdongs pushed each other off a dock and drowned while awaiting a shipment of Dickens into Baltimore Harbor. I imagine if the Harry Potter books were released that way I would have ended up in the harbor too. No judgement, zealous Dickens readers, I get it.

Logically, if it worked for 19th century Dickens, it would surely work for 20th century Stephen King, right? 

(cue Mr. Burns fingers). 

A single book released in installments monthly, garnering 3-4x the cost of a single paperback. Good for you SK, good for you. Cause turns out, the constant reader ate it up and bought ‘em like hotcakes.

Cause that’s the thing - this is a really really good story. Not because it’s beautifully written like Cujo or Firestarter or mind-bending like The Dark Tower books, but because it is a real page turner. I credit the format for that - you can tell it was written in a plot-driven, cliffhanger kinda way. In the same way serialized TV (before binging took this joy away) would leave you wanting more week to week, The Green Mile leaves each installment in a way where you can’t imagine not picking up the next one.

Per my contractual agreement with myself, I am required to reach each and every page of this story, but I’m a strange bird and the rest of the world isn’t a weirdo like me. At the end of the day, the narrative structure here really works and I plowed through all 6 installments in a day or so. Those reading in real-time (and not binging like me) waited a month between each publishing, from March through August 1996. There was no dock delivery in Baltimore in 1996 but I imagine if there was, the crowd waiting for each would be large.

So the narrative approach works, but what about the story itself? My analysis comes back slightly muddy but mostly positive despite some hard to swallow flaws.

I can’t claim to know what death row would have been like in 1932, but I’ve watched enough PBS documentaries to know what it’s like now. The group held at Cold Mountain are described as killers, yes. As rapists and wife beaters and arsonists. But they also come across like a rag-tag group of buds that should have their own reality TV show. One of the prisoners, Del, raped and murdered a young girl then accidentally killed a bunch of other people trying to cover his tracks by setting the building on fire. But he’s got this cute, somewhat supernatural mouse named Mr. Jingles that does tricks. Ain’t it cute? Then he fries and literally catches on fire in the electric chair.

I understand the intention of the tale - humanity lives in all of us. Empathy shouldn’t be reserved just for some. Death is final and it comes for all of us. What I struggled with was trying to understand if this was blatant reference to King’s personal stance on the Death Penalty (against it, obvs) or something more subtle. Should we take away that killing is wrong no matter what? Or that there is more nuance at play here?

Because there’s more happening on the green mile than just murderers dying (no matter how dramatically) in the chair comically nicknamed “ol’ sparky”. We’ve got John Coffey in chains, convicted of raping and murdering two 9 year old girls. JFC. I just can’t.

But he did, and he will die for his crimes. Here’s where the controversy around this novel begins. John Coffey is a large black man with magical powers. Spike Lee specifically calls out King publicly for this “magical negro” trope, which honestly I can’t disagree with. Dick Halloran from The Shining and Mother Abigail from The Stand fall neatly in this bucket as well. But even as I type this I know I am cherry-picking; I’ve read plenty of King stories with mystical beings and they’re mostly white (or more often other worldly). But King’s repeated use of the n-word and other racial slurs in his writing is real cringeworthy. As I move further towards his 21st century writing I keep hoping this will stop. It hasn’t yet, as of 1996. But King and writing about race is an entirely separate post for another day.

Back to The Green Mile; we learn that John Coffey has special healing powers when he cures the head guard, Paul Edgecomb of a UTI by grabbing his crotch. Normally this type of behavior will get ya thrown in the hole, but Paul’s so grateful he lets it slide.

Once we learn of the healing powers of Coffey, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to solve the mystery. While getting arrested he cries “I tried to stop it but it was too late.” Everyone involved in the investigation assumes he means he tried to stop himself from murder but couldn’t; anyone with half a brain can deduce that someone else killed the girls; he tried to heal them. He was too late.

We’re set off to learn who really murdered the girls, but this revelation takes a backseat, at least in my mind. For me, the big mystery is; will John Coffey get executed? I’ll be honest, I hadn’t seen this movie, so I didn’t know. The phone the governor used to phone in stays-of-execution was mentioned early, so my Chekhov’s Gun senses lead me to believe it was possible. Why bother if not? Well the phone is mentioned at execution time, only to say it won’t ring. And of course it never really was a question - Coffey is a black man in the south, convicted of murdering two girls in 1932. Of course no one’s coming to save him. It’s sad. Real sad.

We’re given solace in the fact that Coffey claims he’s ready to go - his powers are too much and he’s tired. This is a nonsense cop out that provides relief to all those that understand the truth, allowing them to go on living, loving their wives and kids and casseroles. John Coffey should not have died. The end. 

