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"content": "\u003cp>I see a lot of galleys, but that doesn’t mean I know a lot of books. Galleys are expensive to produce and expensive to mail so only a small percentage of new books have galleys made. Their unfinished quality is why my wife hates reading galleys. She’s too good an editor to enjoy reading things that need corrections; it feels like work. Galleys come at me from a lot of places. Some are sent bulk, and come in the BookSense monthly white box, or in a publisher mailing. Some are sent specifically to me by someone at a publisher who knows what I read, or by some computer that has me on a list because of what I’ve read in the past. Some, the best, are handed me by a local publishers’ rep, people I see regularly, and talk to about books. Of course, even then I may not pay attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than one book has had to cross my desk twice before I’ve paid attention to it; one in particular comes to mind: \u003cb>Mr. Timothy\u003c/b> by Louis Bayard. Three people sent or gave me the galley before I cracked it open; it was only a phrase in a marketing note, “grimly exquisite”, that caught my eye. I loved it, and I loved the author. I sat and watched him read at a sparsely attended event in Berkeley and thought, “Every author I know should be watching this reading.” The next time a book by Bayard crossed my desk, I noticed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> is a mystery. A retired New York cop, wife dead and daughter gone, lives in the country. He’s asked out of retirement, invited to a struggling academy to investigate a horrible murder; the school needs to keep the investigation quiet or risk closure. An aid from the student body is selected to help, to be an inside ear. Plots are discovered, secrets revealed and confidences betrayed. Sounds like standard stuff until the details are filled in; the school is West Point, the year is in the 1830’s, and the student is a young cadet named Edgar Allen Poe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I see few more risky things than using a historical person as a major character in a novel. We have already formed opinions, pictures and voices in our heads. One of the reasons I like Bayard is that he gives such a real, possible voice to the characters he writes, a voice that in this case speaks poetry. Long conversations, quiet in night rooms, give Poe a chance to speak volumes, all quite authentic to how I’d imagine hearing him speak. He’s a good, believable character, one that I can reconcile with the writer I’ve read. Poe stays the cadet, never overwhelming the gravitas of the retired cop, but is compelling in his intensity and interest. I could see a case like this creating the writer of the books I’ve read since I started reading. We only know Poe from the works he left, but those works have shaped our collective culture. \u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> fits, makes sense, and keeps us reading.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> is not all voice, and the voice it has is not all Poe. Our detective is more than he seems, and the tightly crafted plot had me surprised to the end, and satisfied. I’ll be enjoying the echoes of this one for a while, and will be looking at the piles carefully for whatever Bayard does next.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\u003cb>Truck: A Love Story by Michael Perry\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Probably my favorite memoirist, Perry recounts the simultaneous resurrection of his beat up old pickup and semi-beat up self. The same great narrative voice of his earlier Population 485 returns, and I can’t wait to sell it. Due this month from William Morrow.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>I see a lot of galleys, but that doesn’t mean I know a lot of books. Galleys are expensive to produce and expensive to mail so only a small percentage of new books have galleys made. Their unfinished quality is why my wife hates reading galleys. She’s too good an editor to enjoy reading things that need corrections; it feels like work. Galleys come at me from a lot of places. Some are sent bulk, and come in the BookSense monthly white box, or in a publisher mailing. Some are sent specifically to me by someone at a publisher who knows what I read, or by some computer that has me on a list because of what I’ve read in the past. Some, the best, are handed me by a local publishers’ rep, people I see regularly, and talk to about books. Of course, even then I may not pay attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than one book has had to cross my desk twice before I’ve paid attention to it; one in particular comes to mind: \u003cb>Mr. Timothy\u003c/b> by Louis Bayard. Three people sent or gave me the galley before I cracked it open; it was only a phrase in a marketing note, “grimly exquisite”, that caught my eye. I loved it, and I loved the author. I sat and watched him read at a sparsely attended event in Berkeley and thought, “Every author I know should be watching this reading.” The next time a book by Bayard crossed my desk, I noticed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> is a mystery. A retired New York cop, wife dead and daughter gone, lives in the country. He’s asked out of retirement, invited to a struggling academy to investigate a horrible murder; the school needs to keep the investigation quiet or risk closure. An aid from the student body is selected to help, to be an inside ear. Plots are discovered, secrets revealed and confidences betrayed. Sounds like standard stuff until the details are filled in; the school is West Point, the year is in the 1830’s, and the student is a young cadet named Edgar Allen Poe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I see few more risky things than using a historical person as a major character in a novel. We have already formed opinions, pictures and voices in our heads. One of the reasons I like Bayard is that he gives such a real, possible voice to the characters he writes, a voice that in this case speaks poetry. Long conversations, quiet in night rooms, give Poe a chance to speak volumes, all quite authentic to how I’d imagine hearing him speak. He’s a good, believable character, one that I can reconcile with the writer I’ve read. Poe stays the cadet, never overwhelming the gravitas of the retired cop, but is compelling in his intensity and interest. I could see a case like this creating the writer of the books I’ve read since I started reading. We only know Poe from the works he left, but those works have shaped our collective culture. \u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> fits, makes sense, and keeps us reading.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pale Blue Eye\u003c/b> is not all voice, and the voice it has is not all Poe. Our detective is more than he seems, and the tightly crafted plot had me surprised to the end, and satisfied. I’ll be enjoying the echoes of this one for a while, and will be looking at the piles carefully for whatever Bayard does next.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>People who love Shakespeare tend to do so passionately. Ron Rosenbaum loves Shakespeare, and has brought his passion and that of many others to us in \u003cb>\u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>: Clashing Scholars, Public Fiascos, Palace Coups\u003c/b>. \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b> reviews the issues, personalities and conflicts in Shakespeare studies today, excluding the authorship question, a can of worms that doesn’t enter into what’s actually in the plays. Rosenbaum instead tries to understand and explain not the author of the plays, but what makes those plays Shakespearian, and why they bring us such joy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shakespeare is my flourless chocolate cake. I can’t eat it all the time; it’s just too rich. There are those occasions, though, where nothing else will do; where I just have to dive in and indulge myself. It’s not like the old days, when I ate more dense cake and went to Ashland every summer. I’m a little more paced with the special treats these days. Just as not everyone likes a bitter, dense cake the first time they bite in, not everyone “gets” Shakespeare at first. Making sense of Shakespeare for me took an epiphany, a moment where I could just surrender myself to the language, letting it flow over me without working too hard to understand it. Understanding would come. My personal Shakespeare epiphany came during my college days, when a son-of-an-English-teacher roommate and I watched all of the BBC Shakespeare productions thanks to our local public television station. By the time Olivier’s \u003cb>King Lear\u003c/b> rolled around I was hooked. Ron Rosenbaum had such a personal moment in Peter Brooks’ production of\u003cb> A Midsummer Night’s Dream\u003c/b>; this moment changed his life and led directly to \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The book was daunting when I first picked it up; I was unsure how much of it I would actually read. As it is, I read every word, carrying it back and forth to work for weeks and trashing my galley in the process. Galleys are cheap advance print runs and are not designed to be used and abused this way. This is a rare case where I’m actually going to have to buy a finished copy of a book I read in galley form. What was it about the book that held my interest for so long? I was afraid that everything would be too arcane and academic to be fun. But Rosenbaum personalizes the material; visiting experts anywhere he can, from donut shop to Bermuda conference, giving people that chance to speak and respond, to let their enthusiasm show. Rosenbaum doesn’t stay neutral; he is a scholar, has opinions and is not afraid to disagree.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Some of the things Rosenbaum brings to the book have actually changed the way I read and appreciate Shakespeare, in particular the reading of the lines in the plays. I am, in a sense, a child of method acting. From the first time I read one of the plays I was told to more or less ignore the lines and concentrate on making the sentences read naturally. The lines aren’t written as natural speech, though, they’re written in iambic pentameter; and end-of-line pause creates a different effect on the meaning, as does adding a heartbeat rhythm (lub-DUB) accenting every other word. I applied this to all the passages quoted in the book and was amazed at how the already slippery meanings changed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The fact that Shakespeare has many meanings is central to Rosenbaum’s book. He asserts that Shakespeare’s works can bear whatever level of reading one cares to apply, as they are virtually, as he calls it, bottomless. Rosenbaum’s choice of that specific word is one of the wonderful and recurring themes in \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>. Look and see. Look again, and see more. I believe that this is why 400 years later people still care; any interested person in any time or place can find meaning in the plays and poems we call Shakespeare’s, and find it again and again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch\u003c/b>:\u003cbr>\u003cb>Blue Arabesque\u003c/b> by Patricia Hampl\u003cbr>It only took a glance. Patricia Hampl was late for a lunch date at the Art Institute of Chicago when she saw the Matisse; she was stunned, arrested by the face gazing from the canvas. This visual epiphany led Hampl on a personal journey, one tracing the step of many artists in many fields, all heading toward the light. Not just any light, but the bright light of the Mediterranean, of the Cote d’Azure and North Africa, places that have drawn people looking to capture inspiration for centuries. The revelations in this slender volume are as dazzling as the light Hampl seeks to explain, and understand. Due in November, from Harcourt.