Book Ended

Yet another co-worker at The Times is getting a book published. That makes at least 7 people -- that I am aware of -- who are published authors in the newsroom. Two of the reporters I supervise have been published, which makes me feel like a slacker.

Lots of people like to say, "I have a book in me." Do I? Don't know. I have digested enough books by now, surely, to have the equivalent of at least one book lurking inside. But what would it be about? Fiction seems dicey. If I follow the advice of "write what you know," I'm doomed to write about A) cats B) small newspapers C) Thomas the Train D) failed gardening....you get the picture. I suppose I could write a fictional account of a newsroom. Then I'd be tempted to thinly disguise all the people I didn't like over the past 20 years as victims of horrible crimes and I guess that'd be wrong. Wouldn't it? "Oh, did you think that person was YOU? Who got pushed down the stairs after telling her editor she wasn't any good at her job? How so?"

Nonfiction could be a safer route.

Date of the Union

I love, love, love, the plan for folks from either side of the aisle in Washington to mix it up, seating-wise, for the State of the Union speech.

First, the serious, grownup reasons:

--We elected you to go to do the NATION'S business. That means a bunch of people from across the nation, working together. The least you can do is sit together. This isn't the Civil War.

--You're perpetrating a seating arrangement from an acrimonious period in American history that is now considered quaint. The Whigs are no more. We have BlackBerries and we let women vote and stuff. Let's get with the times.

--You are "officials" now. We hold you to a wee bit of a higher standard than other people. (See Watergate, Rangell, et al) Every day, Americans go to work with people they don't particularly like. From the chicken factory to the newsroom, we all sit down each day with people we don't agree with. But you know what? I still get the damn paper out. And chickens turn up in the grocery store. You can do the same.

Now, the fun reasons:

--OMG, Gillebrand and Thune (shown here with a soldier just returned from the Middle East) are going to sit together. The Prom Queen and King of Washington. How fun is that?

--Much more guesswork as to what seatmates are talking about.

--Much more sport in comparing outfits from either party. Who has the nicest tie in Florida? Who has the best outfit in California? This kind of armchair quarterbacking is going to be easier with the bipartisan seating arrangement.

--It is ticking off a particularly snooty lawmaker, whose SPOKESMAN had to comment on the issue, because he couldn't be bothered. When asked who this particular lawmaker would sit by, the SPOKESMAN said, "whoever sits next to him." Oooo, I bet YOU'RE fun at parties.

Lost in Any Sort of Translation

It's a bad idea to start using fancy words if you don't know how they're pronounced. Not wanting to appear foolish, like those Easterners who say "WILL-a MET-tee" or "OR-e-GONE" in public, I for years have kept words to myself, waiting eagerly for the day when someone else will volunteer the word first, and I can copy it.

For some words, this is a long time coming. Debussy (the composer is shown here, with his dogs), espalier, 'Pelleas et Melisande,' 'Les Regiment du Filles' ...these don't come up a lot. Sometimes you get desperate and just spit one out, hoping you're playing to a friendly room. Or you never, ever say them aloud. Like substituting "The Scottish Play" for "Macbeth," as superstitious actors used to do. But you can't say "Debussy's opera" instead of "Pelleas" if you can't pronounce "Debussy." You see the issue, especially for a classical music-opera editor. In some circles I am actually regarded as a quiet, retiring type.

I recently discovered that I had been mentally/verbally pronouncing the Venice Biennale incorrectly. For like, years. I was inserting an extra vowel there - Bienn-i-ale, rather than BYE-en-NAHL. Ugh. Horrifying. One ticket to rubeville, please. But now I can sail forth, saying it correctly, if the moment ever occurs. The inside of my head is a much better -- and better-sounding -- place. This year, I resolve to bring my pronunciations up to date.