Fan's Notes

In what may be the last pod we record face-to-face for a while, we dig into Joseph O'Neill's wonderful 2008 novel about marriage, cricket, and 9/11. Its portrait of a man flailing about for a proper response to a world in crisis chimed eerily with the vibe in America at the moment, as we enter the first full week of social distancing to combat coronavirus. At least Hans, the book's narrator, can fall back on the comforts and rhythms of cricket, a luxury not afforded to us in this time of across-the-board cancellations of sports, including the NBA. (We move from discussing the book to discussing the suspension of the NBA season at the 54 minute mark.) Next up, the final station in our journey across the century: Jonathan Franzen's FREEDOM. Til then, stay safe and healthy, everyone.

No basketball talk today, the better to make room for a friendly sparring contest over Donna Tartt's 1992 debut novel. It's a book dear to Adam's heart across multiple readings; it's also one that Jesse, reading it for the first time, thoroughly disliked. Our discussion is repetitive and seemingly endless (very much like the book in question jkjk.) In honor of the large volume of scotch the characters drink in this book, here's a drinking game: take a shot every time we use the words "bucolic" or "fiefdom." Next time: the 2000s, and Joseph O'Neill's Netherland.

We'd like to thank our listeners Matthew Ballou and Jason Ahuja, who suggested this week's book. The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake was first published in 1983, a few years after Pancake committed suicide at the age of 26. We discuss the way Pancake writes about his home state of West Virginia, and our sadness that he didn't live to extend the promise of these early stories. 37 minutes in, we recap the biggest deals of the NBA trade deadline. From there we're moved to lament the lonesome fate of the center in today's NBA. From Houston going all small-ball all the time, to Philly gaslighting Joel Embiid, to rebounding savant Andre Drummond being traded for a bag of popcorn, there's never been a worse time to be seven feet tall. Next up, the 1990s and Donna Tartt's The Secret History.

Today we discuss Sula, Toni Morrison's 1973 follow-up to her debut novel The Bluest Eye, before pivoting at the 50 minute mark to talk about some of the things we've found most surprising about this NBA season, including the shockingly fun Oklahoma City Thunder, the frisky Memphis Grizzlies, and the better-than-expected Los Angeles Lakers. Join us next time as we read -- by request! -- The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake, our selection from the 1980s.

We'd like to extend a big thanks to listener Jeff Schroeck, who suggested we pick up Coover's 1968 fantasy-baseball fantasia as our selection from the 1960s. It was weird and smart and provoked a wide array of thoughts about postmodernism (both as a literary movement and as an operating condition of the second half of the twentieth century and beyond), which we tried to explore and examine in this episode. (Book suggestions are always welcome, by the way. If you too would like to hear us fundamentally misunderstand and make unsupportable claims about a book you dearly admire, please don't hesitate to email us or tweet at Adam with your titles!) At the one hour mark, we go over some trades that might shore up the rosters of the best teams in the league, to mark the start of the race to the trade deadline. Apologies to audiophiles out there: due to a badly placed microphone, Jesse sounds a bit distant and room tone-y. We fixed it for the NBA chat. Next up: the 1970s, and Toni Morrison's Sula.

We tarry cheerfully in the obscure and creepy corridors of Shirley Jackson's late novels, sites of psychic ambiguity and authorial (and architectural!) precision. Then, at the 46 minute mark, we assess the credibility of various trends of the young NBA season, as well as use the phrase "round into form" countless times. Next up, the postmodern 60s, and Robert Coover's orthographically complex (at least in title) novel The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop. Join us!

Here at long last is the second half of our recent podstravaganza, featuring Charles Chace and all of our misguided pre-season predictions. Feast your ears on all the things we were wrong about! Thanks to Charles for coming in (and bringing his fancy microphone and shock mount to boot.) We hope to have him back in later on in the season when we can further revel in our collective wrongness. Next up on the book side: the 1950s, and Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House.

