(Cross-posted in part at the Winter Reading Challenge)
The Polysyllabic Spree is a collection of essays on books and reading, written by Nick Hornby for the magazine The Believer. Hornby writes a monthly column entitled "Stuff I'm Reading." This book covers 14 months, from September 2003 through October 2004. Each month's essay begins with two lists: one, of books Mr. Hornby purchased that month, and the other, the books he read that month. (The two lists frequently do not have very much in common.) He explains why and where he bought what he bought, and why he liked or didn't like what he read.
Off in the wings, like a shadowy Greek chorus, stands what Hornby refers to as "the Polysyllabic Spree", supposedly the editors of The Believer. They number anywhere from 8 to 100, and (according to Hornby) dress in white robes, behave cultishly, and are exceedingly demanding. He, of course, often runs afoul of them and expresses continuing amazement that they keep him on.
This is very funny stuff. Hornby manages to write literary criticism that is witty and to the point, but is also self-deprecating and without an ounce of meanness. I came across this book on Powells' website a few weeks ago. It was particularly timely because our local weekly free "alternative" newspaper (although for an alternative, it's pretty damned mainstream much of the time, and leans heavily toward our own homegrown Midwestern brand of sensationalism. I've tried to quit reading it, but it has a good music/events calendar and the last time I went on the wagon Eliza Gilkyson came to town, and I missed it! But I digress. As usual ...)
Where was I/ Oh yeah. Our newspaper, The Isthmus, had an article about the local music scene by a recent arrival in town, a guy who used to write for The Rolling Stone and Cream, plus was once friends with David Bowie, and so on and so forth. (Notice how all those claims to fame are worded in the past tense? I think I know why.) His article, which wasn't really about the bands at all, but was really all about him him him, and was very mean spirited and condescending about many Madison bands.
Readers, I did an unQuakerly thing. I wrote a snide letter to the editor. I said, "In Madison, we have a saying: Those who can, do. Those who can't, write for the Isthmus." The Isthmus forwarded my letter to the writer, along with my email address. And for a couple of days, I received increasingly provocative emails from this man. He was like a certain troll who has been banned from many a progressive blog recently, the way he twisted everything I said. I responded by being conciliatory, humorous, and analytical in turn and I finally just bounced his messages back to him.
Anyway, that is all a round-about way of saying that Nick Hornby, as a literary critic, is nothing like that. I've enjoyed his fiction, and I enjoyed these essays. There is a second volume, and I will be putting it on hold at the public library, as soon as I finish the other 24 books I have on my library shelf.
And think of this: If you comment on this post, you will be writing about writing about writing about writing. Trippy.
