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In a publication entitled City Living, you might expect words by and for people who love this city.
But there are also Seattle haters out there.
I know. I’ve seen them.
All the time I’ve been in Seattle (don’t ask), I’ve known two predominant kinds of Seattle haters:
1) White baby-boomers who rant that the city is too big, too loud, too tense, and too full of suspected “gang bangers” (i.e., nonwhite males younger than 40). These folk dream of having a McMansion-sized “cabin” on the Bainbridge shoreline, but would settle for a Skagit County farmhouse.
2) Men and women of prominent ego (of many races, though still usually white) who decree that this hick town doesn’t deserve their obvious greatness.
These denouncers almost always also rant that Seattle fails to sufficiently imitate New York, Los Angeles, and (especially) San Francisco, in criteria ranging from architecture to food.
These folk generally refuse the idea that people in cities other than NY/LA/SF can choose to run a city any differently. All which is not NY/LA/SF, by these folks’ definition, is automatically inferior.
Sometimes, these folk will expect me to casually agree with their putdowns. They’ll ask me what part of the East Coast I’m from. Then, before I can answer, they’ll tell me I obviously agree that this is just a cowtown full of hicks and don’t I want to get my butt back to the civilized world?
I tend to respond that the only thing “eastern” I’m from is the eastern shore of Puget Sound; that Seattle is a fascinating place brimming with ideas and personalities; and that we can do things our own way.
If these folk are still listening, they usually tell me that I’m obviously just kidding. (Which I’m not.)
This is the combination of hubris and willful ignorance depicted in Where’d You Go, Bernadette?, the highly publicized new novel by local transplant (and former Hollywood sitcom writer) Maria Semple.
The title character is a tried and true Seattle hater. She’s also a former elite Los Angeles architect, with a Microsoftie hubby and an above-average teenage daughter (and an outsourced “virtual assistant” in India). She lives a life of wealth and privilege; the daughter goes to an elite private school. The family’s even planning a vacation getaway to Antarctica.
But even with everything money can by, Bernadette’s not happy. And, like many unhappy people, she blames her unhappiness on the world around her.
When Bernadette disappears, as the novel’s title implies, the daughter tries to figure out what happened by reading the mom’s old diaries, letters, and emails.
It’s in these documents that Bernadette says what she might have been too polite to say in public. Particularly among Seattle’s well documented cult of niceness.
Among her complaints: Too many Craftsman bulgalows. Too many Canadians. Too many slow drivers. Too many wild blackberry bushes. Too many neurotic moms. Too many self-congratulatory “progressives.” And way too much politeness.
Or for the short version, this is a city unfit for the presence of someone as obviously superior as Bernadette.
But, to Semple, this attitude is merely a symptom of a larger disorder. It’s a stage in the character becoming estranged from the world in general, then dropping out of sight from even her family.
But in a missive revealed at the novel’s end, she announces a change of heart. Bernadette really loves Seattle after all. She loves the gray-wash winter skies, which “felt like God had lowered a silk parachute over us.”
Semple herself, according to interviews, had also been a Seattle hater. But, like Bernadette, she’s since changed her mind.
Semple says she wouldn’t write Bernadette’s vitriolic Seattle putdowns these days. Semple now loves the place.
Or at least that’s what she says in public.
You know, to be polite.
(Cross-posted with City Living.)
via upworthy.com
johncage.tonspur.at
Lying has become so ingrained into the conservatives’ national dialogue that they are now dangerously demagogic or, worse, severely unhinged. Blind rage at the election of Barack Obama has wrecked a once great political party. Its leaders have made so many deals with the devil in their almost pathological obsession with unseating Obama that they have pushed the GOP into its own version of political hell – unable to speak truths to their now-rabid and conspiracy-addled base and unable to right the party back onto a path of responsibility. Only through the disinfectant of defeat can the Republicans, and the two party system, be preserved.
Today’s historic-preservation outrage involves the Jefferson Park Golf Course clubhouse. It’s a magnificent structure, “homey” yet elegant, that’s served city residents for more than 75 years. The City wants to raze it to put up a new driving range. It’s rushing through a plan to deny landmark status to the building, in cahoots with the architects that are planning the redevelopment scheme.
via theatlanticwire.com
zoo atlanta via king-tv
seattle mariners via mynorthwest.com
craig hill, tacoma news tribune
maisonceleste.wordpress.com
A wealthy young white man who refuses to, for one second, consider what it must be like to be a woman, or a minority, or a member of the lower class, or old. A man whose words mean less than nothing.
For reasons known only to the Gods, I not only didn’t read David Guterson’s novel Ed King (Oedipus as a Seattle software mogul!) when it came out, I also didn’t notice last November, when it won a British lit magazine’s annual Bad Sex In Fiction award. Don’t be as ignorant as I was—check out an excerpt from the “winning” scene.
Elsewhere in randomosity:
geneticist.tumblr.com
theatlantic.com
Brown was already 40, and settled down in marriage with the future co-producer of Jaws, when her breakthrough book Sex and the Single Girl came out. It took the Age of the Pill for Brown’s simple message (sex is fun, for both genders, with or without a wedding ring!) to be considered major-publishing-house material.
(Imagine: Women sleeping around, and not only not heading toward certain doom but having good, clean, healthy fun!)
That led to a stint of over 32 years helming Cosmopolitan magazine.
In those pages, behind the cleavaged “Cosmo Girl” cover models, Brown forged a solid formula of libido and materialism mixed in with traditional women’s-mag fashion and self-help fare.
Whole books have been written about the world of Brown’s Cosmo, its influence, and its contradictions (independence/man-pleasing, confidence/size-ism).
I’ll just say it’s hard to imagine the First Avenue bar scene, with its gaggles of high heeled, well heeled young ladies out for FUN, without Brown’s aesthetic and social vision showing the way.
pitchfork media via cartoonbrew.com
The third most famous band from Aberdeen, the Melvins, talk about their “disastrous” first tour, accompanied by appropriately simple Flash animation. (The second most famous band from Aberdeen, of course, is Metal Church.)
nytimes.com via nytsyn.com
perfect sound forever, via furious.com
An earlier version misstated the term Mr. Vidal called William F. Buckley Jr. in a debate. It was crypto-Nazi, not crypto-fascist.