Recorded as part of a three-hour podstravaganza earlier this week, here's our discussion of Malcolm Lowry's daunting, forbidding, and rewarding 1947 novel. The rest of the podcast, in which we preview the newborn NBA season with our friend Charles Chace, is still being edited and will be released soon. Going forward on the books side, we have finally made it past the shoals of Modernism! Next up is the 1950s, and Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House.

For our 1930s episode, situated as it is between Mrs. Dalloway in the 1920s and Under the Volcano in the 40s, we decided to linger in the shadow of Modernism awhile longer. But rather than read an emblematic novel from the decade, we wanted instead to think about Modernism's impact on poetry. Where did it come from, in what ways did it break with traditional poetic forms, and to what extent can its effects still be felt on poetry today? We were lucky to be joined by the poet and academic Emma Catherine Perry, who previously came on the podcast to discuss Claudia Rankine's Citizen, and who graciously acted as our guide through this dense thicket. Some of the poems that come up in the course of this conversation include: Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein The Cantos of Ezra Pound The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot The Book of the Dead by Muriel Rukeyser Paterson by William Carlos Williams On Being Numerous by George Poppen It was a fascinating and illuminating experience, and we are immensely grateful to Emma for the

On today's show, we mostly take turns reading passages that moved us from Virginia Woolf's tremendous novel about London in the wake of the great war, since there's nothing we could say that the book doesn't convey more artfully. At the 33 minute mark, we are joined by David Shields, author of Reality Hunger: A Manifesto, to talk about his newest project, MARSHAWN LYNCH: A HISTORY, a documentary film that explores the significance of Marshawn Lynch's refusal to talk to the media. The film, assembled from hundreds of video clips, argues for Lynch's silence as a protest against a racist society and sports-media complex that nevertheless profits off black bodies. For more information about the film, or to find out when it might screen in your area, go to https://www.lynch-a-history.com/. We are grateful to David for coming on the podcast.

We staked out opposite corners of the ring for this one: Adam holding firm to the notion that the narrator is the world's most gullible dolt; Jesse convinced that the narrator is a psycho killer whose reality grows more unstable with every just-remembered detail. Who won? The truth is neither of us. In the end we were rope-a-doped into inarticulacy by Ford's bottomless backstory and untraceable character motivations. One tender mercy to cherish: we dispensed with basketball talk this week, since neither of us cares a whit about USA Basketball. Next time we jump ahead to the 1920s, with Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway.

We've made it to the nineteen aughts, the terminus of our journey into the past, and we've chosen a book that beautifully captures that first decade of the twentieth century. Wharton's 1905 novel stands as an all-time great, drawing on tendencies of the nineteenth century novel but gesturing toward the future of the novel as well. Given that we're in an absolute dead spot on the NBA calendar, we basically just shoot the shit for ten minutes or so, starting around the hour mark. The highlight of this chat is each of us trying to name three athletes in another sport (baseball for Adam and football for Jesse). Enjoy? Next time, we'll be discussing Ford Madox Ford's The Good Soldier. Also, buy Adam's book!: https://www.amazon.com/Hotel-Neversink-Adam-OFallon-Price/dp/1947793349

There's a real pioneer spirit to this edition of the podcast, which was recorded en plein air in a remote mountain location along the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. Nat sounds -- including, at one point, the crackle of rifle shots -- lend background authenticity to our discussion first of Cather's novel, and then, at the 43 minute mark, of the many westward-empire-coursing moves that re-charted the NBA landscape in the early weeks of free agency. Next up: the first decade of the 1900s, and Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth.

We evaluate the flat and round prospects in the 2019 NBA Draft, after a discussion of Aspects of the Novel, E.M. Forster's a droll and delightful collection of lectures he gave at Trinity College in Cambridge in 1927. (NB: our draft big boards starts at the 45 minute mark.) Next up, the nineteen-teens and that staple of high school reading lists, Willa Cather's My Antonia.

