The writing proceeds. Making good progress. Although, really, it helps to put the blog on the back-burner for the moment. Not that I don't miss it. I do. And I'll be back. But right now, I want. to. finish. this. book.

Did I mention that we're also remodeling our kitchen at the moment? And a bathroom? We are. So my other chore at the moment is to learn how to cook on electricity (we set up a temporary kitchen in the basement, and I'm cooking on a two-burner  hotplate). I figure I'll get proficient at cooking with electricity just about the time the kitchen is finished and I can get back to my beloved gas cooktop.

(Photos of remodeling at my Facebook page, if you're interested.) Anyway . .  .

. . . to bring you breaking news: Looks like we've finally got a viable e-reader. Remember when Steve Jobs said no one read books anymore and that was interpreted as evidence he was working on an e-reader? Well, it's here (actually, not sure if it's literally on sale, but the device was just introduced at a news conference). (Live blogging all over the place, but good coverage here from NYT.)

Soooo. Now all I need is the $700+ the thing is going to cost. And since there's no hope of rounding up that much disposable cash anytime soon (you didn't seriously think I earn any money from my books, did you??), I shall lust after the iPad from afar.

iPad? What the FUCK were they thinking with that name? Every woman over 45 is howling with laughter. And every guy old enough to remember the era of the bachelor pad. All I can think of is electronic Kotex.

I love this from Terry Teachout. Makes me sad and glad at the same time: Sad to nod my head in agreement; glad someone as smart as he wrote it. So: if you've a mind, go read, ponder, etc.

Trust me. This is all related. Lex, who blogs at Scholars & Rogues, posted a thoughtful comment in response to the Caitlin Flanagan garden brew-haha (is that how that's spelled). See it here. One of his points rang true at our household this week. Lex writes that

But given the economic reality of America, very few of these children will actually better their socio-economic situation by really cracking the books. The private sector hasn’t created a job in a decade now; recent college graduates are looking at massive unemployment numbers; and the jobs generally available can be done by trained monkeys.

I've noted here my concerns about the future of the American economy, especially the fact that in terms of research and intellectual development, the U. S. is being out-paced, quickly, by other countries, most especially China.

That concern came home --- literally --- this week. Unless you've been lost in space for the past year, you know that the "economy" is in trouble and that's especially true at the state level. Eg, California teeters on bankruptcy, Utah has put some state workers on four-day weeks, and so forth. One institution that's taking a hit these days is the "state" university. When times get hard, state legislators cut university budgets.

My husband is on the faculty at the state university here in Ames (Iowa State, to be precise). Last year, university administrators were told to cut the budget and this week they finally released the plan for Round One of the cuts. (They were just told to expect millions more in cuts, so presumably Round Two is not far behind.)

The deans in the College of Liberal Arts, the school that houses my husband's department, decided to divide its departments into four groups. One group --- consisting of sciences --- will continue to function as conventional research departments. (The faculty will be rewarded for its research and, to a lesser extent, for its teaching.) The other three groups contain the departments that have been "demoted" to a mostly or a strictly teaching function. Two groups will still be allowed some research time.

But one group gets none. Those departments will function as strictly "service" departments. No more new faculty. No research. Most likely no majors or upper level courses. My husband's department --- philosophy --- falls into that group.

He's trying to be, um, philosophical about it. But he places the blame not on bureaucrats, not on state legislators, but on George Bush and Dick Cheney. He argues that during their eight years, they sold off the country's future, got us into horrific debt (which, obviously, we were already in before GW was elected), and created today's mess: We're abandoning substantive education, ceding a future of intellectual development, inventions, technology, and so forth to, mostly, the Chinese.

Leaving us to squabble over things like whether kids should spend a half hour a day planting tomatoes and pulling weeds. 'Cause that's what people do when all the important stuff's been decided: fight over the crumbs of pie, while the winners feast on the pie itself.

Sam Fromartz, author of the excellent Organic, Inc. (which I've mentioned here before and plan to keep mentioning until I can persuade everyone to read it) has weighed in on the anti-Alice-Waters essay I mentioned in my previous post.

You can read his take at his blog, Chews Wise. Definitely worth reading. He and I land on opposite sides of the fence on this issue, but I think his critique is more pointed than others I've read. Oddly, he criticizes Waters for precisely the same reason I criticized the essayist at Civil Eats. (Eg, let's not confuse food policy with educational policy.) I think we can conclude that using gardens-in-the-school as either a route to or criticism of educational policy in general doesn't work.

Or something like that.) (Not being terribly coherent here: am trying to keep my brain focused on writing the  middle third of the new book. That means not letting myself get distracted by other juicy brain-fodder.)

The current issue of Atlantic magazine has a fascinating essay by Caitlin Flanagan who criticizes the "school garden" movement launched by restaurateur/food "guru" Alice Waters. (*1)

The whole school-gardening thing has bugged me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why, until I read this essay. And then I started nodding my head. Yep, that's the problem. Yep.

In the interest of fairness, of course, I also direct you to a thoughtful, smart rebuttal at the website Civil Eats. And make sure there to read the comments. I think the essayist at Civil Eats (an Iowa chef named Kurt  Michael Friese) makes good points.

