‘Blogging comes straight from the lizard brain’

P.J. O'Rourke on Blogging, Facebook and Twitter

“Very little that gets blogged is of very much worth.” Hey, don’t look at me, I didn't say it. P.J. O'Rourke, the well-known American satirist, journalist and author said it in an entertaining interview to Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty in July 2010, the month that Facebook announced that its users had reached 500 million. I only happened to stumble across his interview 14 months later.

On Facebook touching 500 million: Had you told me that 500 million people last week wrote their name on the bathroom wall with a magic marker I would be equally impressed by the number, but I don't think that I would be favourably impressed. 

On Twitter: There's small talk, and then there's very, very small talk, and then there's Twitter. I don't see the need or the benefit.

On Blogging: I don't care much for blogging because it is undigested thinking, because it comes straight from the heart, or the lizard brain, or the mouth without due consideration. Very little that gets blogged is of very much worth. Almost everything should be thought over. Don't we all know it from things that we've said to our spouses? That you should think twice before you say anything.

Blogging is very selfish. I mean, if you want a true picture of what somebody's thinking at a moment, kick them and see what they say. You'll get a blog. You'll get a tweet. You'll get a brief expression of how somebody feels at a given moment. But communication is all about the other person. It's not about the person who is communicating. It's about the person who is listening, or receiving, or viewing. And blogging is very self-indulgent. It's all about me. It isn't about the person who is reading the blog.

There’s more of this hilarious stuff at http://www.rferl.org/content/PJ_ORourke_Very_Little_That_Gets_Blogged_Is_Of_Very_Much_Worth/2107985.html

Me: Is that why they call Facebook — Two-Facedbook; Twitter — Titter; and Blogging — Bogging?

What do you think of P.J. O'Rourke’s take on the social media of the 21st century? No doubt, he has touched a raw nerve or two but he has raised a pertinent issue or two as well.

Whether O'Rourke is really serious or pulling our leg, I can’t say. What I can say is that I don't entirely disagree with him, especially the part where he says blogging is “selfish” and “self-indulgent” — two fine conscience-stinging words in the dictionary. There is some truth in it. I took a self-analytical blog quiz and look what I came up with…

01. Do I lose sleep over blogging, and wake up with a non-drinker’s hangover in the morning?
A: Yes

02. Do I blog when the rest of the family is spending time together, watching television or talking over the day’s events?
A: Occasionally

03. Do I check my blog several times a day, to see if it will win the Best of Blog awards?
A: Yes

04. Do I write a blogpost virtually any time of day or night, in office, at home or wherever?
A: Yes

05. Do I feel that if I don’t post daily my “followers” will lose interest in my blog, and so will I?
A: Yes

06. If it weren’t for blogging would I have spent as much time posting, and wasting my precious little time?
A: No

07. If blogging wasn’t around would I have written fewer but much better pieces, like I used to in the good old days?
A: Yes

08. Do I scroll down to the “comment” link less than an hour after a post, even if the only person who is reading my post is me?
A: Yes

09. Do I keep one eye cocked on the “visitor counter,” like my commission depended upon it?
A: Yes

10. Did I really have to post this, when I could have written a decent piece for my paper instead?
A: No...wait, yes! 

I can’t run a similar quiz on Facebook and Twitter because I subscribe to neither. Now, really, I’m not all that “selfish” and “self-indulgent” as P.J. O'Rourke says. But do you think he’ll read this post? 

Even if he doesn’t I intend to follow him on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pj.orourke.author and on Twitter at twitter.com/PJORourke!

WISDOM FROM BOOKS & COMICS

Alvin Toffler in Future Shock

© Pan Books, London

Man has a limited biological capacity for change. When this capacity is overwhelmed, the capacity is in future shock.

To survive, to avert what we have termed future shock, the individual must become infinitely more adaptable and capable than ever before. We must search out totally new ways to anchor ourselves, for all the old roots—religion, nation, community, family, or profession—are now shaking under the hurricane impact of the accelerative thrust. It is no longer resources that limit decisions, it is the decision that makes the resources.