For our 1930s book, we read the 1934 debut novel of John O'Hara. We discuss how successful O'Hara is in toggling back and forth between his book's two chief interests: that of the demise of a wealthy car dealer on the one hand and, on the other, his nearly topological rendering of the fictional town of Gibbsville, where the action is set. At the 47:30 mark, we check in on the NBA Finals, with forthright mea culpas for our faulty past predictions, a forthright admission that we have no idea where the series is headed, and a forthright appreciation of the instantly-legendary "Board Man Gets Paid" oral history of Kahwi Leonard's days at San Diego State (https://theathletic.com/1007038/2019/06/03/the-board-man-gets-paid-an-oral-history-of-kawhi-leonards-college-days/). By the next time we record, there will be a champion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Next up: the 1920s, and--mirabile dictu--a non-fiction book! We'll be digging into E.M. Forster's Aspects of the Novel (https://epdf.pub/aspects-of-the-novel.html). Download a copy. Al

Here's an odd book. Green's style is all his own, delightful and perverse, marked by clipped adverbs and a disdain for interiority. It's a talky book; like much of Green's work, the action takes place mainly in dialogue. Set among the English servants at a castle in Ireland during World War II, Loving is funny and confounding and a bit horny. It seems at times like it shouldn't work, which makes it all the more satisfying when it does. At the 54 minute mark, we pivot to the NBA playoffs, to remember the Blazers and Sixers, ponder the still-in-progress Eastern Conference Finals, and savor the fun quotient of the Durant-less Warriors. Up next: The 1930s, with John O'Hara's Appointment in Samarra.

We begin in the 1950s, with Evan S. Connell's Mrs. Bridge, a sneakily moving novel comprised of short, comic vignettes in the life of a Kansas City housewife. At the 47 minute mark, we turn to the second round of the NBA Playoffs. We check in on Warriors-Rockets, Raptors-Sixers, Bucks-Celtics and Nuggets-Blazers, before finishing with an exaltation of Damian Lillard, the flat-out coolest player in the league. Next up: the 1940s, with Henry Green's Loving.

In the first pod recorded in Jesse's distinctly unsoundproofed new office, we tackle Muriel Spark's wonderful 1961 novella The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. At the 42 minute mark, Lynwood Robinson joins us to predict the various playoff series. Apologies to Charles Chace, who we wanted to call in for his takes on the 3-6 matchups; we realized too late that the recorder was paused. Timecodes for particular series: 00:49-00:52 Warriors vs Clippers 00:52-00:54 Bucks vs Pistons 00:54-01:00 Nuggets vs Spurs 01:00-01:08 Raptors vs Magic (01:03-1:07 Sidebar discussion of All NBA 3rd Team forwards) 01:08-01:12 Trailblazers vs Thunder 01:12-01:16 76ers vs Nets 01:16-01:23 Rockets vs Jazz 01:23-01:28 Celtics vs Pacers 01:28-end Conference Finals and Finals predictions Next up: The 1950s, and Evan S. Connell's Mrs. Bridge

This book is great! Highly recommended. And for the first 20 minutes or so we remain focused on a discussion of what it does so expertly. After that we pursue like cats after a laser pointer a long digression of what autofiction means and whether it's a genre distinction that holds value. It may be of interest; it may be utterly tedious. Our apologies if you were hoping for a more fulsome analysis of Adler's book. To repeat, it's great and should be read! At the 53 minute mark, we again bemoan the overlong NBA regular season, which is mercifully nearing its end, and look ahead to potential playoff matchups.

This book has it all: busted shoelaces, advances in drinking straw design, a subtle and supple close reading of the intimacies and formalities of the late 20th Century American workplace. It's delightful and poignant and only 132 pages long! We chew it over, and at the 53 minute mark -- you'll know by the chime of music that plays! -- we move to a short discussion of Zion's exploding sneaker and the senseless logic of the NBA gap year rule, which may finally and mercifully be coming to an end.