But I also think his own critique smooshes the dividing line between Flanagan's critique of the garden movement with his own critique of the current educational system in the United States. He'dve been better off sticking to one topic. In any case, both essays are worth reading.

Although, cough cough, both of course manage to take a fairly tiny part of the "food debate" and inflate it into Something Monumental. In the general scheme of things, Waters' idea is fairly small potatoes (no pun intended). Still, it's indicative of the extent to which there is a debate and there is conflict about food in America that such a seemingly small matter can take on a life of its own.

____________

*1: Full disclosure at the outset: I'm not a big fan of Waters, if only because of what I think of as nearly narcissistic hypocrisy on her part. She claims to care about food, nutrition, etc. But according to everything I've ever heard and read, including an adulatory biography (*2) that came out a few years ago, waste is no problem with her. If a bunch of spinach, for example, is not perfect --- and I do mean perfect --- it gets tossed. Not just the bad leaves; the entire bunch. Hello? I mean, I could see not serving squished leaves on a plate when the restaurant is charging $30 for the plate of salad, but to toss the entire bunch? Hello??

*2: The biography, written by Thomas McNamee, is quite good: well-written and researched, lively, engaging. But it does lean toward the adulatory, so much so that the irony of Waters' attitude toward wasting food is lost on McNamee. Still, it's a good book and I recommend it.

I had fun with the first round, so here ya go: more bite-sized text to edit. Click on the link and you'll get a piece of text from the draft of my new manuscript. This is from what I expect will be chapter three. Thank you in advance!

Oh: to answer a question posed in the comments section of the first entry on this subject: Yes, legally, this is okay. I'm only posting small chunks of a draft, which is akin to what I'd do if I were in a writer's group and posted my draft for critique from group members. So feel free; the editing/copyright police won't come get you.

There was a nice piece in yesterday's Los Angeles Times, in which food writer Russ Parsons urges both sides of the "food fight" to aim for civility (which is only another way of saying "Could ya stop yammering and start listening?).

I'm sure he's not the only one hoping for more discussion and less lunacy, but unlike others, he offers a specific, practical list of assumptions both sides need to dump. It's worth reading, if only because it's more pragmatic and substantive than most of what's out there.

Not, mind you, that I see much hope any time soon for a) civil debate; or b) informed debate. Sadly, most of those doing the talking (shouting? yammering?) argue (if you can call it that) their case based on muddle-headed assumptions, which (you can see this coming, right?) stem from lack of knowledge about the history of American agriculture, and especially the history of federal farm policies.

Anyway, worth a read if you have the time. Tip o' the mug in this case to Tom Philpott, who blogs at Grist and who wrote his own response to Parsons' essay. (Also worth reading if only because it's a near-perfect example of the "Big Ag is the devil" side of the debate.)

The good folks at Book Oven are among those trying to figure out what "writing" and "books" mean in the twenty-first century. (The link takes you to the site's home page; once there, you can check out their blog, twitter link, etc.)

Among their other projects, they've created a site called Bite-Size Edits, where control freaks like me can throw caution to the wind and let you, the reader, help write/edit our books.

(Yes, I am a control freak. The very idea of turning my text loose, unedited, unfinished, unpolished is unnerving. But what's life for but to learn and grow?) So you are hereby invited to join the process.

It works like this: I post some text at the Bite-Size site. The site software spits it back out in small chunks (bytes/bites. Get it?) and you have at it. So go! Have fun! Here's the link

While I was out of town, I was computerless and so had a chance to get some distance from and therefore think about how, why, and when I use a computer and about my online life. Which made me think about Twitter and reminded me just how much I enjoy and value it as a tool for writing, communicating, and learning. I was trying (without much success) to explain Twitter to various family members: that I use it was a way to follow the thoughts/ideas of a slew of smart, talented people. And then I pick up today's New York Times --- and see that David Carr has said precisely what I was trying (and failing) to say. Here's the money-quote (or one of them):

By carefully curating the people you follow, Twitter becomes an always-on data stream from really bright people in their respective fields, whose tweets are often full of links to incredibly vital, timely information.

Yep, yep, yep. Soooo. If you're not yet using Twitter, and you're on the prowl for a new year's resolution, I can think of none better than to get a Twitter account and start connecting.

So, I managed to see the Tim Burton exhibit at MOMA last Friday. One word: astonishing. Well, maybe another word: Genius. The guy is a certified creative genius. (And, as my husband said, perhaps a bit crazy as well. Which is hardly surprising.)

I'm a serious Burton fan and the exhibit only confirmed my long-held belief that he is an artist of an extremely high caliber who just happens to use film as his major medium of expression.

The exhibit is fairly small: most of it is crammed into one large room on the third floor, but if you go, don't miss the small collection of drawings and photographs located on the lower level of the museum.

My only complaints about the retrospective (and it is just that: the earliest works date from his high school years): One, the catalog is underwhelming. Nice, but nothing like a full catalog of what's on display in the show. Two, the exhibit ignores his move to London and the city's effect on his career and work.

But those are minor quibbles. If you're going to be in NYC between now and late April, do yourself a favor and see the exhibit.