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>People who love Shakespeare tend to do so passionately. Ron Rosenbaum loves Shakespeare, and has brought his passion and that of many others to us in \u003cb>\u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>: Clashing Scholars, Public Fiascos, Palace Coups\u003c/b>. \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b> reviews the issues, personalities and conflicts in Shakespeare studies today, excluding the authorship question, a can of worms that doesn’t enter into what’s actually in the plays. Rosenbaum instead tries to understand and explain not the author of the plays, but what makes those plays Shakespearian, and why they bring us such joy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shakespeare is my flourless chocolate cake. I can’t eat it all the time; it’s just too rich. There are those occasions, though, where nothing else will do; where I just have to dive in and indulge myself. It’s not like the old days, when I ate more dense cake and went to Ashland every summer. I’m a little more paced with the special treats these days. Just as not everyone likes a bitter, dense cake the first time they bite in, not everyone “gets” Shakespeare at first. Making sense of Shakespeare for me took an epiphany, a moment where I could just surrender myself to the language, letting it flow over me without working too hard to understand it. Understanding would come. My personal Shakespeare epiphany came during my college days, when a son-of-an-English-teacher roommate and I watched all of the BBC Shakespeare productions thanks to our local public television station. By the time Olivier’s \u003cb>King Lear\u003c/b> rolled around I was hooked. Ron Rosenbaum had such a personal moment in Peter Brooks’ production of\u003cb> A Midsummer Night’s Dream\u003c/b>; this moment changed his life and led directly to \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The book was daunting when I first picked it up; I was unsure how much of it I would actually read. As it is, I read every word, carrying it back and forth to work for weeks and trashing my galley in the process. Galleys are cheap advance print runs and are not designed to be used and abused this way. This is a rare case where I’m actually going to have to buy a finished copy of a book I read in galley form. What was it about the book that held my interest for so long? I was afraid that everything would be too arcane and academic to be fun. But Rosenbaum personalizes the material; visiting experts anywhere he can, from donut shop to Bermuda conference, giving people that chance to speak and respond, to let their enthusiasm show. Rosenbaum doesn’t stay neutral; he is a scholar, has opinions and is not afraid to disagree.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Some of the things Rosenbaum brings to the book have actually changed the way I read and appreciate Shakespeare, in particular the reading of the lines in the plays. I am, in a sense, a child of method acting. From the first time I read one of the plays I was told to more or less ignore the lines and concentrate on making the sentences read naturally. The lines aren’t written as natural speech, though, they’re written in iambic pentameter; and end-of-line pause creates a different effect on the meaning, as does adding a heartbeat rhythm (lub-DUB) accenting every other word. I applied this to all the passages quoted in the book and was amazed at how the already slippery meanings changed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The fact that Shakespeare has many meanings is central to Rosenbaum’s book. He asserts that Shakespeare’s works can bear whatever level of reading one cares to apply, as they are virtually, as he calls it, bottomless. Rosenbaum’s choice of that specific word is one of the wonderful and recurring themes in \u003cb>The Shakespeare Wars\u003c/b>. Look and see. Look again, and see more. I believe that this is why 400 years later people still care; any interested person in any time or place can find meaning in the plays and poems we call Shakespeare’s, and find it again and again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>When I think of San Diego I picture it as I saw it when visiting while young: bright sun, tall palms and the bright ocean rolling implacably off to the west. I never saw it as a navy town, despite the obvious presence of all those big ships and guys in white uniforms. I was too busy using it as a border town, a crossing point to Mexico and Baja and the cheap booze and seafood and fireworks and beaches that were my real goal. It never occurred to me that a navy town and a border town could be a corrupt town. As I said, I was young.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s hard to ignore the corruption of California’s southernmost county now, all you have to do is turn on the news. Congressmen resign in disgrace, and industrialists and financiers tremble as webs of kickbacks and schemes become public. It could be DC if it weren’t for the weather. I didn’t get my knowledge of the crooked south from the news though; I got it from a couple of really good Southern California writers, T. Jefferson Parker and Don Winslow. Winslow has a new book on the shelves, \u003cb>The Winter of Frankie Machine\u003c/b>, with a couple of my favorite literary themes — the beach and hit men. It’s a combination I don’t see often enough, although I have high hopes for the latest Anthony Bourdain, who, like me, thinks about killers in flip flops.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Frankie Machianno has a good life. He has a girlfriend he loves, an ex-wife that doesn’t drive him too crazy, and a daughter bound for medical school. He’s a well-liked guy on the pier, dispensing bait and good advice from his shop. He’s busy, with a real estate side business and season tickets to the opera and an ex who likes to put the wrong things down the garbage disposal. Frankie makes time to surf though, grabbing his board for Gentlemen’s Hour, or the Geezer Hour depending on what side of the invisible age line you stand — or surf — on. It’s hard being Frankie, but good, too.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What Frankie doesn’t advertise is his past, because Frankie Machianno used to be known as Frankie Machine, an unstoppable hit man for the local mob. All this was behind him; he’d quit that life years ago. He wasn’t happy when his past returned to ask him for a favor, a little babysitting job, but he did it. Family ties like that are hard to break. What did surprise him is that it was a setup. The body count rises quickly as Frankie tries to settle his problem without alerting authorities that would have liked him to stay retired. Bodies attract authorities, though, and soon enough Frankie is running from everyone.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winslow writes a tight, exciting novel, with twists and turns wrapped up in a mantel of reality that comes from his knowledge of local history and his own career as an investigator. He’s good at lifting up rocks and telling the stories of what crawls out. He doesn’t telegraph the ending and his surprises aren’t forced. His characters are not caricatures, but are sympathetic and human and flawed and most of all believable. I never thought the mafia might be in San Diego, but then I’ve been accused of being naive before. I buy the marketing, Winslow doesn’t. The San Diego Chamber of Commerce and Don Winslow both have stories to tell. I’m guessing \u003cb>The Winter of Frankie Machine\u003c/b> is a more accurate picture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\u003cb>The Weight of Numbers\u003c/b> by Simon Ings\u003cbr>Threads of coincidence and history weave all over the world, connecting African revolutions, London philosophical societies, and the glittery-fake world of celebrity and art. Choice and belief are far more slippery concepts than we think, and random and inevitable two sides of a coin in this smart and compelling novel. Due in January from Grove Atlantic.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>When I think of San Diego I picture it as I saw it when visiting while young: bright sun, tall palms and the bright ocean rolling implacably off to the west. I never saw it as a navy town, despite the obvious presence of all those big ships and guys in white uniforms. I was too busy using it as a border town, a crossing point to Mexico and Baja and the cheap booze and seafood and fireworks and beaches that were my real goal. It never occurred to me that a navy town and a border town could be a corrupt town. As I said, I was young.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s hard to ignore the corruption of California’s southernmost county now, all you have to do is turn on the news. Congressmen resign in disgrace, and industrialists and financiers tremble as webs of kickbacks and schemes become public. It could be DC if it weren’t for the weather. I didn’t get my knowledge of the crooked south from the news though; I got it from a couple of really good Southern California writers, T. Jefferson Parker and Don Winslow. Winslow has a new book on the shelves, \u003cb>The Winter of Frankie Machine\u003c/b>, with a couple of my favorite literary themes — the beach and hit men. It’s a combination I don’t see often enough, although I have high hopes for the latest Anthony Bourdain, who, like me, thinks about killers in flip flops.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Frankie Machianno has a good life. He has a girlfriend he loves, an ex-wife that doesn’t drive him too crazy, and a daughter bound for medical school. He’s a well-liked guy on the pier, dispensing bait and good advice from his shop. He’s busy, with a real estate side business and season tickets to the opera and an ex who likes to put the wrong things down the garbage disposal. Frankie makes time to surf though, grabbing his board for Gentlemen’s Hour, or the Geezer Hour depending on what side of the invisible age line you stand — or surf — on. It’s hard being Frankie, but good, too.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What Frankie doesn’t advertise is his past, because Frankie Machianno used to be known as Frankie Machine, an unstoppable hit man for the local mob. All this was behind him; he’d quit that life years ago. He wasn’t happy when his past returned to ask him for a favor, a little babysitting job, but he did it. Family ties like that are hard to break. What did surprise him is that it was a setup. The body count rises quickly as Frankie tries to settle his problem without alerting authorities that would have liked him to stay retired. Bodies attract authorities, though, and soon enough Frankie is running from everyone.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winslow writes a tight, exciting novel, with twists and turns wrapped up in a mantel of reality that comes from his knowledge of local history and his own career as an investigator. He’s good at lifting up rocks and telling the stories of what crawls out. He doesn’t telegraph the ending and his surprises aren’t forced. His characters are not caricatures, but are sympathetic and human and flawed and most of all believable. I never thought the mafia might be in San Diego, but then I’ve been accused of being naive before. I buy the marketing, Winslow doesn’t. The San Diego Chamber of Commerce and Don Winslow both have stories to tell. I’m guessing \u003cb>The Winter of Frankie Machine\u003c/b> is a more accurate picture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\u003cb>The Weight of Numbers\u003c/b> by Simon Ings\u003cbr>Threads of coincidence and history weave all over the world, connecting African revolutions, London philosophical societies, and the glittery-fake world of celebrity and art. Choice and belief are far more slippery concepts than we think, and random and inevitable two sides of a coin in this smart and compelling novel. Due in January from Grove Atlantic.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp> I know every gray cloud comes with a silver lining, but what about the big white cotton ball clouds — those poofs of meteorological perfection bouncing rays of sunshine off their creamy dollops of contentment? Do you think they have any bad parts? And come to mention it, have you ever stopped to notice how the most amazing little weeds sprout between the cracks in the pavement? Okay, I gave it away. I’m in love. Issue 3 of \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> came out this month, and well…I’m all gushy ‘n’ stuff.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> is the latest in the line of comic book spin-offs inspired by Bay Area writer Michael Chabon’s \u003cb>The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b>. Very basically, the story follows Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay as they create a successful comic book character, The Escapist, who saves the day thwarting crime in the 1940’s. Since this beautiful novel landed on the scene, many modern day comics artists and writers have taken up this fictional world and published the Escapists books they think Kavalier & Clay would have created.