Does It Matter What It Costs?

Sarah Palin has a memoir coming out next month, Going Rogue: An American Life. You can pre-order it from Amazon for $9–the same at Walmart. Buy it at Books-a-Million for $15.65.

I very well may buy this book, but should I go for the $9 or the $15 price? Why are deep discounters able to discount some books so deeply? Should I care about paying too little for a book, or should I let the publishers figure out their stupid business models by themselves?

In related news, political pundit Bernie Quigley talks about the messages within the titles of Palin’s and Mitt Romney’s upcoming books. Romney’s book, to be released in March, is called No Apology: The Case for American Greatness. Quigley says that title focuses on the past.

“There is hubris and a kind of conspicuous arrogance to it, which he asks us to wear with our chests out. Romney’s title suggests a full endorsement of the Bush II paradigm without a moment’s introspection,” he says. “Going Rogue, however, suggests a new direction, a new adventure, something just ahead there in the great unknown. It is a very good title and speaks in essence to the frontier spirit of those who venture beyond the Hudson River or the Beltway.”

Vampires, Burial, and Death by Paul Barber

I made some comments about vampires in this space a while back, and a friend lent me a copy of Paul Barber’s Vampires, Burial, and Death: Folklore and Reality so I could have the real skinny.

I know much more now. I’m not sure I’m happier for it.

And—especially for the sake of those of you with weak stomachs—I’ll pass the gist of it on to you, so you won’t have to read this often entertaining, but generally depressing and unappetizing, book. Continue reading Vampires, Burial, and Death by Paul Barber

The Poetic Muse

Robert Roper writes, “Contemporary psychologists have unearthed strong associations between poetry and introspection, between introspection and depression, and between depression and self-destructiveness. Not all poets are depressives, but there is a statistical connection. If that child of yours is writing a poem at this moment, go into his bedroom right now and stop him!”

Ahem.

“I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;”

And if it landed in your heart,

I hope you die, you little tart.

Gasp–I’m so depressed now.

Sea-ing the grove for the trees

I meant to do a number of things this weekend, and accomplished a few of them, mostly shopping- and computer-related. But I’m only firing on a couple cylinders. Either my cold is still hanging on, or I’m in the process of succumbing to a second malady, possibly H1N1 or the King’s Evil. I hope that’s not the case, because I’d hate to cancel my appearance for the Chesterton Society in Fargo on Saturday.

I just picked up some Airborne®, which some of the Vikings recommend. Just like the Fizzies we used to enjoy when I was a kid, except less sweet and they’re supposed to be good for you.

Again I spent Sunday at home (I was beginning to fear I was contagious), and I ended the day as has been my custom recently, watching one of the Inspector Lewis mysteries on PBS.

Inspector Lewis (as all Mystery aficionados know), is the former Sergeant Lewis who played sidekick for so many years to Inspector Morse in the splendid series based on Colin Dexter’s whodunits. Lewis has had an interesting character arc. In the original mystery in the series, as written in the book Last Bus to Woodstock, Inspector Morse had two sergeants assisting him. One was named Lewis, and was described as short and stocky. The other (whose name I’ve forgotten) was tall and thin. When the series was televised, the producers conflated the two sergeants and gave us a tall, thin officer named Lewis. In the books that followed, the author just rode the wave. He made Lewis the regular assistant, and never (as far as I noticed) described him again, so the reader was free to think of him as looking like Kevin Whately, who still portrays him on television.

There’s an interesting religious subtext in the new Inspector Lewis series (Dexter killed off Inspector Morse with a heart attack in The Remorseful Day in 1999). Lewis had been (though inconsistently) portrayed as a churchgoer in the Inspector Morse stories. Now we’re told that his wife has been killed in a senseless traffic accident, and that he has become an atheist. His assisting sergeant, however, is a former seminarian who still believes to some extent. The question of God’s existence intrudes regularly in the stories, as it did in this week’s episode, which involved an Oxford don who writes bestselling books, Richard Dawkins-style, about atheism.

But what struck me most in this episode was the presence of the actress Jenny Seagrove. My heart knew a nameless dread when I saw her name on the credits at the beginning. “What have the years done to Jenny?” I asked myself. “Will she be a skin-tightened, botoxed android, like so many other actresses her age?” Continue reading Sea-ing the grove for the trees

Crime in Norway

Scandinavia House, home of the The American-Scandinavian Foundation, has an author panel tonight in New York on the topic “Where Fiction and Reality Collide: Norwegian Crime Fiction Panel”. Norway is apparently one of the most peaceful countries in the world. Read any Scandinavian crime novels lately?

In completely unrelated news from Norway, the amount of heroin seized this year is already almost twice that of last year. “In 2008, 738 kilograms of drugs were seized at Norwegian borders, while the customs this year have already discovered 1500 kilograms of narcotics,” reports The Norway Post.

A Life of Prayer

Sean Michael Lucus reviews and recommends Paul Miller’s book A Praying Life, released this year.

Tim Challies also reviews the book, noting a caution about quotations from Thomas Merton. In the comments, Paul Miller responds to that concern and critics the mystics on prayer.

Book Reviews, Creative Culture