The illiterate of the future are not those who can't read or write but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and re-learn.

Writer at Work: 

Charles Dickens

Celebrated English novelist Charles Dickens started his writing career with short stories before he published his first major novel The Pickwick Papers in March 1836 followed by a string of highly acclaimed fiction and non-fiction books, short stories, and plays.

Soft-footing into hardboiled fiction

© Jove Books

© No Exit Press

There are two ways a new book comes into your bibliophilic life—either you discover it on your own, usually by reading about it in the papers or online or picking it up blindfolded in a bookstore; or someone who has read the book and liked it immensely, gushes about it to you—“God, what a book! I read it in one-go. I couldn’t put it down, you know. How can anyone write like this? You must read it! What? You want me to lend it to you? No, I can't do that…mum, dad and sis want to read it too. You know what? You should buy this book. Gasket’s* is selling it at 20% discount. I’ll come with you if you like. What a book!”

There’s a third way—literary blogs written by true book lovers. It’s through this route that I first heard of three crime-noir writers whose books soon found their way on to my bookshelf. Until then I hadn’t even heard of the authors who wrote them. You’ll find the referred blogs in the right-hand margin of this blog and I assure you, you won’t be disappointed. Blogs have a personal touch which websites lack. 

I bought the three hardboiled-noir books from a secondhand bookstore in a northwest suburb of Bombay. They are: The Imposter, #296 of ‘The Gunsmith’ series, by J.R. Roberts, a pseudonym for pulp writer Robert J. Randisi who writes detective and Western fiction; Burglars Can’t Be Choosers by Lawrence Block, a crime writer popular for his long-running series based on P.I. Matthew Scudder, an alcoholic on the mend, and Bernie Rhodenbarr, a gentleman burglar; and Downtown by Ed McBain, a pseudonym for the late Evan Hunter, a noted crime and script writer.

The popularity of these American authors is evident from the number of times they and their works have been written about by fellow-bloggers on the right, many of whom are accomplished writers. They know what they are blogging about.

© Avon Books

Robert J. Randisi, whom Booklist magazine describes as “may be the last of the pulp writers”; Lawrence Block, whose fan mail would be the envy of most writers; and Evan Hunter, whom award-winning American author Ed Gorman described as “one of the two or three best and most influential crime writers of his generation” are masters of their craft—be it crime, mystery, detective or Western. They must be read and savoured.

I am a newcomer to hardboiled-noir fiction. Nonetheless, the objective of this post is to introduce this genre to Indian readers who, like me, are not familiar with it. Between them, Randisi, Block and Hunter have written nearly a thousand books. I already have three books, one by each author. Well, it’s a beginning…

* Gasket’s is not a bookstore anywhere. A gasket is a seal consisting of a ring for packing pistons or sealing a pipe joint.

Stamp of a Writer: Edgar Rice Burroughs

© USPS

"No fiction is worth reading except for entertainment. If it entertains and is clean, it is good literature, or its kind. If it forms the habit of reading, in people who might not read otherwise, it is the best literature." 

"I write to escape, to escape poverty."

"As the body rolled to the ground Tarzan of the Apes placed his foot upon the neck of his lifelong enemy and, raising his eyes to the full moon, threw back his fierce young head and voiced the wild and terrible cry of his people."

The Keys of Hell by Jack Higgins

© Berkley Books

Harry Patterson, the British thriller writer, first wrote The Keys of Hell in 1965 under the pseudonym Martin Fallon. In 2001, Patterson brought this novel back into public memory under his most famous pen name, Jack Higgins, and that’s the paperback edition I read last week.

Now The Keys of Hell is not his best work and you’ll probably forget all about it the minute you finish reading it. But if you’re a Jack Higgins fan, and I am one, then you’re apt to like it and, well, remember it too.

