creative riff

“You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder. Then again, it might not. A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much of that already.”

Let me say this first – Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City was not what I was expecting. That’s not to say it was bad. It turned out that my initial understanding was wrong and the result was a better novel than I went in thinking it would be.

Critics label McInerney as a member of the 1980’s “Literary Brat Pack,” but he is so much more versatile than that.  Bright Lights, Big City is noted for its use of the second person to describe the New York City cocaine culture of the electric eighties. Strikingly, this gimmick does not detract from the humanity found within the protagonist. Unlike fellow “Brat Packer” Bret Easton Ellis, McInerney doesn’t write post-modern from a nihilistic perspective. His characters have flaws, but they also have regrets and desires to become a better people.

Bright Lights, Big City follows the narrator through his job as a fact-checker for a literary magazine. The story borrows heavily from McInerney’s own time as a fact-checker at the New Yorker. At night, he goes out to clubs and does cocaine with his best friend. He has his dreams as a writer, but the rejection of his submissions to the magazine’s fiction department coupled with the recent separation from his model wife, Amanda, drives him further into his hedonistic lifestyle. At first, the country girl Amanda did not take New York City’s nightlife or the modeling career seriously, but the face of the city slowly creeps over and changes both.

Bright Lights, Big City is a quick read. At 180 pages, you can race through it. Over the course of the book, you are going to actually feel for the protagonist or at least acknowledge his inadequacies. While the novel is not what I was initially expecting, I do want to read more by Raymond Carver’s understudy, particularly, Brightness Falls and Story of My Life, which is based on the life of Rielle Hunter, with whom Jay McInerney had a brief relationship and would later go on to have an affair with 2008 presidential candidate John Edwards.

Oddly enough, this book is getting remade into a film in 2010 according to IMDB. The novel was inspiration for the film of the same name in 1988 that starred Michael J. Fox, Keifer Sutherland, and Pheobe Cates. It was crazy enough to attempt to make Bret Easton Ellis’ short story vignette collection, The Outsiders, earlier this year. I’ll hold my opinion, but I don’t have huge expectations.

Rating:

 Print This Post

“In writing ads, act as you would if you met the individual buyer face to face. Don’t show off. Don’t try to be funny. Don’t try to be clever. Don’t behave eccentrically. Measure ads by salesmen’s standards, not by amusement standards.”

Who is David Ogilvy? Many, including this reader, proclaim him as their main inspiration for entering the advertising field. Why? There are three reasons: 1) Ogilvy’s working philosophy was not the 1960s smoke-filled business pitch as seen in AMC’s Mad Men. He always professed to “sell” the product through detailed feature descriptions and speaking directly to his audience. 2) He interacted and had meaningful relationships with so many assorted major thinkers of the twentieth century that these experiences could be distilled into a damn good film on their own right. 3) The subject of this biography lived nearly 30 years of his life in one of the oldest châteaux in France, Touffou.

David Ogilvy was larger than life and his mixed heritage only accounts for part of his eccentricities. Born on June 23, 1911 in England to a Scottish father and an Irish mother, Ogilvy would eventually attend Oxford on scholarship before eventually dropping out to work numerous jobs in Paris. Finally settling down as a waiter at the elusive Hotel Majestic, Ogilvy learned the art of presentation and preparation. When his successful brother ordered him back to England to help him sell Aga Cooker Stoves. Ogilvy offered free cooking lessons to all housewives who allowed him to demonstrate the stove’s features at their home. He was an instant hit and turned the product into an exclusive status symbol almost overnight in England. Even the Queen wanted one.

Widely considered the most famous automotive ad of all time and Ogilvy's best. The ad was so successful for Rolls-Royce "they don't dare run the ad again for fear of running completely out of stock."

Throughout his career, Ogilvy became known as the odd man out in the world of American advertising when he moved to New York City and opened a small shop. Before Ogilvy, British advertising borrowed heavily from whatever sold in America. Ogilvy’s work consistently proved that the consumer was smart and should be treated as such. He was also one of the first to hire a multi-racial staff. He was also one of the first to decry advertising awards as “distracting” and offered monetary awards to his staff for sales generated over “creativity.”

The man in the Hathaway shirt. His famous eye patch helped to sell more shirts in the ad's initial run than were available.

Kenneth Roman, the former chair and CEO of Ogilvy & Mather (pronounced May-ther), Ogilvy’s ad firm, has created a startling case for his former boss. Ogilvy was a dynamic creature that never held back in expressing his colorful opinions. Ogilvy would tell that you he is only remembered because he “outlived his betters.” Ogilvy is remembered because he was so productive even until his death. He never quite left the public eye or stopped writing.