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The result has yielded a stack of comics with fake 1940’s publication dates (including bylines for Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay), creating a REAL collection of this fictional title. Being a huge fan of the novel, I was excited to see The Escapist come to life, but the problem was that the character’s premise was never really that dynamic. There is a nice nostalgic camp to The Escapist’s exploits, fighting Nazis, infiltrating secret societies and tangling with beguiling, but it is a solidly one-dimensional pull. Beyond just wanting to spend a little more time in the \u003cb>Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> world, there was little modern pizzazz to these Escapist incarnations.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For me, the longing pause I give to my tattered copy of \u003cb>Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> whenever I pass it in my bookcase isn’t because I wish I could pick up a copy of a fictional comic — it’s because I deeply miss spending time with Joe and Sam, the fictional creators of that comic. Therein lies the thrill of the new \u003cb>Escapists\u003c/b> — it acknowledges the glossy appeal of its crime-fighting superhero namesake, while elevating the meaning of the character back up to the delicious metaphor for creativity that it was meant to be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Basically, \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> is set in the modern day, with the conceit that Kavalier and Clay actually existed, and so did their comics handiwork. 20-something outsider Maxwell Roth finds himself orphaned in Issue 1, while also discovering that his late father was a rabid fan of the now-forgotten Escapist hero. Max then uses his inheritance to purchase the rights to the character, blow the dust off the idea, and enlist a team of writers and illustrators to help him revamp and renew the title. His partners are Case Weaver, an illustrator with moxie and talent to burn, and Denny Jones, a beefy jock with a knack for lettering and sticking up for his gawky pal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Following all of this comics-within-a-comic metafiction business? Good. Believe me, it’s worth it. Writer Brian K. Vaughan (he’s real, by the way), imbues his characters with snappy dialogue and sincere motivations that keep the story exciting and relatable. In Issue 2, the gang deploys guerilla marketing to get the word out for their broke enterprise by outfitting the strapping Denny in an Escapist suit and staging random publicity stunts. Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned, including when the coveted first review turns out to be negative. There’s a romance element building between Max and Case, and the coming of yet more use of our postmodern prefix when metaphysical coincidences start to take place whenever Denny puts on the Escapist suit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And all this conceptual derring do doesn’t stop with the art, either. The comic volleys between two distinct visual styles to tell the story — the cartoony, modern polish used to depict Max’s life, and the edgy, painterly pages inserted from Max’s comic. Steve Rolston (real, too) draws the traditional narrative in Issues 2 and 3, and his casual yet complete style, and knack for impactful facial expressions fits perfectly with the idea of a group of young idealists working together on a labor of love. Jason S. Alexander (real person) contributes the pages ostensibly drawn by the fictional Case Weaver. Alexander’s style is dark, raw, and sketchy — the perfect contrast to Rolston’s rounded figures and pop colors. The attitude expressed by Alexander is a seamless extension of Case’s sass and impulsiveness. Better yet, the new \u003cb>Escapists\u003c/b> seems to have learned from the mistakes of earlier adaptations, and provides a clever device for jazzing up its depiction of The Escapist in action with more than musty superhero shtick.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> truly tapped into the imaginations of its readers — inspiring everything from faux-historical research, loving tributes from comics’ heavyweights, and even a subplot on \u003cb>The O.C.\u003c/b>. But no spin-off has captured the excitement and emotion of the novel more fully, and with more dazzling craft than \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b>, Seth Cohen’s dimpled wisecracks notwithstanding. Reframing the adaptation to focus again on the creators, rather than their creation, brings back the dewy charm of following likeable characters as they struggle towards a goal. Like the 600-plus page tome from whence they came, I could just go on and on about these books, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop there. You see, I have a hot date with Issue 4 coming up, and gee whiz, I think it could be serious.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp> I know every gray cloud comes with a silver lining, but what about the big white cotton ball clouds — those poofs of meteorological perfection bouncing rays of sunshine off their creamy dollops of contentment? Do you think they have any bad parts? And come to mention it, have you ever stopped to notice how the most amazing little weeds sprout between the cracks in the pavement? Okay, I gave it away. I’m in love. Issue 3 of \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> came out this month, and well…I’m all gushy ‘n’ stuff.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> is the latest in the line of comic book spin-offs inspired by Bay Area writer Michael Chabon’s \u003cb>The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b>. Very basically, the story follows Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay as they create a successful comic book character, The Escapist, who saves the day thwarting crime in the 1940’s. Since this beautiful novel landed on the scene, many modern day comics artists and writers have taken up this fictional world and published the Escapists books they think Kavalier & Clay would have created.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The result has yielded a stack of comics with fake 1940’s publication dates (including bylines for Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay), creating a REAL collection of this fictional title. Being a huge fan of the novel, I was excited to see The Escapist come to life, but the problem was that the character’s premise was never really that dynamic. There is a nice nostalgic camp to The Escapist’s exploits, fighting Nazis, infiltrating secret societies and tangling with beguiling, but it is a solidly one-dimensional pull. Beyond just wanting to spend a little more time in the \u003cb>Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> world, there was little modern pizzazz to these Escapist incarnations.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For me, the longing pause I give to my tattered copy of \u003cb>Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> whenever I pass it in my bookcase isn’t because I wish I could pick up a copy of a fictional comic — it’s because I deeply miss spending time with Joe and Sam, the fictional creators of that comic. Therein lies the thrill of the new \u003cb>Escapists\u003c/b> — it acknowledges the glossy appeal of its crime-fighting superhero namesake, while elevating the meaning of the character back up to the delicious metaphor for creativity that it was meant to be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Basically, \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b> is set in the modern day, with the conceit that Kavalier and Clay actually existed, and so did their comics handiwork. 20-something outsider Maxwell Roth finds himself orphaned in Issue 1, while also discovering that his late father was a rabid fan of the now-forgotten Escapist hero. Max then uses his inheritance to purchase the rights to the character, blow the dust off the idea, and enlist a team of writers and illustrators to help him revamp and renew the title. His partners are Case Weaver, an illustrator with moxie and talent to burn, and Denny Jones, a beefy jock with a knack for lettering and sticking up for his gawky pal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Following all of this comics-within-a-comic metafiction business? Good. Believe me, it’s worth it. Writer Brian K. Vaughan (he’s real, by the way), imbues his characters with snappy dialogue and sincere motivations that keep the story exciting and relatable. In Issue 2, the gang deploys guerilla marketing to get the word out for their broke enterprise by outfitting the strapping Denny in an Escapist suit and staging random publicity stunts. Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned, including when the coveted first review turns out to be negative. There’s a romance element building between Max and Case, and the coming of yet more use of our postmodern prefix when metaphysical coincidences start to take place whenever Denny puts on the Escapist suit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And all this conceptual derring do doesn’t stop with the art, either. The comic volleys between two distinct visual styles to tell the story — the cartoony, modern polish used to depict Max’s life, and the edgy, painterly pages inserted from Max’s comic. Steve Rolston (real, too) draws the traditional narrative in Issues 2 and 3, and his casual yet complete style, and knack for impactful facial expressions fits perfectly with the idea of a group of young idealists working together on a labor of love. Jason S. Alexander (real person) contributes the pages ostensibly drawn by the fictional Case Weaver. Alexander’s style is dark, raw, and sketchy — the perfect contrast to Rolston’s rounded figures and pop colors. The attitude expressed by Alexander is a seamless extension of Case’s sass and impulsiveness. Better yet, the new \u003cb>Escapists\u003c/b> seems to have learned from the mistakes of earlier adaptations, and provides a clever device for jazzing up its depiction of The Escapist in action with more than musty superhero shtick.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay\u003c/b> truly tapped into the imaginations of its readers — inspiring everything from faux-historical research, loving tributes from comics’ heavyweights, and even a subplot on \u003cb>The O.C.\u003c/b>. But no spin-off has captured the excitement and emotion of the novel more fully, and with more dazzling craft than \u003cb>The Escapists\u003c/b>, Seth Cohen’s dimpled wisecracks notwithstanding. Reframing the adaptation to focus again on the creators, rather than their creation, brings back the dewy charm of following likeable characters as they struggle towards a goal. Like the 600-plus page tome from whence they came, I could just go on and on about these books, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop there. You see, I have a hot date with Issue 4 coming up, and gee whiz, I think it could be serious.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Winkie is a desperate criminal, on trial for terrorism and related offenses, in prison reliving the life that brought him to this point. Clifford Chase’s \u003cb>Winkie\u003c/b> is also a tale about a bear; a small stuffed bear once owned by a character named, coincidentally enough, Clifford Chase. Winkie leads a pretty satisfying life for a stuffed bear. Loved in turn by generations of Chases, he doesn’t mind so much the time in between children, time spent waiting quietly on a shelf watching the days go by. Winkie doesn’t really even notice the day he changed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What does Winkie do that is so different? He waits and watches a long time, long enough to get bored and curious. Winkie becomes a stuffed bear that moves. He moves well enough to leave his shelf, then leave his home, the Chase’s home, and strike out on his own. He even, in a weird kind of ursine parthenogenesis, manages to have a child, one with whom he lives a happy life in the forest. This idyll is interrupted when a hermit living in a small hut notices them, desires the cub, and takes it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winkie doesn’t react well to this; no parent would. Turn the page and Winkie is living in the hut alone, the cub dead, the old man buried in the forest. The next thing he knows he’s surrounded by lights and guns and arrested for the old man’s crimes. Still mourning, Winkie drifts through his imprisonment and trial, always polite, always friendly. Winkie wonders why no one will realize that he’s a small stuffed bear, with no fingers to build the bombs he’s accused of sending.