Things are wrapped up in a bow with the end stories of everyone involved and their timely and untimely deaths. I guess that’s it; life sucks, then you die; death can come for you in any way, without discrimination.

I earmarked what is one of my favorite lines I’ve encountered so far in King’s work.

“We had once again succeeded in destroying what we could not create.”

Executing anyone (murderer or not) takes a toll on most of the prison staff. I just loved this so much on so many levels; they are men without the ability to create life; they are not god; they are mortals stealing mortality. So beautiful.

So, it’s no stretch to call this the brother of Shawshank, but at least we get a female character in Paul Edgecomb’s wife. I don’t remember her name so that’s not great. But she was a woman and she at least was there, so it gets knocked up a few rungs from Shawshank IMHO.

I’d have to say this is one King novel that really perplexed me. I suppose I got into the routine of enjoying typical good-vs-evil tales where the good guys eventually overcome. For me, The Green Mile wasn’t green at all but a wavering shade of grey I still can’t see properly.

(Side note: As I sat down to write this, I thought to myself “I’m not sure what I’ll say about The Green Mile.” Turns out, quite a bit, this is probably one of my longest entries. Who knew?)

8/10

First Line: This happened in 1932, when the state penitentiary was still at Cold Mountain.

Last Line: I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.

Adaptations:

Like it’s brother Shawshank Redemption, I had never seen this movie before. It made it’s run through awards season in 1999, mostly for Michael Clarke Duncan’s portrayal of John Coffey. Who later tragically died of a heart attack with his girlfriend Omarosa (of Trump WH fame) which I didn’t know, but good golly, that is another sad story for another day.

Listen, this is a highly regarded movie that’s on many top lists, so I won’t stab into it too hard. But it is SO LONG.

Frank Darabont got his panties all in a bunch when folks told him a 3 hour running time was too long, claiming that if 2 hours was the correct length of a film that cinema classics like Lawrence of Arabia were invalidated. Well guess what? I’ve seen Lawrence of Arabia, and yes that shit is too. damn. long. As is The Green Mile.

One would think that with 3+ hours of material, the character development would be on point. It’s not really; the prisoners are mostly glossed over (even more so than in the book) as lovable murders. Wild Bill is the exception (overacted by Sam Rockwell), and he serves as the sole real “bad guy”. 

Edgecomb and his other prison guards are painted as saints (again, minus one guard who takes on the “bad guy of the good guys” role). If the book was grey the movie is much more black and white. Tom Hanks for president for sure, the guy is a national treasure. But they were one step away from giving him an actual halo. As someone complicit in the murder of an innocent man, I just can’t declare his character for sainthood. The real Tom Hanks, a million times yes. Paul Edgecomb? Nah.

The movie is fine. I approve of Darabont’s relationship with King and have thoroughly enjoyed their previous collaborations. I was sad to see that he let his film rights to The Long Walk expire last year, picked up by New Line and James Vanderbilt (of Vanderbilt fortune... old money... sigh) who penned Zodiac, which leaves me slightly hopeful but assume it’ll trickle back into development limbo for the remainder of eternity.

I’ve already finished my next read, Desperation and after I slog through the 2.5 hour ABC miniseries (UGH) I will keep trucking. New Year, more pressure placed on myself to plow through the back half of King’s bibliography.

[lovemesomesurveys]

oo1. Do you miss someone who you shouldn’t right now? No. There is nothing wrong with missing the ones I miss.

oo2. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? Ty is.

oo3. What time did you get up today? 4:30ish.

oo4. If you could have any job/talent, what? (regardless if can or not)? I wish I could do something. It’d be cool to be able to play an instrument, sing, draw, write...

oo5. Who, in your opinion, is the best thriller writer? I wouldn’t really know. The only one that comes to mind at the moment is Stephen King, and that’s just because that’s one that I know of.

oo6. Does your Mom eat meat? Yes.

oo7. Was your Dad ever on a sports team? He played baseball in high school.

oo8. Do you like apple and cinnamon crumble? Not really my thing.

oo9. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve learned today? It’s been today for 44 minutes and I haven’t really done a whole lot in that time, so nothing so far.

o1o. Do you prefer thick or thin crusted pizza? I like pan crust pizza.

o11. Do you know anyone who is blind? No.

o12. Do you prefer monkeys or pigs? I don’t really prefer one over the other.

o13. Have you ever had an eerie/paranormal experience? What happened? Nah.

o14. Do you own every DVD boxset of your favorite show? I have a few box sets of I Love, Lucy and one of The Dick Van Dyke Show.

o15. Actually, what is that favorite show? I have several, two of which are listed above.