Early ad for the Aga Cooker featuring Edouard Manet's Luncheon on the Grass. Both were considered controversial when they were first released.

Ogilvy wrote two autobiographies during his lifetime but it is Roman’s that offers the Ogilvy we cherish. There are many parts of Ogilvy’s philosophy that I disagree with, but it is hard to criticize a person that placed as much value on research as he did. Almost nobody bested Ogilvy in any argument and he was self-aware of his genius. Perhaps that is his most admirable quality.

One of Ogilvy's most famous quotes with the Russian dolls that inspired it.

If you are going to read any book on advertising, it should be Ogilvy’s Confessions of an Advertising Man. If you want to read a biography on the man who helped to form much of our contemporary view of core principals of brand image this is your book. Roman was in the best position as a friend and co-worker for so many years to write Ogilvy’s “second opinion” biography. The book is worth a read if only to check out his teen years and the section detailing Ogilvy’s involvement with the OSS during WWII.

Rating:

 Print This Post

So it’s weird and kinda sensual. The prospect that I’m a man but I have returned home for a summer before (hopefully, fingers crossed) moving on to bigger and better things. I have a lot to thank my parents for but at the same time I can’t help shake the feeling that I should be in New York high fiving some British executives at a posh studio apartment party while wearing a tie around my head (and doing some funky moves on the dance floor without spilling my beverage [vodka tonic]).

Instead, I’m in Winston-Salem doing close to nothing and not really regretting it. I have the company of Conan O’Brien with me and a few good novels. I’m also in the process of selling off half of my soul on eBay but it feels good. I just hope that the cheers stay as he continues into week two. I am not sure when I am ever going to get around to reading the like 300 paleontology/dinosaur-related books I own. You think I am kidding. Ha. I have an entire bookshelf that would have made Michael Crichton run away in a blind panic over the sheer metric volume of fact found within.

So I gave blood today – first time since January. It was pretty rough. I started back jogging after a week and a half of daily walking for at least 45 minutes. I found out that I am dehydrated, and that I would not be the best heroin addict during summer months. We started with my left arm and the vein’s wall denied the needle any blood, and so I am left with an ugly bruise on my inner arm. My right arm was more successful until three quarters of the way through when it decided to dry up. They had to shift the needle while it was still in my vein. Fun stuff. I passed out this afternoon as I was fully exhausted from the two hour process along with my afternoon errands. The good news is I found out that I am O+ (the most common blood type out there).

I’m currently reading William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies. It’s taking such a long time because every time I read a chapter in it I want to read more of J.D. Salinger’s Nine Stories or Raymond Carver’s Cathedrals. Next book in the cue is Jay McInerney’s first novel, Big City, Bright Lights.

Speaking of 1980s authors, has anyone noticed how we are fully in the retro mode this week with the public unveiling of a Ronald Reagan statue in the Capitol Rotunda. The seven-foot-tall statue could easily join the Orlando Magic tonight and help them win on the road versus the Lakers.

Nancy Reagan at the public unveiling of the Ronald Reagan statue in the Capitol Rotunda in D.C.

Tonight I drive out to Raleigh to see The Decemberists in concert at the Raleigh Memorial Auditorium. I was about to see them my junior year when the concert was cancelled when one of the band members fell deathly ill. I am hoping the two year wait proves to be worth it (it will).

A new short story and poem should be up soon so keep your eyes open or just subscribe to my RSS feed. Finally, everyone do yourself a favor and see The Hangover this weekend. Raleigh/NCState alum Zach Galifanakis and Bradley Cooper (Wedding Crashers) prove just how spot on those Vegas commercials are.

 Print This Post

My son is in jail, Miami-Dade County jail. He faces a felony charge for heroin possession and a misdemeanor charge for possession of drug paraphernalia. This isn’t the first time he is in jail; maybe it won’t be the last. Addiction invaded our home in 1991. It slithered in and sat down at our dining room table, grew large and fat, fed on our misery, laughing, mocking us with its power. It claimed Jeff when he was a fourteen-year-old boy. I did everything I could think of to save my son, but in the end I could do nothing, not really, to extricate him or to free our family from addiction’s claw. If you love or care about an addict, you know this feeling of helplessness.”

“Stagli vicino [stay close in Italian].” Libby Cataldi confronts demons in Stay Close, her deeply personal account of her battle and frustrations with her son’s fourteen-year-addiction to heroin, alcohol, meth and other drugs. The book’s title is taken from advice the author received while staying in Italy. The director of a recovery community in San Patrignano explained that those affected by addiction should never sever their bonds of love with the addict – instead they should move in closer to give the support necessary for recovery.

