MY URBAN KVETCH

President's Conference, Day 2: Writers Discussing Tomorrow

[EDK note: Will be posting in sections--easier to write, and hopefully easier to read, too.]

A good moderator can make all the difference. Or would have, if we had had a good moderator. Still, the voices, including Jonathan Safran Foer, Nathan Englander (sporting the newer shorter hair, if any of you Englander fans are interested), and Nicole Krauss representing American writers; Erri DeLuca representing Italian Hebreophiles; and Araidi Naim and Yehudit Katzir on the Israeli side, were varied and worth hearing, even if the questions that they were answering weren't the most clearly phrased, and even if some of what the writers said smacked of literary elitism.

In answering the opening question, about the impact of an era in which everyone is internet writing, JSF noted that what bloggers do is not writing, comparing it to a painter who paints a wall rather than a piece of art. (Ouch.) "Literature is rareified and is meant to be," he said, noting that traditionally the most important art rises from the periphery. Krauss noted that there's no definition of the novel that any of us would agree on. The internet, she noted, is a superficial communication. "People don't expect it to be relevant for more than just a day." (Given the fact that I completely disagree with JSF and Krauss on the potential of the internet in terms of creating both worthwhile content and meaningful, sustainable connections--my presence in the room was proof that it can be done--I doubt I'll be invited to dinner at their place anytime soon.)

DeLuca and Naim spoke eloquently about their passion for the Hebrew language; DeLuca, an Italian, observed that "today's pogrom is against the shtetly of Israel," while Naim, an Israeli Arab talked about the worldwide trend that literature is rapidly becoming the work of editors, and not writers, as the business becomes more about what can make money. "The poet who wants to create poetry with depth. and meaning can't find an audience," he noted.

Katzir talked about the experience of writing and reading in the age of television, observing that children read books, and see them in their minds like movies.

Englander spoke of writing as a craft, and opined that if stories are well-crafted, they will resonate; "if literature is meant to die, it will die," he said, but noted that it's not likely. The pyramids stay relevant, he said, or they'd make them into malls. "The writer's obligation is only to story. If the goal is shaping other people, the writer's already corrupted." He later noted that fiction, done write, should resonate no matter where or when it's read--he cited his enjoyment of Voltaire as proof. "If fiction spoils, it's a problem. The soul of a story is not a conscious choice. It needs to be written in a primal way."

One moment of drama/dramatic irony: midway through the session, there was a power outage of both lights and microphones, plunging the panel into silent darkness, and causing an Israeli in my row to quip, "I guess not everything is illuminated."

Journeys and Transitions: An April Update

As we welcomed spring with taxes, cleaning, holidays and saying things like "I can't believe it's April already!" I had my eye already trained on summertime--not because it brings vacation during an academic year, or because I'm dying to sit on a beach somewhere. (My skin, in case you haven't noticed, does not tan.) But because I've been invited to participate in several special projects this summer that I think could really make an impact, I've had to make summer plans early. And since I already owed some people an update, I thought I'd share with the class.

April and May will mark a major transition for me: I've decided to leave the singles column at the Jewish Week (most recent column, "Spring Cleaning, Relationship-Style," is here--two more to go). This was an extremely difficult decision--to walk away from something that's been so much a part of my life for four years. It's often been a challenge to be the Lorax for single Jews, but it's always been a privilege. It was good for my ego, becoming the most minor of local Jewlebrities, and alternately encouraged and discouraged me to learn that the challenges I faced were also faced by others.

But it was a challenge for me personally, in my dating life, and when I was otherwise "off the clock," to not become the column. I faced the regular charge of trying to share enough personal insights so that the columns were meaningful, without giving too much (of myself or my emotions) away. I ended up watching reruns of late Season Six episodes of "Sex and the City," watching as Carrie grappled with identity within her column and how she insisted that she was her own entity, apart from the context in which people knew her. And I thought, well...sort of.

But after being seduced by the romance of--and moving her life to--Paris, Carrie was pursued by her past, and sucked back into it. A happy ending, most people thought. But I had always resented her ending--she went back to her old life, her old patterns, even the ones she'd identified as dysfunctional. I was not anxious to stand in her fictional, yet clearly uncomfortable shoes. I'm not entirely done with the subject--I'll keep writing about dating and relationships on JDatersAnonymous, and will likely use the experience in a longer, dare-we-say "book-length", venue someday--but the day-to-day focus of my writing will be elsewhere.

But wait...there's more.

Missed Mishpatim? Catch the 'cast

If you missed my presentation at the Skirball Center on Parshat Mishpatim, you can download the entire lecture (including the mini-community-theater feature) on iTunes or here at the Skirball website. Enjoy, and I look forward to your comments!