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The prosecution in Winkie’s trial is a parade of every major historical thinker, except perhaps Kafka. His lawyer is earnest but ineffective. Any defense his lawyer attempts to mount is over-ruled by the judge, a man who brooks no nonsense and doesn’t care much for terrorists. His outside supporters are few and fringe. Once again, it seems that Common Sense is pretty terrible and Good Sense rare indeed. It’s hard to see how such a bear could come to this point and harder to see how he can escape it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Political satire isn’t hard to come by these days; there’s a lot of ammunition just lying around on the ground waiting to be picked up and used, and some very talented people take on the task. The only question is what form should it take in the end? A gentle parable seems just right to me now. I feel bludgeoned by the lack of subtleness in the daily news, and the amazing amount of Common Sense that surrounds us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch:\u003c/b> Harry Shearer is my absolute favorite actor to appear in \u003cb>The Simpsons\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Spinal Tap\u003c/b>; he is also a pretty darn good writer. \u003cb>Not Enough Indians\u003c/b> is a story about a small, failing town, one desperate enough to do anything to get some business. The anything this town chooses is tribal gambling; the fact that no one in the area belongs to a tribe, or is even Native American, does not appear to matter. \u003cb>Not Enough Indians\u003c/b> is political and social satire about people just like us, people trying to make a living and good decisions and stay one step ahead of Murphy. Due in October from Justin Charles & Co.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Winkie is a desperate criminal, on trial for terrorism and related offenses, in prison reliving the life that brought him to this point. Clifford Chase’s \u003cb>Winkie\u003c/b> is also a tale about a bear; a small stuffed bear once owned by a character named, coincidentally enough, Clifford Chase. Winkie leads a pretty satisfying life for a stuffed bear. Loved in turn by generations of Chases, he doesn’t mind so much the time in between children, time spent waiting quietly on a shelf watching the days go by. Winkie doesn’t really even notice the day he changed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What does Winkie do that is so different? He waits and watches a long time, long enough to get bored and curious. Winkie becomes a stuffed bear that moves. He moves well enough to leave his shelf, then leave his home, the Chase’s home, and strike out on his own. He even, in a weird kind of ursine parthenogenesis, manages to have a child, one with whom he lives a happy life in the forest. This idyll is interrupted when a hermit living in a small hut notices them, desires the cub, and takes it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winkie doesn’t react well to this; no parent would. Turn the page and Winkie is living in the hut alone, the cub dead, the old man buried in the forest. The next thing he knows he’s surrounded by lights and guns and arrested for the old man’s crimes. Still mourning, Winkie drifts through his imprisonment and trial, always polite, always friendly. Winkie wonders why no one will realize that he’s a small stuffed bear, with no fingers to build the bombs he’s accused of sending.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The prosecution in Winkie’s trial is a parade of every major historical thinker, except perhaps Kafka. His lawyer is earnest but ineffective. Any defense his lawyer attempts to mount is over-ruled by the judge, a man who brooks no nonsense and doesn’t care much for terrorists. His outside supporters are few and fringe. Once again, it seems that Common Sense is pretty terrible and Good Sense rare indeed. It’s hard to see how such a bear could come to this point and harder to see how he can escape it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Political satire isn’t hard to come by these days; there’s a lot of ammunition just lying around on the ground waiting to be picked up and used, and some very talented people take on the task. The only question is what form should it take in the end? A gentle parable seems just right to me now. I feel bludgeoned by the lack of subtleness in the daily news, and the amazing amount of Common Sense that surrounds us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Galley Slave Galley Watch:\u003c/b> Harry Shearer is my absolute favorite actor to appear in \u003cb>The Simpsons\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Spinal Tap\u003c/b>; he is also a pretty darn good writer. \u003cb>Not Enough Indians\u003c/b> is a story about a small, failing town, one desperate enough to do anything to get some business. The anything this town chooses is tribal gambling; the fact that no one in the area belongs to a tribe, or is even Native American, does not appear to matter. \u003cb>Not Enough Indians\u003c/b> is political and social satire about people just like us, people trying to make a living and good decisions and stay one step ahead of Murphy. Due in October from Justin Charles & Co.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>I know, I know. It’s beautiful outside, there’s news on the radio, and my library of CDs is just waiting to be played. But I can’t put down Amy Hempel’s \u003cb>The Collected Stories\u003c/b>, nor do I want to. Amy Hempel is known as a miniaturist because her stories run, generally, four to eight pages. They fall into that category of fiction some call short-shorts and others, prose poems. Hempel’s own term, “lyric surge,” is probably more accurate. Her stories consist of a succession of sentences so impeccably crafted, the craft doesn’t call attention to itself — for this reason, I too often find myself stopping to try and figure out how on earth she does what she does. This is slow reading. A typical Hempel piece begins as a meditation. And just when we get comfortable with the subject, she introduces an element of dread, usually in the form of an off-color comment or brush with disaster or disturbing image. Then, once dread has made its brief appearance, she removes it and for the last page or two the reader realizes a deeper understanding of the entire meditation. The last page or two are revelatory.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In many of these pieces the climax (or height of dread) comes earlier than usual, somewhere closer to the middle, and the plots, when paraphrased, might not sound very interesting, though the reading itself is fascinating. So for instance, in “The Rest of God” a group of suburban neighbors spend a summer vacation at the beach, and “Nothing clever [is] said.” On a glorious day while one of the wives, Fay, swims in the ocean with her children, the family is caught in a circular current. Luckily a male neighbor spots the trouble, throws the swimmers a rope, and rescues them. This close call, the narrator points out, would never have happened if the beach had been closed for a sewage leak (a “black surge”). But, she says, though a black surge DID roll in to the beach that summer, it arrived one day too late to prevent Fay’s close call.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Later that same evening, the neighbors celebrate Fay’s fortune by holding a barbecue on the beach, all the while indulging in the kinds of corny one-liners one might expect to hear from suburbanites who are tipsy in the presence of their children. Dusk turns to dark, and Fay discovers that the water is phosphorescent. Everyone watches her frolic in the glowing ocean, and then the phosphorescence disappears. The story ends when the narrator explains that the rest of the summer “passed quietly, the only pain was inflicted by bees.” The vacationers knew a homemade remedy for stings whose ingredients could be found “in [their] own backyard[s].” This ending left me pondering the black surge for hours.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than a few of Hempel’s stories are structurally innovative, such as “And Lead Us Not Into Penn Station,” which is a list of anecdotes, each told with the rhythm of a joke uttered by a good standup comic. Such as this one: “Today, when a blind man walked into the bank, we handed him up to the front of the line where he ordered a BLT.” Most of these anecdotes feature one character misinterpreting another in a striking (and sometimes distastefully ironic) way. Hempel ends this piece by having her narrator explain that all these “things add up to enough weight to wear a person down. I,” she writes, “am wearing down.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And finally, some stories have a more traditional structure, such as “At the Gates of the Animal Kingdom.” This one begins at the birthday party of a black cat named Gully, who’s squinting while flash cubes pop around her. Note that at the party, Gully is served cake. We learn that the cat belongs to Mrs. Carlin, an eccentric babysitter who — though this is never directly stated — no longer seems to have a husband. Mrs. Carlin is watching two boys, Pierson and Bret, while their parents are away at a business conference. When she serves them tofu patties, the boys discover that Mrs. Carlin is a vegetarian. She reminisces about her elderly dachshund while the boys grudgingly chew their tofu burgers. Suddenly, though, Mrs. Carlin is distracted by a disturbing thought about wolves being shot from airplanes. She excuses herself, goes to her room, and swallows two aspirin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day Mrs. Carlin takes Pierson and Bret to visit the aquarium. The day after that she tries to bond with Bret by having him brush her dachsund, but because she’s overly-sentimental on the subject of pets, Bret responds to her sentiment with cruel laughter. Then, when the boys are safely in school, Mrs. Carlin returns to the aquarium. All the while she finds herself preoccupied by what turn out to be voices and visions — narrated scenes of animals being tortured and slaughtered by people. Her final vision is much too frightening to spoil by giving it away, but here’s the end of it, and I’ll give you one detail — it’s set at a picnic : “There is an indescribable sound from the choking dog, and like a person who suffers the pain of an injured twin, Mrs. Carlin gasps and drops to the floor.” The floor, here, is in the “roundabout” room, or a room with a donut-shaped tank in which the viewer stands in the “hole” of the donut, watching the fish stream by. A passing couple discovers Mrs. Carlin there. They check her pulse, call for a guard, and in the final paragraph — which consists of one sentence — comes the revelation, which I simply can’t tell you (Please, if you choose to read only one Amy Hempel story, make it this one! It’s short, so it won’t take much time!).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hempel’s world is an uneasy place where characters wait for real disaster to strike and their main way of coping is repression. She claims that her stories are about recovery and while I believe this is true, it’s clear that recovery is not a place where one is left unaffected by dread. I suppose dread is a sign of these times, and in these times its representatives (such as Hempel’s earthquakes and airplanes and crashes) come to us loaded with all kinds of baggage. It’s odd that we’d want to read anything that reminds us of this. Unless there’s some solace in reading a thing that captures what we collectively feel; maybe there’s community in that. Or maybe it’s just that when anxiety is remade as great art, we feel that it’s somehow been mastered for us.