Cataldi’s journey with her son’s addiction began when he was a child growing up in Calvert County, Maryland. Jeff, Libby eldest son, has always been adept at social networking. When skateboarding and alternative music took off during the late ‘80s-early ‘90s it was all Cataldi could do keep her son in the same neighborhood. After numerous incidents of getting caught with animal tranquilizers, Jeff began his double life. In some ways he was a normal teenager who went off to boarding school and loved his younger brother, Jeremy. In other respects he was a full-time partygoer who would stay up all weekend to go to raves and use drugs.

Jeff’s personal journey with drugs is not the main focus of the story; instead Libby offers a rare perspective of a betrayed mother. Her journal entries expand upon Jeff’s story with his personal account of certain events added for clarification and atonement.

The unflinchingly personal details of the story lay bare the inner workings of a mother who worked within the Maryland school system for thirty years, yet struggled to reign in her own son. The pressures and experiences mount until the final chapters when I found myself struggling to still love Jeff. The idea that his battle with drugs cost his family hundreds of thousands of dollars blows my mind. My own mother explained that if I were in Jeff’s shoes she would not have put up with me after I walked out of a couple rehabilitation clinics.

If there was one area I wish the book expanded on it was Jeff’s final rehabilitation. The final two chapters deemphasize the most pivotal decision in Jeff’s life. I was left with more than a few questions as to how Jeff changed and what he is up to now. While this was not a deal breaker it does leave the reader begging for more insight into the moment when an addict decides to turn the ship around.

Cataldi’s writing reveals the years of deceit and lies that made up her life. The inner turmoil that addiction brings is in full force here. It is said that for every one addict four other non-addicts are affected. Jeff painstaking worked with his mother to write this story, yet it is ultimately his mother’s to tell. If you have ever lost someone to addiction Cataldi’s story offers clues for coping. Fortunately, I have never developed any sort of substance addiction, but I feel like I am better prepared for the future having read Stay Close.

Rating:

I went to the 22nd Annual Reynolds High School sports banquet Monday evening in lieu of my father. My dad is presently full of mucus from trimming the English Ivy adorning the front of our abode. This is my sister’s senior year in high school and she was a member of the regional champion varsity field hockey team. Not bad for a mere goalie. The food wasn’t bad; I just wish I got a second slice of the lemon cake. It was touching to see the tribute ceremony for Matthew Gfeller who died after a brain injury at the start of the season.

I was studying abroad when my sister told me of Matthew’s death and I could sense how it affected her through Skype conversations and e-mails. Senior year is often made out to be the best year of your pre-adult life and the loss of Matthew as well as our close family friend, Cathy Skoog did little to diminish the bittersweetness of 2008. I only wish I had been around to comfort my family during the four months of my absence.

I am happy to say that I finished working on a short story I started before exams. I had the skeleton nearly completed but I couldn’t muster up a satisfactory ending. I fleshed out the story and will upload it as soon as I pick it apart and edit it. In the meantime I am making some great progress with my headlines for VCU. Whether they pick them apart or accept me I feel like I have made progress from where I was a year ago.

I have an interview for a summer internship at Wild Fire Ideas, a Winston-Salem ad agency on Thursday. If I manage to impress this will be my third internship. I have already stated that making $0 is fine by me if I am happy (I can sell crack or something).

I have completed Stay Close and I will be uploading the review shortly. My next book is the high school favorite Lord of the Flies by William Golding. I never read the book but it apparently shares many themes of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

I am planning to sell my Nintendo Wii this summer. I could use some cash and if anyone is in the market for a used system feel free to contact me. Otherwise I will post some eBay links.

Memorial weekend is upon us and I hope everyone manages to watch Christian Bale kick some Terminator ass. Part of me hopes that the success of this movie could save Fox’s Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. The rational old man inside of me knows that this is impossible. We are dealing with Fox.

Cheers all! Jump through a sprinkler on your front lawn or wear a sundress. Just make sure that whatever you do avoid wearing your Buddhist swastika t-shirt at all airports and bus stations this weekend.

 Print This Post

Last semester, I met a friend of my aunt who currently resides in Florence, Italy. I got into contact with her after my aunt shot me her e-mail address. She was the principal at my younger cousin’s high school in Maryland.  Sitting in the famous tourist restaurant, Trattoria Mario’s, sharing a Bistecca Fiorentina (Steak Florence-style) Libby Cataldi explained the premise of her first book.