Video Battle: Striking Comedy Writers Strike Back

The Writers' Strike moves on, with some movement, maybe. But because comedy cannot be repressed by Scroogey McScrooge corporate fat cats, comedy writers must create. And therefore leads to this video battle...The Daily Show, vs. The Colbert Report. The Daily Show went with the traditional "fake news" format, against a backdrop of striking writers (who I'm sure were not paid as extras and therefore might want to strike for a portion of the nonexistent revenue, but I digress): And the Colbert Report went with a fictional "owner" of movie and TV studios, who explains why it's impossible to make money off the internet. (Hat tip to Leah Jones, whose friends made the video.)

The Week in Clips

Because I'm going to be busy most of Wednesday, I wanted to take this chance to post links to some other places where I've been writing these days--enjoy, and leave comments!

Looking for the Perfect...Shul (Jewish Week--new column!)

The Moment It Dawned On Me That Being Jewish Is Important (The Jewish Journal, L.A.)

Battle of the Beneficent Beverages (Jewlicious)

Amy Winehouse's Mom's Plea to Daughter (Beliefnet)

Your Season's Greetings: Too Generic? Or Too Personal? (Beliefnet)

You're An Old One, Mr. Grinch (Beliefnet)

Italian Priest Bans Red Bull Commercial (Beliefnet)

Could "Vacation" Be a Best Foreign Oscar Contender? (Beliefnet)

Follow the Brick Road to Central City: "TinMan" Revisits the Classic (Beliefnet)

From the Notebook

When I'm at events, I'm often taking notes even if I don't have an assignment to write a story for a particular venue. It's possible that, as a freelancer, I'll find a home for any emergent stories, and I know I can always find a home for it here...So here are some musings I wrote as I attended an awards ceremony from the National Jewish Book Council last month.

"So, read any good books lately?" is probably not the best pickup line to use here. Someone might think it's clever, but would I really want to be with someone with such low standards for humor?

I couldn't be an academic because I am not well-behaved. I mean, I know better than to make fun of speakers, and I'm decently behaved initially, until you peel back a layer with a joke or a person who raises an eyebrow in sarcasm and then I'm gone.

Are we people of the book, or the word? Is the word different from the book, and are books by definition limited by covers? Do the kids today, of USY conventions, of blogs and Facebook, and of Holy Land hookups, relate to Jewish literature? Who will be the bridge between the old and new guard of what passes for Jewish literature in the modern age?

Karaoke+Prayer=Jewish a cappella. Discuss.

When you honor someone with an award, they always say "I never expected to be honored." But in their heart of hearts, many artists do want recognition for their work even if they don't actively court it. I am a writer who thrives on comments. I write because it helps me cope with life's travails, or such as they are in my particular life, but I still want publication. I don't want words to exist only in a vacuum. I want success. And if I am ever lucky enough to garner honors, will I be honest enough to admit that I didn't expect to be honored, but that I definitely wanted to be.

But where does this quest for validation come from? Is this why I like LA, because validation--if only for parking--is available everywhere?

Is love for Israel a substitute for real love? Perhaps there's something called "relative Zionism," in which you're in love with Israel as long as you're in love with something else, whether it's a person, a job, or yourself. Maybe spirituality and ideology are contingent, to an extent, on pheromones.

Nuns love God instead of men. Priests (at least those living above the law) love God instead of women. It's a completely understandable cop-out, but it is a cop-out, nonetheless.

A: Oscar, Tony, Emmy, Nobel, Pulitzer

As Karnak might have put it, the answer is: Oscar, Tony, Emmy, Nobel and Pulitzer.

And the question is: Name five awards not received by Esther Kustanowitz this year.

Too bad. I thought I had a shot at the Pulitzer with my article about the Jews on the Upper West Side.

So much for the Jewish media conspiracy.

PresenText, Thursday night

You're all cordially invited to PresenTense's newest event, which examines the link between  technology, creativity and Jewish identity. The event, PresenText: The Art of New Jewish Media, is this Thursday, 1/25 at 8pm at the Bronfman Center at NYU.

PresenTense is a magazine that goes beyond the frontal presentation of articles and information, beyond the written page and beyond the internet, providing real-life, in-person opportunities for people to meet over creative projects. We've sponsored lectures and salons in New York, Chicago and Jerusalem, with other cities and events in the works, all toward expanding the global conversation on Jewish identity and creating a more diverse, eminently contemporary exploration of Jewish identity in the age of technology.