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>I know, I know. It’s beautiful outside, there’s news on the radio, and my library of CDs is just waiting to be played. But I can’t put down Amy Hempel’s \u003cb>The Collected Stories\u003c/b>, nor do I want to. Amy Hempel is known as a miniaturist because her stories run, generally, four to eight pages. They fall into that category of fiction some call short-shorts and others, prose poems. Hempel’s own term, “lyric surge,” is probably more accurate. Her stories consist of a succession of sentences so impeccably crafted, the craft doesn’t call attention to itself — for this reason, I too often find myself stopping to try and figure out how on earth she does what she does. This is slow reading. A typical Hempel piece begins as a meditation. And just when we get comfortable with the subject, she introduces an element of dread, usually in the form of an off-color comment or brush with disaster or disturbing image. Then, once dread has made its brief appearance, she removes it and for the last page or two the reader realizes a deeper understanding of the entire meditation. The last page or two are revelatory.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In many of these pieces the climax (or height of dread) comes earlier than usual, somewhere closer to the middle, and the plots, when paraphrased, might not sound very interesting, though the reading itself is fascinating. So for instance, in “The Rest of God” a group of suburban neighbors spend a summer vacation at the beach, and “Nothing clever [is] said.” On a glorious day while one of the wives, Fay, swims in the ocean with her children, the family is caught in a circular current. Luckily a male neighbor spots the trouble, throws the swimmers a rope, and rescues them. This close call, the narrator points out, would never have happened if the beach had been closed for a sewage leak (a “black surge”). But, she says, though a black surge DID roll in to the beach that summer, it arrived one day too late to prevent Fay’s close call.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Later that same evening, the neighbors celebrate Fay’s fortune by holding a barbecue on the beach, all the while indulging in the kinds of corny one-liners one might expect to hear from suburbanites who are tipsy in the presence of their children. Dusk turns to dark, and Fay discovers that the water is phosphorescent. Everyone watches her frolic in the glowing ocean, and then the phosphorescence disappears. The story ends when the narrator explains that the rest of the summer “passed quietly, the only pain was inflicted by bees.” The vacationers knew a homemade remedy for stings whose ingredients could be found “in [their] own backyard[s].” This ending left me pondering the black surge for hours.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>More than a few of Hempel’s stories are structurally innovative, such as “And Lead Us Not Into Penn Station,” which is a list of anecdotes, each told with the rhythm of a joke uttered by a good standup comic. Such as this one: “Today, when a blind man walked into the bank, we handed him up to the front of the line where he ordered a BLT.” Most of these anecdotes feature one character misinterpreting another in a striking (and sometimes distastefully ironic) way. Hempel ends this piece by having her narrator explain that all these “things add up to enough weight to wear a person down. I,” she writes, “am wearing down.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And finally, some stories have a more traditional structure, such as “At the Gates of the Animal Kingdom.” This one begins at the birthday party of a black cat named Gully, who’s squinting while flash cubes pop around her. Note that at the party, Gully is served cake. We learn that the cat belongs to Mrs. Carlin, an eccentric babysitter who — though this is never directly stated — no longer seems to have a husband. Mrs. Carlin is watching two boys, Pierson and Bret, while their parents are away at a business conference. When she serves them tofu patties, the boys discover that Mrs. Carlin is a vegetarian. She reminisces about her elderly dachshund while the boys grudgingly chew their tofu burgers. Suddenly, though, Mrs. Carlin is distracted by a disturbing thought about wolves being shot from airplanes. She excuses herself, goes to her room, and swallows two aspirin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day Mrs. Carlin takes Pierson and Bret to visit the aquarium. The day after that she tries to bond with Bret by having him brush her dachsund, but because she’s overly-sentimental on the subject of pets, Bret responds to her sentiment with cruel laughter. Then, when the boys are safely in school, Mrs. Carlin returns to the aquarium. All the while she finds herself preoccupied by what turn out to be voices and visions — narrated scenes of animals being tortured and slaughtered by people. Her final vision is much too frightening to spoil by giving it away, but here’s the end of it, and I’ll give you one detail — it’s set at a picnic : “There is an indescribable sound from the choking dog, and like a person who suffers the pain of an injured twin, Mrs. Carlin gasps and drops to the floor.” The floor, here, is in the “roundabout” room, or a room with a donut-shaped tank in which the viewer stands in the “hole” of the donut, watching the fish stream by. A passing couple discovers Mrs. Carlin there. They check her pulse, call for a guard, and in the final paragraph — which consists of one sentence — comes the revelation, which I simply can’t tell you (Please, if you choose to read only one Amy Hempel story, make it this one! It’s short, so it won’t take much time!).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hempel’s world is an uneasy place where characters wait for real disaster to strike and their main way of coping is repression. She claims that her stories are about recovery and while I believe this is true, it’s clear that recovery is not a place where one is left unaffected by dread. I suppose dread is a sign of these times, and in these times its representatives (such as Hempel’s earthquakes and airplanes and crashes) come to us loaded with all kinds of baggage. It’s odd that we’d want to read anything that reminds us of this. Unless there’s some solace in reading a thing that captures what we collectively feel; maybe there’s community in that. Or maybe it’s just that when anxiety is remade as great art, we feel that it’s somehow been mastered for us.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Rose and Isabel",
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"content": "\u003cp>Indie comics seem to revel in their outsider status. Unwieldy tales of social misanthropes without that accessible radioactive spider-bite, edgy depictions of taboos in all their Crumb-esque glory, and delicately spun interpersonal dramas all earn a special merit badge of obscurity in the scene. Mix that with a penchant for tales of squirmy social awkwardness and heroes more likely to loiter around their personal suburban hells than cascade from any skyscrapers and you have the beauty of indie comics: we get stories no advertising firm would ever touch. We get stories that would never sell Pepsi or land a theme song on Xtina’s latest album. And thank goodness for that.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even more fortuitous for the content-hungry is the arrival of \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b>, a new two-part title from Pixar artist Ted Mathot and Emeryville’s E-Ville Press. \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> takes up familiar comic book terrain with the Amazonian warrior, and adds a welcome twist with an American Civil War setting, compelling character dynamics, and a strong emotional core. Two sisters, bolstered by a mysterious magical gift, set off to find their three brothers — soldiers missing somewhere amongst the grisly battlefields of a war-torn countryside. And what’s not to like about any comic that comes with a bibliography?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mathot’s drawings are efficient and gripping. He renders with a rough, sketchy touch and deftly condenses messy emotion into raw facial expressions and nuanced gestures. Though the book is black and white, characters and settings feel absorbing and fully realized. Rose and Isabel, themselves, are so life-like across the pages that it’s easy to lose yourself completely in their saga. In every panel, we’re secure in the hands of an ace, and it is satisfying to sit back and let Mathot guide us through his finely-tuned visual world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That it is two young heroines who take the reins in that world is, admittedly, pretty exciting just at face value. Nice moments come when the child Rose defends her older male sibling from local bullies — wielding a literal big stick in pigtails and petticoats. That said, I found it hard not to wince at a few of the clumsier stabs at capturing female perspective, such as the all-powerful “women’s bond” that conveniently, transparently surfaces between Yankee Isabel and a Confederate woman, or the extensive prologue detailing Amazonian legend in a labored attempt to establish that, gee whiz, women can fight. It is difficult for any writer to portray the opposite sex, let alone within the confines of panels and word bubbles, but the best I’ve seen still remains Daniel Clowes’s eerily accurate Enid and Rebecca in \u003cb>Ghost World\u003c/b>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yes, insert “comics is a male-dominated field” observation here, but the main reason these gender portrayal shortcomings are so glaring is that the characterization in \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> is otherwise so tender and absorbing. Above gripes aside, Mathot did imbue his antebellum Amazons with a realistic back-story that explores the duo’s conflicted relationship with their martial skills, and both sisters have a unique and affecting take.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since Mathot’s story is so refreshing for its scope, historical research, and originality, I left the books wishing for more. \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> seems like its struggling to be a complex character-driven story on the one hand, while being a glossy, high-voltage slash-and-dash action comic on the other -— complete with stylish fighting scenes and an off-into-the-sunset resolution. The compellingly layered premise of the story fizzles somewhat against the lightning-fast pacing, and the promising character depth gets lost in the hasty ending and uneven narration. Mathot clearly took his time crafting these characters (he includes fascinating preliminary sketches) and all the elements for an airtight narrative arc are in place, but frustratingly underplayed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> is a great comic book, with an ambitious scope that sets a high bar for inventiveness and quality production. Still, I couldn’t help but daydream about spending more time with Mathot’s creations to fully lavish in their quirks, stunning visual presence and complexities in what would almost certainly make a fantastic movie or graphic novel. \u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Indie comics seem to revel in their outsider status. Unwieldy tales of social misanthropes without that accessible radioactive spider-bite, edgy depictions of taboos in all their Crumb-esque glory, and delicately spun interpersonal dramas all earn a special merit badge of obscurity in the scene. Mix that with a penchant for tales of squirmy social awkwardness and heroes more likely to loiter around their personal suburban hells than cascade from any skyscrapers and you have the beauty of indie comics: we get stories no advertising firm would ever touch. We get stories that would never sell Pepsi or land a theme song on Xtina’s latest album. And thank goodness for that.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even more fortuitous for the content-hungry is the arrival of \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b>, a new two-part title from Pixar artist Ted Mathot and Emeryville’s E-Ville Press. \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> takes up familiar comic book terrain with the Amazonian warrior, and adds a welcome twist with an American Civil War setting, compelling character dynamics, and a strong emotional core. Two sisters, bolstered by a mysterious magical gift, set off to find their three brothers — soldiers missing somewhere amongst the grisly battlefields of a war-torn countryside. And what’s not to like about any comic that comes with a bibliography?