Running through her Italian heritage and her child psychology background, Libby told me that her youngest son developed an addiction to heroin at around the age of 13. He was an addict for the better part of the next 14 years, managing to graduate college and get a prestigious job in New York City’s financial district. Libby Cataldi spent the past two years in Italy helping her son heal while enjoying the country that her own mother would not allow her to visit when she was younger (Italian immigrants to the United States during the 1920s-1940s view Italy as “the old country”).  Libby explained to me that drug rehabilitation centers in the United States let patients leave after a maximum of three months. In Italy, they demand a minimum of two years to fully change a person’s habits.

The book Stay Close is her son’s battle with his addiction and the depression Libby developed based on her “uselessness” towards helping her son. Libby worked with kids for the entirety of her professional career which lasted nearly 30 years. This book is the journal she kept during her son’s drug treatment with additional commentary provided by her son, Jeff Cataldi.

The book was released on Tuesday and I will have a review up when I finish. I’m sure that I won’t be able to recommend it to everyone, but just talking with her for an hour or so adds a deep layer of personal interest.

“I’m really thinking seriously about staying out here a little longer. I’ve sort of forgotten what New York and Camden look like and I’ve forgotten a lot of faces from there and I don’t know if I can face going back. I probably won’t stay here but I’ve been thinking about it. I’m dreading seeing those people who I called my friends. I’d rather stay out here and not, as you so often put it, ‘deal with it,’ y’know?”

The Los Angeles of Bret Easton Ellis is bronzed, hazy and smoke-filled. His New York is a cold, neon-lit nightclub. The characters that inhabit his numerous novels rarely fully explain their motives. Instead, Bret holds his audience captive through the sparseness of his writing. Typical themes of love get pushed aside in order to examine the angst found within our society.

The Informers is Bret Easton Ellis’s 1994 collection of short stories that further explores the motifs he set up in Less Than Zero and The Rules of Attraction. The thirteen stories contained within are full of drug use, 1980’s pop references, drifters and despair for tomorrow’ ills. There is a sense of primacy to his writing that is evident by the time this book was publishing.

The characters feel alien to the typical reader, but that is the point. They exist within a reality that at first seems very real, yet we don’t have access. In one story the protagonist is the front man for the group “Bryan Metro” attempting to re-launch his career undeterred by his destructive sexual habits. In another, a couple attempts to enjoys a date at the zoo despite the underlying tension hinted at between the two.

Perhaps, the best example of Ellis’s style of writing is the story “Letters from L.A.” The narrator takes the reader through the corruption of morality that generates the characters inhabiting his novels. One gets a sense of the desire to escape this environment but the lack of willpower preventing so.

Ellis’s is not a writer that everyone can enjoy. One will not find any tales of unrequited love or adventure here – only relationships that have weathered one too many gin and tonics and cocaine. The characters feel distant. Ellis focuses his attention on the chain of events rather than the actions that led to their creation. Fans of Hemmingway would be well-suited to read at least one of Ellis’s novels in order to see how far the genre has developed since his unfortunate demise. I would recommend reading Less Than Zero before sinking into The Informers in order to get the full flavor of the L.A. he has crafted. I would also recommend avoiding the new film of the same name at all costs until long into its HBO circulation.

Rating:

Drove up to Richmond for my interview at VCU. Hopefully, I find out in June that I can go to graduate school this fall. The interview (which wasn’t much of an interview) went well. Lazy Good Friday that turned into a me catching a does of the “book flu.” It is as if all of a sudden, I feel the desire to catch up on a world of literature. Music, sports and video games can now take a back seat to fiction. Short list of all new/used I picked up this weekend (Hopefully this means more book reviews in the future):

John Cheever – The Stories of John Cheever and Bullet Park

Phillip K. Dick – The Man in the High Castle

Bret Easton Ellis – The Informers and Lunar Park

Jeffrey Eugenides – The Virgin Suicides

F. Scott Fitzgerald – This Side of Paradise

Ernest Hemingway – Across the River and Into the Trees

Cormac McCarthy – All the Pretty Horses

Steve Martin – Shop Girl

Haruki Murakami – The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Kafka on the Shore

Tim O’Brien – The Things They Carried

Thomas Pynchon – Gravity’s Rainbow

Erich Maria Remarque – All Quiet On the Western Front

Phillip Roth – The Plot Against America

Mark Twain - The Prince and the Pauper and Life on the Mississippi

Virginia Woolf – Mrs. Dalloway

Now I am off to watch Steven Spielburg’s masterpiece (yeah, right) Amistad. Night.

Just got news that a new tome of 14 unpublished works by Kurt Vonnegut will be released this October 27. The book will be titled “Look at the Birdie.”

I bought Heller’s sequel to Catch-22 a year ago with the hopes it could exist within the same breath as the original. The subversive dark humor that characterizes the original gives was to a somber reflection on life in the eighties when you happen to be in your seventies. Big expectations for this one.