This event uses multiple media to reinterpret published pieces visually. For instance, in the photo that accompanies this post (see above right), the text of blogs piece I did for Issue Zero, which positioned the structure of blogging as a contemporary Talmud, is now laid out in a style reminiscent of an actual page of Talmud, complete with commentary along the sides. (You know, if a Talmud were written in English.)

RSVPs aren't required, but help (and can be addressed to me at esther@presentensemagazine.org). Feel free to forward the information to friends or colleagues. Hope to see you there!

Intimacy Intermezzo

I walk into Starbucks and take a seat, setting up my computer near an available outlet. Behind me, a couple sits at a table and ponders the state of their relationship and the slate of medications that they're currently on. The woman, an attractive Latina in her thirties, tries not to sniffle into her decaf skim macchiato, while her companion, a fortysomething man with wild, graying hair and strongly accented speech, makes excuses for his mental state.

He runs through the litany, one after another, in a cascade of whining so cliched that it seems like a mantra or a roadblock in a bad romantic comedy. He's not ready, he’s not mature, he likes her a lot and enjoys her company but isn’t ready to “take life serious.” She pleads meekly, barely audibly, to the man from whom she wants something more. She whispers, her pain muting her words. He prattles on, loud enough for us all to hear. I feel kind of bad listening, taking notes on their conflict, but I’m a student in the university of life; when a high-volume lesson comes along, I take notes, no matter where and when.

He soldiers on, "trying not to lie to her" and “trying not to be one of those people,” but that he can’t rise to the level that she wants. “Why can’t you just leave things the way they are? I’m immature. I never grew up. I can’t rise to the level. I won’t do it to you or to anyone else. I’m damaged goods. My parents screwed me up. I had bad parents. I’m bad news, I’m telling you. I don’t have the goods that can make you happy. I like your scarf.”

He recaps what he wants (to not be serious) and what she wants (a relationship) and notes that the two are incompatible. All the while, I eavesdrop on the attempted honesty and feel complicit in the deception. Every time he says "I’m not going to lie to you," the "honesty" of what comes next seems suspect.

"I enjoy your company," he says. "Let’s change the subject. Is anything good on TV tonight? " "CSI," she says, somewhat weakly. Meantime, I perform my own autopsy, on the conversation itself and on these two pathetic people—one incapable of connection, the other making a poor choice in her heart's pursuit. They transition from the serious to small talk about stores that have gone bankrupt and closed, despite the fact that they were a great addition to the neighborhood. After some deliberation over that most citycentric of conundra--where the original Original Ray's Pizza actually is--the two pulled up their conversational roots and took their leave of my living conversational laboratory.

As they walk out the front door and disappear into the throng of Saturday night dates on Broadway, I exhale as I intone, "Wow." I can't believe that they had such an intimate, personal, shoulda-been-private conversation in a public arena, at that decibel level. What circumstances could have led to that conversation in that space? I cannot imagine for the life of me making that choice...to reveal my soul to another is a choice I seldom make even when privacy is assured. But to engage in such self-exposition before the eyes and ears of my fellow daters and Saturday night dissertation writers is something I cannot understand. As a writer, I'm glad they were there, granting me an insight into the conversational reality of relationships that is absent from movies and TV dramas and plays.

And that's why I sit there, representing the writers--plugged into the outlets in the walls and plugged into the relationships of fellow citydwellers, our individual creativity ebbing and flowing in a collective as we look to the human parade before us to distract, inspire and spur us on as we continue to churn out the pages that we hope will--someday, to someone--make a difference.

Purim Limericks

(Inspired by YoYenta's comment here...I was going to post this on Jewlicious, but the damn WordPress isn't my friend today...)

You know the format...five lines (the rhyme scheme is A-A-B-B-A, for the English majors among you):

There once was a sexy young blogger
Who, on Purim, drank way too much lager
So she hurled up her nosh
('Twas a prune hamantash)
And ruined her shiny new gragger.

Or...

A girl who was once even-keel
Had too much to drink at the spiel
So she partied and graggered
And made out with some bloggers
And then ate a great Purim meal.

...and then she hurled.

No, these aren't autobiographically inspired portraits. Why do you ask? True, I did go to a kick-ass spiel last night (thanks to everyone who showed up, and sorry if I didn't get a chance to see you all, as I was sitting in the sound and lighting booth with the show's creator and director and the lighting guy), followed by a terrific young Jew party at a local club, but I barely drank, so the twice-aforementioned hurling did not happen to me. But it seemed like the tightness of the genre called for it.

Next year, I'll try a Purim poem unrestrained by the strictures of limerickdom. Until then, I hope you are all enjoying a happy Purim day...