The story revolves around expatriate Paul Chavasse, a tough-as-nails undercover agent for British intelligence, who is back from a secret operation in Albania only to be sent back into that communist-infested land for another one. “A little chore” this time, as his Chief tells him calmly. Chavasse must put off his leave, by some three weeks, and go back to Bari, Italy, to kill Enrico Noci before he flees to Albania. Noci is a double agent who’s currying favour with both the British and the Albanians, which was okay till the Chinese decided to milk him as well.

Chavasse, as dutiful as any British intelligence operative, asks, “Do I bring him in?”

“What on earth for?” is the Chief's laconic reply. “Get rid of him; a swimming accident, anything you like. Nothing messy.” Of course not. The British like to keep even their covert operations clean, in case you hadn’t noticed.

Chavasse follows his instructions and kills Noci in cold blood aboard his friend and partner-in-crime Guilo Orsini’s boat Buona Esperanza. Nothing messy, all right. Instead, Chavasse gets into a mess himself when he decides to skip vacation to help the not unattractive Francesca Minetti, a fellow agent and a double-crosser, to retrieve the Madonna of Scutari—a legendary statue of ebony and gold that has protected Albania's faithful for a thousand years.

Once in Albania, Minetti shows her true colours—her allegiance to Tirana's oppressive communist regime led by the real-life Enver Hoxha—and turns the government forces against Chavasse, Orsini, a faithful deckhand, and a native girl, Luri Kupi, who helps them escape. The successful retrieval of the Madonna would mean a resurgence of the Roman Catholic Church within Albania and certain death of the communist government, which is desperate to find and destroy the statue before it destroys the despotic rulers.

The rest of the story is played out in stench-filled marshes between Albania and Italy, as Chavasse and his friends play hide and seek with Hoxha’s forces. They eventually escape but not before killing Minetti and recovering the relic.

Cut to the present. Chavasse closes the detailed file on his Albanian misadventure only to find himself caught between a New York mafia boss, Don Tino Rossi, and his nephew, Mario Volpe, who wants to kill his uncle and take over the mob, and bump off Chavasse too. Can you guess why? No? Chavasse killed his parents—Enrico Noci and Francesca Minetti. Remember them?

In the end Volpe is killed by Chavasse in a firefight and Don Rosi has his way—a renegade nephew out of the way and a secret agent who is important to all his plans. A private jet awaits Paul Chavasse and off he flies to London to run an errand, only this time it’s for the mafia.

What I like about Jack Higgins novels is their clarity in every department—writing style, characters and plot, description of places, and narration. The stories are straightforward and entertaining and entirely believable. The Keys of Hell? Yes, it’s worth a read.

JUKE BOX

Almost Paradise by Ann Wilson and Mike Reno

Almost Paradise, the love theme from Footloose sung by Mike Reno (the lead singer of rock band Loverboy) and Ann Wilson (a vocalist for the band Heart), has been one of my all-time favourite love songs. I have been listening to this popular number since Footloose, starring Kevin Bacon and Lori Singer, hit the theatres in 1984. I was in college then and I used to watch the musical video on state-run channels on our black-and-white television set. If you and your girlfriend (or boyfriend) are on a patch-up then this beautiful song is just for you. It will inspire you to run right across the street and re-proclaim your undying love for the woman (or man) of your dreams. That's a little mushy, I know, but go ahead, listen to it...

I thought that dreams belonged to other men

'Cuz each time I got close

They'd fall apart again

I feared my heart would beat in secrecy

I faced the nights alone

Oh, how could I have known

That all my life I only needed you

Chorus

Whoa-oa

ALMOST PARADISE

We're knocking on heaven's door

ALMOST PARADISE

How could we ask for more?

I swear that I can see forever in your eyes

Paradise

It seems like perfect love's so hard to find

I'd almost given up

You must've read my mind

And all these dreams I saved for a rainy day

They're finally comin' true

I'll share them all with you

'Now we hold the future in our hands

Chorus

And in your arms salvation's not so far away

We're getting closer, closer every day

Chorus