o16. Do you have any friends with the same name as you? No, but my friend’s mom is also named Stephanie.

o17. How many people of the same name as you have you ever met? A few. It was a common name in school growing up.

o18. What day of the month were you born on? Has this number occurred a lot? The 28th. Well, the number 8 has been my favorite number since I was a kid if that counts.

o19. How often do you see your best friend? I see her everyday seeing how we live together.

o2o. Do you like cookie dough ice cream? Yeah.

o21. Do you like incense or does it give you headaches? I love the scent patchouli.

o22. What sitcoms do you watch? Roseanne, The Golden Girls, I Love, Lucy, The Dick Van Dyke Show, Full House, Boy Meets World... those are ones that come to mind. I think the rest of what I watch are series and reality TV.

o23. Do you find tigers beautiful? Yes.

o24. I don’t give up easily - is this you? I used to be that way. I have given up on a lot of things now, though. I’ve let go of myself, which hasn’t been good.

o25. Do you prefer to watch or attempt? Watch.

o26. What do you wish your national flag looked like? I like our flag.

o27. What time do you usually have a shower? At night.

o28. Do you believe that people can be psychics? No.

o29. What is your most notable trait? I don’t know.

o3o. Are you proud of this trait, or ashamed?

o31. Do you like waterfalls? They’re beautiful to look at. I’d be afraid to go near or under one, though.

o32. If you wrote a song about life right now, what’d it be called? I don’t know. That could be the title cause I really just don’t know about anything.

o33. If you wrote a novel about your whole life, what’d you call it? *shrug*

o34. Who has the prettiest middle name you know? I don’t know.

o35. So, what’s your name? Stephanie.

o36. What’d be your name if you took your Mom’s middle name? Renee.

o37. Would you rather be a farmer or engineer? I wouldn’t be good at either one.

o38. A psychologist or a football coach? Fun fact: I have a BA in psychology. Not that I could be a psychologist with that, but once a time a long time ago that was the plan.

o39. Do you shout when you’re upset? I cry.

o4o. What color is your favorite vegetable? Green.

o41. Do you get more eye pain or back pain? I have chronic back pain.

o42. When was your last hug? Earlier.

o43. Describe your house to me: Nah, I did a whole survey about that recently.

o44. Why did you choose to wear what you’re wearing today? Because it’s comfy and warm.

o45. Do you like banana milkshakes? Mmm, yes. They’re my favorite kind.

o46. What do you have in your fruit salads? I don’t eat fruit salads.

o47. Do you have a calendar in your bedroom? What is on it? I do, it’s a gorgeous Alexander Skarsgård one. (:

o48. What color is the sink in your bathroom? White.

o49. Are you hungry right now? Kinda.

o5o. Where was the last place you ate, except from home? I had take out last night that I ate at home, but it wasn’t from home so does that count?

[sliceannarbor]

John Donohue

Artist/Food Writer Founder, All the Restaurants in New York New York, New York  alltherestaurants.com  Instagram: @eat.draw.repeat powerhouseon8th.com

Photo by Aurora Donohue

SPECIAL GUEST SERIES

John Donohue is an artist and the founder of All the Restaurants in New York, a visual exploration of New York City’s culinary offerings. Just about every other day, since January 1, 2017, he has posted his sketches of the facades of such New York mainstays as Babbo, Balthazar, Bistro Vendome, The Odeon, Tribeca Grill, Grand Central Oyster Bar, Scarpetta, Craft, Prune, Gramercy Tavern, Katz’s Delicatessan, Esca, and Buttermilk Channel. To date, John has drawn nearly 100 restaurants, with the simplicity of nothing more than archival inks on paper. He is also the editor of Man with a Pan: Culinary Adventures of Fathers Who Cook for Their Families, a 2011 best-selling anthology featuring contributions from Mario Batali, Mark Bittman, Mark Kurlansky, Stephen King, and Jim Harrison. Prior to starting this project, John was an editor at The New Yorker magazine, where he also published cartoons. John draws every day, and also writes, only occasionally now, about cooking at home on his blog, Stay at Stove Dad. He resides in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife and children.

FAVORITES

Book: Moby Dick

Destination: Anywhere I have my pen and drawing pad.

Motto: Just draw.

Film: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

THE QUERY

Where were you born?

I was born in the suburbs north of New York City.

What were some of the passions and pastimes of your earlier years?

I learned all of my pop-culture references backwards, through the warped lens of Mad Magazine. My parents never let me see movies, and the only way I could stay current with my friends was to follow the parodies in its pages. I also spent hours in my parents’ den looking through old volumes of New Yorker cartoons.

What is your first memory of art as an experience?

