Book Reviews, by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Let the Baby Name Itself

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Twee: The Gentle Revolution in Music, Books, Television, Fashion, and FilmTwee: The Gentle Revolution in Music, Books, Television, Fashion, and Film by Marc Spitz

I’d been confused about this “movement” for some time – The sometimes lazy, often fearful, hyper-emotional misfits demanding the coddling of their helicoptered childhoods to continue well past sell-by dates, into their collective twenties and thirties.

A weird skinny lumberjack beard or two later, these (wo)men-children have been, somewhat insultingly, labeled “Twee”…

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R e v i e w s

by Jeff Glovsky
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by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

When Blogs Collide . . .

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Writing on Blogspot
. . . on WordPress

(and vice versa!)


If you’ve searched me by name, Jeff Glovsky, chances are you’ve wound up here.  Welcome.

What’s in a Name?

In learning the craft of writing, and of becoming (more or less) myself, I seem to have tuned into a few of the biggies … certain manna, and ticks and inflections of theirs, picked up by my young and thirsty antennae, all bursting with needing to take it all in.

Gifts and Ripoffs

… flying in the face of his own misguided logic that in some small way, an exit by overdose might be a good thing — its transmitted “message” perhaps being taken to heart, as opposed to being ignored or simply not received at all by other nodding junkies suddenly waking up, saying, “You know what?  Philip Seymour Hoffman died.  Let me quit.” —

Sadly, it’s unlikely that this became the case anywhere.  Philip Seymour Hoffman just died.

Olympic Darkness

Once I was sitting outside a jazz club where I used to mix sound.  It was a beautiful spring night, and I stepped out of what was, at that time, the stereotypical smoke-filled room to gulp in some fresh air.  It was during a bass solo … These always tended to go on forever anyway, so I figured I had a few minutes, at least, before the singer would come in again and start gesticulating (wildly) toward her ear, suggesting (none too subtly) that she wasn’t able to hear herself …

Cold, War and Otherwise

Elliot Rodger was a sick, pained soul. Stereotypically “tortured”, almost “poetic”, in his musings. His dark manifesto, had it been written, say, a century and a half ago … penned anonymously, and/or “discovered” … who knows? Might have become a literary classic, in the Dostoevsky or Knut Hamsun vein.

As a writer, I myself am tortured: panged with jealousy, twisted, unnerved, by the guy’s naive, sadly wasted talent!

America’s Psycho

When my dad turned 50 years old, he did a little ‘river dance‘ on his birthday cake.  Sadly frustrated with life and years behind him to that point, and whatever present hassles he felt his family, (empty) wallet and failing business had been giving him, in a single swooping motion, he swatted his 50th birthday cake off the kitchen counter, and leapt upon it like Nureyev.

Remember(ing) Laughter

Last May, in the wake of the Donald Sterling nonsense, I commented — rather vehemently — about the old fella’s ‘mistreatment’ at the hands of certain “hating and seething” “thought police” … “angry, directionless ministers beseeching … already converted choirs” that Sterling was worse than just a crusty curmudgeon, left up to his neck in societal sea change.

I empathized with Donald Sterling …

Two Nations, Under God?

Jeff Glovsky (Words by)
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Book Reviews, by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Thoughts Escape …

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R e v i e w s

by Jeff Glovsky

Vitruvius

The Ten Books of Architecture

Not only a book about “architecture”, per se, but a fascinating glimpse into the full scope of city planning, function, design, form and construction which comprise human dwelling. As picture perfect a time (and place) capsule as de Tocqueville, Proust, Joyce, Dostoevsky or Kerouac, the fundamental principles and observations of Vitruvius‘ time (and place) apply today – wherever humans of a civilization dwell together.

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Paulo Coelho

Aleph

I continue to be confounded by the cult of P.C.  His dumbing down and sound-biting of spiritual beliefs across various cultures — his appropriation of these, and regurgitation of defining tenets into (sound)bite-sized pablum and boring, obvious homilies — grows more and more off-putting with each publication.

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Tobias Wolff

This Boy’s Life

Like Arundhati Roy in The God of Small Things, and like Kerouac before them, Tobias Wolff in a way reinvents the language, developing a cadence and certain words and phrasings that become uniquely, identifiably his.  None of the deft flow, though, detracts from the power of this memoir …

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Donald Fagen

Eminent Hipsters

Expecting something vaguely Lennon-esque, going in (along the lines of In His Own Write, perhaps) … or alternately (worst-case scenario), some combination of Bob Dylan’s Tarantula and a crap Steely Dan song (and yes, there are those) … I was pleasantly surprised by several more or less straight-ahead nods to the ’eminent hipsters’ in Don’s early domain …

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Good Reads (and Meh)!

. . .  s o  f a r .

While admittedly not an “avid” reader, I read a little … plus, I know what sounds right, I’m not tone deaf and I know what’s ‘in key’ (though I’ll never be there!) …

so watch this space ^.

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