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mathot’s drawings are efficient and gripping. He renders with a rough, sketchy touch and deftly condenses messy emotion into raw facial expressions and nuanced gestures. Though the book is black and white, characters and settings feel absorbing and fully realized. Rose and Isabel, themselves, are so life-like across the pages that it’s easy to lose yourself completely in their saga. In every panel, we’re secure in the hands of an ace, and it is satisfying to sit back and let Mathot guide us through his finely-tuned visual world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That it is two young heroines who take the reins in that world is, admittedly, pretty exciting just at face value. Nice moments come when the child Rose defends her older male sibling from local bullies — wielding a literal big stick in pigtails and petticoats. That said, I found it hard not to wince at a few of the clumsier stabs at capturing female perspective, such as the all-powerful “women’s bond” that conveniently, transparently surfaces between Yankee Isabel and a Confederate woman, or the extensive prologue detailing Amazonian legend in a labored attempt to establish that, gee whiz, women can fight. It is difficult for any writer to portray the opposite sex, let alone within the confines of panels and word bubbles, but the best I’ve seen still remains Daniel Clowes’s eerily accurate Enid and Rebecca in \u003cb>Ghost World\u003c/b>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yes, insert “comics is a male-dominated field” observation here, but the main reason these gender portrayal shortcomings are so glaring is that the characterization in \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> is otherwise so tender and absorbing. Above gripes aside, Mathot did imbue his antebellum Amazons with a realistic back-story that explores the duo’s conflicted relationship with their martial skills, and both sisters have a unique and affecting take.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since Mathot’s story is so refreshing for its scope, historical research, and originality, I left the books wishing for more. \u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> seems like its struggling to be a complex character-driven story on the one hand, while being a glossy, high-voltage slash-and-dash action comic on the other -— complete with stylish fighting scenes and an off-into-the-sunset resolution. The compellingly layered premise of the story fizzles somewhat against the lightning-fast pacing, and the promising character depth gets lost in the hasty ending and uneven narration. Mathot clearly took his time crafting these characters (he includes fascinating preliminary sketches) and all the elements for an airtight narrative arc are in place, but frustratingly underplayed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Rose and Isabel\u003c/b> is a great comic book, with an ambitious scope that sets a high bar for inventiveness and quality production. Still, I couldn’t help but daydream about spending more time with Mathot’s creations to fully lavish in their quirks, stunning visual presence and complexities in what would almost certainly make a fantastic movie or graphic novel. \u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>There’s nothing I like better than a good city story. Cities have their own character, their own moods and atmospheres. From the New York of Mary Cantwell’s \u003cb>Manhattan When I Was Young\u003c/b> to the New Crobuzon in China Mieville’s \u003cb>Perdido Street Station\u003c/b>, city-as-character is one of the few things that can really draw me into a story. Now we have a new city story, big and dark and frequently creepy, in a place that might or might not be Victorian London.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gordon Dahlquist delivers a massive and intriguing jolt with \u003cb>The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters\u003c/b>. Three people, not complicit but also not exactly naive, are thrown together in a struggle against a complex international plot to control society through the technology of dreams and blackmail. Memories drawn from both ends of society are stored on glass plates, bound in books and re-livable by the viewer for titillation, for power, or for revenge.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The novel begins with a Lady, wronged by her fiancé, following him to a mysterious gathering at a distant country mansion. Eyes opened by the sensual and violent nature of the group she spies upon, she barely escapes her adventure alive. On the train back she shares a compartment with a Killer, returning from the same gathering. They don’t really talk, but are both charged by the other’s presence. Finally, we meet a Doctor. Attached to the diplomatic party of a prince attending the gathering, the Doctor, and minor spy, becomes involved when his charge disappears.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These characters all have names, and backgrounds; it’s not as mysterious as I may make it sound. Or, rather, it is that mysterious, and dangerous and sexy and exciting and complicated. The characters start out working alone, each with a separate goal, but quickly become a kind of team, partially because their aims are sympathetic, partially because their common enemies think they are already working together. This team-by-default struggles to find a truth hidden by iterated and recursive layers of deceit and betrayal among the plotters. It seems, in this, that the only people in the story who can work together are the ones who never planned to; betrayal needs foresight, and the heroes of this story have none. They struggle to the end just trying to keep up, not trying to finish first but just to finish standing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters\u003c/b> is, at heart, a grand adventure; a small band faces large odds, constantly reacting to whatever their very organized opponents throw at them. There are thrilling chases, near misses and an increasing level of strangeness as the book progresses. The long climb is worth it, as in a dizzying, spiraling conclusion plotters and protagonists alternate advantage, each hoping to have the final word, and the prize. At stake is the world, the prize between domination and choice and the conclusion isn’t set until the very, very end. That is as it should be; reason to turn the page, and satisfaction at the final closing of the cover.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Galley Slave Galley Watch: \u003cb>The Meaning of Night\u003c/b> by Michael Cox. Coming soon is another city story, this one of the Great Leviathan. Tormented by being wronged at birth and denied his due, Edward works the dark side of the streets of Victorian London, biding his time and gathering the evidence he need to claim his birthright. Edward believes in himself, his skills, and fate. Fate, as it turns out, also believes in Edward. Due in September, from Norton.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>There’s nothing I like better than a good city story. Cities have their own character, their own moods and atmospheres. From the New York of Mary Cantwell’s \u003cb>Manhattan When I Was Young\u003c/b> to the New Crobuzon in China Mieville’s \u003cb>Perdido Street Station\u003c/b>, city-as-character is one of the few things that can really draw me into a story. Now we have a new city story, big and dark and frequently creepy, in a place that might or might not be Victorian London.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gordon Dahlquist delivers a massive and intriguing jolt with \u003cb>The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters\u003c/b>. Three people, not complicit but also not exactly naive, are thrown together in a struggle against a complex international plot to control society through the technology of dreams and blackmail. Memories drawn from both ends of society are stored on glass plates, bound in books and re-livable by the viewer for titillation, for power, or for revenge.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The novel begins with a Lady, wronged by her fiancé, following him to a mysterious gathering at a distant country mansion. Eyes opened by the sensual and violent nature of the group she spies upon, she barely escapes her adventure alive. On the train back she shares a compartment with a Killer, returning from the same gathering. They don’t really talk, but are both charged by the other’s presence. Finally, we meet a Doctor. Attached to the diplomatic party of a prince attending the gathering, the Doctor, and minor spy, becomes involved when his charge disappears.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These characters all have names, and backgrounds; it’s not as mysterious as I may make it sound. Or, rather, it is that mysterious, and dangerous and sexy and exciting and complicated. The characters start out working alone, each with a separate goal, but quickly become a kind of team, partially because their aims are sympathetic, partially because their common enemies think they are already working together. This team-by-default struggles to find a truth hidden by iterated and recursive layers of deceit and betrayal among the plotters. It seems, in this, that the only people in the story who can work together are the ones who never planned to; betrayal needs foresight, and the heroes of this story have none. They struggle to the end just trying to keep up, not trying to finish first but just to finish standing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters\u003c/b> is, at heart, a grand adventure; a small band faces large odds, constantly reacting to whatever their very organized opponents throw at them. There are thrilling chases, near misses and an increasing level of strangeness as the book progresses. The long climb is worth it, as in a dizzying, spiraling conclusion plotters and protagonists alternate advantage, each hoping to have the final word, and the prize. At stake is the world, the prize between domination and choice and the conclusion isn’t set until the very, very end. That is as it should be; reason to turn the page, and satisfaction at the final closing of the cover.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>There has to be more to a great zine than just long hours at the local copy shop. Some are content to view them through their punk, “anything goes” roots, and figure that if it’s out there, it’s good. But I prefer to define zines by their more nuanced appeal: relating experiences with a commitment to DIY production values — you know, thin paper, the hand-drawn illustrating the handwritten, and naked staples as preferred binding. It’s in these crafty details where a lot of what makes zines worth reading becomes apparent, along with why people still choose zines over their cheaper, easier counterpart: blogs. Sometimes small runs and the main zine motivators of TLC plus a lot of free time combine to bring us titles that have one foot in the literary world, the other firmly planted in art.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enter \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b>, a beautiful letterpress zine whose most recent issue, #60, reflects on its own ten-year anniversary. For a modestly sized zine, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> always manages to pack an impressive amount of heart in its few pages. Part of this appeal comes from the fact that only 250 editions of each issue are ever produced, allowing copies to occasionally sport beautiful fabric covers, snazzy inks, and sewn binding. The zine’s handset type manages to make it even more visually endearing. Blotchy letters and shaky alignments suddenly seem relevant when they’re the result of labor-intensive printing — not just the affectation of an oh-so-quirky flea market typewriter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Plus, the writing is fantastic. In her essays, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> creator Artnoose, a.k.a. Karen Switzer, pulls off the delicate balancing act of introspective nostalgia with derring-do: an intimate conversational tone and insights that ring true despite their personal nature. Issue #60 deals with the way one’s life takes unexpected ups and downs, as viewed through the lens of swapping the plan of motherhood for a brood of bi-monthly zines. She writes with characteristic wit, “But the zine always had to come out, one way or another, and the next thing I knew ten years had gone by and I was what sociologists call S.I.N.K. — Sixty Issues, No Kids.