I liked drawing boats as child. I was proud of the way I figured out how to draw the waves under the hull. My first-grade teacher thought I was talented and wanted to give me lessons. Unfortunately, I didn’t trust her as she had a reputation for disciplining kids by pulling them out of their chair by their hair, and I missed out.

How did you begin to realize your intrigue with drawing/illustration?

I took up drawing in earnest after I got married. I started with Betty Edward’s Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. I took classes at the Art Students League. I practiced on the subway while commuting to work. But I didn’t really get serious about drawing until a few years ago when I came to recognize its unbelievably powerful effect on my state of mind.

Why does this form of artistic expression suit you?

I do it for the result it has on my state of mind and not the result it leaves on the page. Twenty minutes of it is powerful medication. Whenever I draw I am calmer and much more alive.

What led to your work as an editor with The New Yorker magazine?

I wanted to be a writer and I got lucky when a friend from college connected me with people there. I started as a messenger, back when the magazine still had them.

What types of projects did you enjoy working on most while in this post?

I most enjoyed the company of my colleagues at The New Yorker. I learned more than I could have imagined from working alongside them.

How and when did the concept for Every Restaurant in New York  come to you?

I thought of it about two years ago. I had developed a daily drawing practice, which I continue to this day, of rendering my dish rack. I wanted to draw something that might have more universal appeal. I have a great interest in food and cooking (I created and edited the anthology Man with a Pan: Culinary Adventures of Fathers Who Cook for their Families, in 2011) and lit upon restaurants as a possible subject.

What are your hopes and dreams for this project as it evolves?

I really want to draw forever. I hope people continue to support the project so I can continue to do so. I discovered that the finished drawings bring great joy to people, just as the process of making them brings me joy, so it’s a virtuous cycle. I’m donating a portion of the proceeds to hunger-relief organizations, so I hope to be able to continue to do that. I like fostering virtuous cycles that are expanding.

What led to your decision to follow the 20-minute drawing session rule for each illustration?

It’s less of a rule than a fact. I just find that when I’m done about twenty minutes have passed.

How would you describe your creative process?

My drawing is all about being in the moment. Drawing places me emotionally in the present in a way that Buddhist texts and self-help books often suggest is possible. It is experiential. I reflect that aspect of my practice by offering my prints in lots of 365. Each one then becomes a beautiful reminder of how our days are numbered.

Where do you do most of your work?

I draw first thing every morning at my dining room table. I draw every evening sitting on my kitchen counter. When the weather and my other professional and personal responsibilities permit, I go out and draw restaurants. I finish my drawings at a temporary workspace in my dining room or at a studio I share with a more accomplished artist, though I find it hard to get there often.

What three tools of the trade can’t you live without?

My pens, my drawing pad, and my eyeglasses.

Why is the dish rack illustration, and archive, key to your daily regimen?

It’s like practicing scales for a professional musician or like running laps for a professional athlete, but on a more basic and essential level it very simply keeps me sane.

What have you found most gratifying about selling your prints in part to raise money for hunger relief organizations?

I absolutely love that I can literally create something out of thin air that feeds people. It’s like being a magician. And it’s a concrete way to express my gratitude for the opportunity to practice my gift.

Will other shows follow your debut exhibit of nine signed, limited-edition prints at the PowerHouse bookstore in Park Slope, Brooklyn earlier this year?

Absolutely, and that show in Park Slope has been extended through September 12, due to popular demand.

What led to the creation of your online store Eat Draw Repeat?

I mentioned virtuous cycles, and creating a way for people to pay for my work is the most virtuous of virtuous cycles I can imagine.

Is there a book in the works based on your current illustration project?

Yes, as of the middle of July I have a proposal circulating among editors at various publishing houses and I am engaged in a series of conversations.

How has your aesthetic/style evolved over the years?

There’s that line about 10,000 hours of practice. I think I passed that at some point and the confidence in the line shows. Just as sustaining a reader’s state of disbelief in a novel is important, so it is with an artist. It doesn’t matter so much where the line is so long as the line belongs there.

Do you have a favorite artistic resource that you turn to?

Life itself.

From where do you draw inspiration?

Everywhere around me.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

Just show up.

Is there a book or film that has changed you?

Mostly books. On the Road changed me as a college student. The Red and the Black changed me as a young adult. So did Moby Dick. It’s really a function of age. Right now, I’m trying (for the second time) to read Don Quixote. It somehow seems appropriate, and I could use a good laugh.

What drives you these days?

It’s nice to finally know what I’m supposed to do with my life, which is spread the word about how drawing can change one’s life through my restaurant drawings and daily practices. With the positive feedback loop of interest in my work coupled with the inherent joy that comes from doing it, I feel like I’ve discovered a perpetual-motion machine.