The New York Times Book Review totally calls postmodern whiz-kid William Vollmann on his bluff today, assigning somebody who actually understands science to review his new impressionistic book about Copernicus and heliocentrism, Uncentering The Earth. The critic in the Times corner is Dava Sobel, who wrote a well-recieved book about the relationship between Galileo and his daughter, then followed it up with The Planets, a substantial but popular study of astronomy.
As much as I like Vollmann (which is, precisely, enough to buy his books and not enough to finish them), it is very pleasing to see somebody stand up to this awe-inspiring prodigy of knowledge, this legendarily long-suffering David Blaine of contemporary culture who goes by the name of William T. Vollmann. Because Vollmann’s books really are painful to read, and his sentences really could be a hell of a lot clearer, and it’s about time somebody with some intellectual heft stood up and got in his face. Sobel describes his new book as “an onslaught of taxing concepts expressed in an often wearying style.” Welcome to the world of William Vollmann.
And, for the same goddam bizarre reason that I keep seeing Oliver Stone movies and I keep eating at White Castle, I will probably end up reading this Vollmann book too. Starting it, anyway.
Book Review regular Liesl Schillinger is usually excellent, but her review of Matthew Stewart’s The Courtier and the Heretic, leaves my head spinning. The book delves into the inflamed controversy between two major 17th Century European philosophers, Baruch Spinoza and Gottfried Liebniz. I’m not sure if it’s the book’s author or the critic who sees fit to reduce the issues between these two intellectuals to a trite Salieri-vs.-Mozart formulation, but it seems the culprit is Schillinger, who tells us a lot about Spinoza or Leibniz but very little about Stewart’s book. These are two heavyweight philosophers, yet Schillinger speaks of them breathlessly as if they were characters in The Da Vinci Code. When she solemnly explains Leibniz’s quirks by telling us “he was orphaned while still in his teens” it reads like a bad parody of psycho-biography.
It gets worse. This book’s author apparently funded his career as a philosopher and a writer by founding a successful management consulting firm, and Liesl Schillinger lets us know that she’s clueless about how the business world works when she equates the author’s good fortune with “winning the lottery” and creating “his own good luck”. I take it Schillinger has no idea what a management consultant does. But somebody at the Book Review should have an idea, and somebody should have fixed that before it went to print.
It’s rare that I criticize the usually excellent Schillinger, and in that same bizarro spirit I have nothing but praise for today’s endpaper about Betty Friedan by Rachel Donadio (whose previous pieces I’ve had nothing good to say about). Donadio makes some important connections, smartly crossing the gender line to compare Friedan’s groundbreaking book The Feminine Mystique to William Whyte’s study of the conformist workplace of 1950’s America and it’s male archetype, The Organization Man. I also enjoy the way she places Friedan’s book in its own context, informing us that it was published “the same month as the paperback edition of The Centaur, John Updike’s myth-inflected novel of high-school life, and J. D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey.”
Elsewhere in the Times, there’s an informative obituary of the fiction author Frederick Busch in the News section, as well as an essay (of the heartwarming variety) about a mother whose daughter has become a latter-day Beatles freak, written by novelist Ann Hood, author of Three Legged Horse.