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Within the trope of the zine, Artnoose manages to touch on everything from the death of loved ones to personal triumphs. This breadth of topic reminds me of why I like zines so much: they can literally be about anything. The only rules governing subject matter are that it matter to the author, and there’s something inspiring about that kind of sincerity. In fact, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b>‘s quiet poignancy is exactly why zines speak to one of the most overlooked truths in mainstream media: sometimes compelling information isn’t really all that, well, dazzling. Yes, we love to read fresh new exposés and matters of international importance, but people mostly function in small moments strung together with small doses of anything worth broadcasting to the masses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> #60, Artnoose goes on to describe how creating the zine has added to her life in ways she never anticipated. Though she does mention getting to meet and connect to other people through her little publication, we get the sense that she has most benefited from the way issues have chronicled and organized her life: “I went all around the country. I went to love and back, a number of times. I went to hell and back, a number of times. My zine went with me.” It’s as though, looking back, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> has formed a trail of pebbles through the woods, telling Artnoose where she’s been in order to direct her to where she’s going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>There has to be more to a great zine than just long hours at the local copy shop. Some are content to view them through their punk, “anything goes” roots, and figure that if it’s out there, it’s good. But I prefer to define zines by their more nuanced appeal: relating experiences with a commitment to DIY production values — you know, thin paper, the hand-drawn illustrating the handwritten, and naked staples as preferred binding. It’s in these crafty details where a lot of what makes zines worth reading becomes apparent, along with why people still choose zines over their cheaper, easier counterpart: blogs. Sometimes small runs and the main zine motivators of TLC plus a lot of free time combine to bring us titles that have one foot in the literary world, the other firmly planted in art.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enter \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b>, a beautiful letterpress zine whose most recent issue, #60, reflects on its own ten-year anniversary. For a modestly sized zine, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> always manages to pack an impressive amount of heart in its few pages. Part of this appeal comes from the fact that only 250 editions of each issue are ever produced, allowing copies to occasionally sport beautiful fabric covers, snazzy inks, and sewn binding. The zine’s handset type manages to make it even more visually endearing. Blotchy letters and shaky alignments suddenly seem relevant when they’re the result of labor-intensive printing — not just the affectation of an oh-so-quirky flea market typewriter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Plus, the writing is fantastic. In her essays, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> creator Artnoose, a.k.a. Karen Switzer, pulls off the delicate balancing act of introspective nostalgia with derring-do: an intimate conversational tone and insights that ring true despite their personal nature. Issue #60 deals with the way one’s life takes unexpected ups and downs, as viewed through the lens of swapping the plan of motherhood for a brood of bi-monthly zines. She writes with characteristic wit, “But the zine always had to come out, one way or another, and the next thing I knew ten years had gone by and I was what sociologists call S.I.N.K. — Sixty Issues, No Kids.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Within the trope of the zine, Artnoose manages to touch on everything from the death of loved ones to personal triumphs. This breadth of topic reminds me of why I like zines so much: they can literally be about anything. The only rules governing subject matter are that it matter to the author, and there’s something inspiring about that kind of sincerity. In fact, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b>‘s quiet poignancy is exactly why zines speak to one of the most overlooked truths in mainstream media: sometimes compelling information isn’t really all that, well, dazzling. Yes, we love to read fresh new exposés and matters of international importance, but people mostly function in small moments strung together with small doses of anything worth broadcasting to the masses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> #60, Artnoose goes on to describe how creating the zine has added to her life in ways she never anticipated. Though she does mention getting to meet and connect to other people through her little publication, we get the sense that she has most benefited from the way issues have chronicled and organized her life: “I went all around the country. I went to love and back, a number of times. I went to hell and back, a number of times. My zine went with me.” It’s as though, looking back, \u003cb>Ker-Bloom\u003c/b> has formed a trail of pebbles through the woods, telling Artnoose where she’s been in order to direct her to where she’s going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>The thing that brightens a Galley Slave’s day is the arrival of the mail, and those thick envelopes that come with it. What’s a Galley Slave you ask? Well, I’ve been a bookseller in Berkeley for 16 years and have been at the Cody’s Books on Fourth St. in Berkeley since it’s opening 9 years ago. I write a lot of blurbs, for the Cody’s newsletters and for the \u003ci>BookSense\u003c/i> monthly newsletter. All this blurbing means that I now recieve a lots of advance copies, or galleys, from different publishers. I get a secret pleasure reading things that aren’t technically in print yet, which is why I call myself a Galley Slave.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The combinations are interesting, both in what companies choose to send together and the random combinations the mail arranges. I had one of those interesting combinations a few months ago, a day where three novels about Vincent van Gogh or one of his paintings showed up in the same day’s mail. One was a thriller, pretty entertaining, about war reparations and a forged painting. One, I admit, is still sitting low in the A-pile, as yet unread because three consecutive books on van Gogh was one too many. The third was excellent, and is now on the shelves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Crows Over the Wheatfield\u003c/b> is named for one of Vincent’s last paintings. It was at the crossroads pictured in the painting that the artist killed himself. There’s death in the book, but not the same kind. The book opens with art professor Claire Andrews grinding through yet another crowded commute home, frustrated and tired, flouting the unwritten rules that govern any serious commute. It wasn’t her fault that she struck and killed a boy; he dashed out in front of her car. The rules she was gritting her teeth against wouldn’t have saved him.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Andrews is cleared of blame by the police, but the family of the child has mounted a publicity campaign against her. Her recently separated husband returns home to help with lawyers, both relieving and adding to her stress. What she really needs to do is leave, so for the sake of her sanity she returns to France to continue her work on the last days of van Gogh. What she finds there is a place long familiar to her, but as changed as her internal landscape. She looks with fresh eyes at both her relationships and Vincent’s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That’s what I liked about \u003cb>Crows Over the Wheatfield\u003c/b>, the dissonance between what Andrews remembers of France and what she now sees, and the way her own trauma affects how she sees the pivotal people in Vincent’s last days. I’m always happy with an epiphany and a real sense of place, both of which author Adam Braver provides in spades. Throw in science, forgery, manipulation and transition, and end it well, and the result is a very satisfactory read. There’s always too much to read, tottering towers of galleys and finished books around my desk, all screaming for attention. Finishing a book is sometimes the exception; racing to the end is the reward.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Galley Watch: \u003ca href=\"http://www.codysbooks.com/product/info.jsp?isbn=140004295X\" target=\"offsite\" rel=\"noopener\">Climbing the Mango Trees\u003c/a>, Madhur Jaffrey’s memoir of growing up in transitional times in India, redolent of food and crowded with family, due in October, and yummy.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"info": "A one-hour radio program to hear celebrated writers, artists and thinkers address contemporary ideas and values, often discussing the creative process. Please note: tapes or transcripts are not available",
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"airtime": "SUN 1pm-2pm, TUE 10pm, WED 1am",
"meta": {
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"source": "City Arts & Lectures"
},
"link": "https://www.cityarts.net",
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"rss": "https://www.cityarts.net/feed/"
}
},
"closealltabs": {
"id": "closealltabs",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/closealltabs",
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"order": 1
},
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"id": "code-switch-life-kit",
"title": "Code Switch / Life Kit",
"info": "\u003cem>Code Switch\u003c/em>, which listeners will hear in the first part of the hour, has fearless and much-needed conversations about race. Hosted by journalists of color, the show tackles the subject of race head-on, exploring how it impacts every part of society — from politics and pop culture to history, sports and more.\u003cbr />\u003cbr />\u003cem>Life Kit\u003c/em>, which will be in the second part of the hour, guides you through spaces and feelings no one prepares you for — from finances to mental health, from workplace microaggressions to imposter syndrome, from relationships to parenting. The show features experts with real world experience and shares their knowledge. Because everyone needs a little help being human.\u003cbr />\u003cbr />\u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/510312/codeswitch\">\u003cem>Code Switch\u003c/em> offical site and podcast\u003c/a>\u003cbr />\u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/lifekit\">\u003cem>Life Kit\u003c/em> offical site and podcast\u003c/a>\u003cbr />",
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"id": "commonwealth-club",
"title": "Commonwealth Club of California Podcast",
"info": "The Commonwealth Club of California is the nation's oldest and largest public affairs forum. As a non-partisan forum, The Club brings to the public airwaves diverse viewpoints on important topics. The Club's weekly radio broadcast - the oldest in the U.S., dating back to 1924 - is carried across the nation on public radio stations and is now podcasting. Our website archive features audio of our recent programs, as well as selected speeches from our long and distinguished history. This podcast feed is usually updated twice a week and is always un-edited.",
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"meta": {
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"source": "Commonwealth Club of California"
},
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"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cDovL3d3dy5jb21tb253ZWFsdGhjbHViLm9yZy9hdWRpby9wb2RjYXN0L3dlZWtseS54bWw",
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"title": "Forum",
"tagline": "The conversation starts here",
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"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Forum-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
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"order": 9
},
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"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkM5NTU3MzgxNjMz",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "http://freakonomics.com/",
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"meta": {
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"source": "WNYC"
},
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"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/freakonomics-radio/id354668519",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/podcasts/WNYC-Podcasts/Freakonomics-Radio-p272293/",
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},
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"id": "fresh-air",
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"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=214089682&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
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"info": "A live production of NPR and WBUR Boston, in collaboration with stations across the country, Here & Now reflects the fluid world of news as it's happening in the middle of the day, with timely, in-depth news, interviews and conversation. Hosted by Robin Young, Jeremy Hobson and Tonya Mosley.",
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"hidden-brain": {
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"info": "Shankar Vedantam uses science and storytelling to reveal the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior, shape our choices and direct our relationships.",
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"airtime": "SUN 7pm-8pm",
"meta": {
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"source": "NPR"
},
"link": "/radio/program/hidden-brain",
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"how-i-built-this": {
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"title": "How I Built This with Guy Raz",
"info": "Guy Raz dives into the stories behind some of the world's best known companies. How I Built This weaves a narrative journey about innovators, entrepreneurs and idealists—and the movements they built.",
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"airtime": "SUN 7:30pm-8pm",
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"link": "/radio/program/how-i-built-this",
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"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/how-i-built-this-with-guy-raz/id1150510297?mt=2",
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"hyphenacion": {
"id": "hyphenacion",
"title": "Hyphenación",
"tagline": "Where conversation and cultura meet",
"info": "What kind of no sabo word is Hyphenación? For us, it’s about living within a hyphenation. Like being a third-gen Mexican-American from the Texas border now living that Bay Area Chicano life. Like Xorje! Each week we bring together a couple of hyphenated Latinos to talk all about personal life choices: family, careers, relationships, belonging … everything is on the table. ",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Hyphenacion_FinalAssets_PodcastTile.png",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/hyphenacion",
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"order": 15
},
"link": "/podcasts/hyphenacion",
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"spotify": "https://open.spotify.com/show/2p3Fifq96nw9BPcmFdIq0o?si=39209f7b25774f38",
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},
"jerrybrown": {
"id": "jerrybrown",
"title": "The Political Mind of Jerry Brown",
"tagline": "Lessons from a lifetime in politics",
"info": "The Political Mind of Jerry Brown brings listeners the wisdom of the former Governor, Mayor, and presidential candidate. Scott Shafer interviewed Brown for more than 40 hours, covering the former governor's life and half-century in the political game – and Brown has some lessons he'd like to share. ",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-Political-Mind-of-Jerry-Brown-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/jerrybrown",
"meta": {
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"order": 18
},
"link": "/podcasts/jerrybrown",
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"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/id1492194549",
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},
"latino-usa": {
"id": "latino-usa",
"title": "Latino USA",
"airtime": "MON 1am-2am, SUN 6pm-7pm",
"info": "Latino USA, the radio journal of news and culture, is the only national, English-language radio program produced from a Latino perspective.",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/latinoUsa.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "http://latinousa.org/",
"meta": {
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},
"link": "/radio/program/latino-usa",
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"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?s=143441&mt=2&id=79681317&at=11l79Y&ct=nprdirectory",
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"rss": "https://feeds.npr.org/510016/podcast.xml"
}
},
"marketplace": {
"id": "marketplace",
"title": "Marketplace",
"info": "Our flagship program, helmed by Kai Ryssdal, examines what the day in money delivered, through stories, conversations, newsworthy numbers and more. Updated Monday through Friday at about 3:30 p.m. PT.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 4pm-4:30pm, MON-WED 6:30pm-7pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Marketplace-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.marketplace.org/",
"meta": {
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"source": "American Public Media"
},
"link": "/radio/program/marketplace",
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},
"masters-of-scale": {
"id": "masters-of-scale",
"title": "Masters of Scale",
"info": "Masters of Scale is an original podcast in which LinkedIn co-founder and Greylock Partner Reid Hoffman sets out to describe and prove theories that explain how great entrepreneurs take their companies from zero to a gazillion in ingenious fashion.",
"airtime": "Every other Wednesday June 12 through October 16 at 8pm (repeats Thursdays at 2am)",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "https://mastersofscale.com/",
"meta": {
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"source": "WaitWhat"
},
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"rss": "https://rss.art19.com/masters-of-scale"
}
},
"mindshift": {
"id": "mindshift",
"title": "MindShift",
"tagline": "A podcast about the future of learning and how we raise our kids",
"info": "The MindShift podcast explores the innovations in education that are shaping how kids learn. Hosts Ki Sung and Katrina Schwartz introduce listeners to educators, researchers, parents and students who are developing effective ways to improve how kids learn. We cover topics like how fed-up administrators are developing surprising tactics to deal with classroom disruptions; how listening to podcasts are helping kids develop reading skills; the consequences of overparenting; and why interdisciplinary learning can engage students on all ends of the traditional achievement spectrum. This podcast is part of the MindShift education site, a division of KQED News. KQED is an NPR/PBS member station based in San Francisco. You can also visit the MindShift website for episodes and supplemental blog posts or tweet us \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/MindShiftKQED\">@MindShiftKQED\u003c/a> or visit us at \u003ca href=\"/mindshift\">MindShift.KQED.org\u003c/a>",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Mindshift-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
"imageAlt": "KQED MindShift: How We Will Learn",
"officialWebsiteLink": "/mindshift/",
"meta": {
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"source": "kqed",
"order": 12
},
"link": "/podcasts/mindshift",
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"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vS1FJTkM1NzY0NjAwNDI5",
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}
},
"morning-edition": {
"id": "morning-edition",
"title": "Morning Edition",
"info": "\u003cem>Morning Edition\u003c/em> takes listeners around the country and the world with multi-faceted stories and commentaries every weekday. Hosts Steve Inskeep, David Greene and Rachel Martin bring you the latest breaking news and features to prepare you for the day.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 3am-9am",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Morning-Edition-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.npr.org/programs/morning-edition/",
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"link": "/radio/program/morning-edition"
},
"onourwatch": {
"id": "onourwatch",
"title": "On Our Watch",
"tagline": "Deeply-reported investigative journalism",
"info": "For decades, the process for how police police themselves has been inconsistent – if not opaque. In some states, like California, these proceedings were completely hidden. After a new police transparency law unsealed scores of internal affairs files, our reporters set out to examine these cases and the shadow world of police discipline. On Our Watch brings listeners into the rooms where officers are questioned and witnesses are interrogated to find out who this system is really protecting. Is it the officers, or the public they've sworn to serve?",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/On-Our-Watch-Podcast-Tile-703x703-1.jpg",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "/podcasts/onourwatch",
"meta": {
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"source": "kqed",
"order": 11
},
"link": "/podcasts/onourwatch",
"subscribe": {
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"google": "https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5ucHIub3JnLzUxMDM2MC9wb2RjYXN0LnhtbD9zYz1nb29nbGVwb2RjYXN0cw",
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},
"on-the-media": {
"id": "on-the-media",
"title": "On The Media",
"info": "Our weekly podcast explores how the media 'sausage' is made, casts an incisive eye on fluctuations in the marketplace of ideas, and examines threats to the freedom of information and expression in America and abroad. For one hour a week, the show tries to lift the veil from the process of \"making media,\" especially news media, because it's through that lens that we see the world and the world sees us",
"airtime": "SUN 2pm-3pm, MON 12am-1am",
"imageSrc": "https://ww2.kqed.org/radio/wp-content/uploads/sites/50/2018/04/onTheMedia.png",
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"meta": {
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"source": "wnyc"
},
"link": "/radio/program/on-the-media",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/on-the-media/id73330715?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/On-the-Media-p69/",
"rss": "http://feeds.wnyc.org/onthemedia"
}
},
"pbs-newshour": {
"id": "pbs-newshour",
"title": "PBS NewsHour",
"info": "Analysis, background reports and updates from the PBS NewsHour putting today's news in context.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 3pm-4pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/PBS-News-Hour-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.pbs.org/newshour/",
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"source": "pbs"
},
"link": "/radio/program/pbs-newshour",
"subscribe": {
"apple": "https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/pbs-newshour-full-show/id394432287?mt=2",
"tuneIn": "https://tunein.com/radio/PBS-NewsHour---Full-Show-p425698/",
"rss": "https://www.pbs.org/newshour/feeds/rss/podcasts/show"
}
},
"perspectives": {
"id": "perspectives",
"title": "Perspectives",
"tagline": "KQED's series of daily listener commentaries since 1991",
"info": "KQED's series of daily listener commentaries since 1991.",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Perspectives_Tile_Final.jpg",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "/perspectives/",
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"source": "kqed",
"order": 14
},
"link": "/perspectives",
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