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"Handler, Daniel, author"
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Three masquerades
I See a Long Journey and On Ice, novellas Mr. Handler considers basically perfect, originally appeared with a third, Blessed Art Though, a story he considers to be in an entirely different tone. He felt that Friends in the Country from Ms. Ingalls later collection, THE END OF TRAGEDY, was a more natural companion to the two earlier works. The author happily agreed.I See a Long Journey introduces us to Flora who is induced by her husband, James, to take a vacation only because his chauffeur Michael, custodian of their persons and their purse, will accompany them. Things, as they so often do in Ingalls world, will go appalling awry.Friends in the Country wherein a young couple drive outside of London for a Friday dinner and find themselves trapped for the weekend in a manner that surpasses Stephen King, if not in outright horror then certainly in subtlety and suggestiveness.On Ice finds Beverley with her fiancâe at an elegant hotel where she is introduced to a grande dame whose funeral Beverleys convinced she had witnessed 10 years before.
Book
The Kitchen Sink-And Everything Else
'I HAVE READ that you can ripen a persimmon by wrapping it in foil and leaving it in the freezer overnight,\" Cheryl Mendelson writes, \"but I haven't tried this.\" Well, why hasn't she? Mendelson is the author of \"Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House,\" a new book on the domestic arts, which is astonishing in its scope and, puzzlingly, its complete lack of authority. The author is an attorney, philosophy professor and homemaker, a combination that one might think would make an intriguing book. She herself states that \"Home Comforts\" is about \"how a home works, not how it looks,\" promising a refreshing change from the glut of Martha Stewart and her lacy ilk. But Mendelson doesn't make good on her promise. She apparently has time on her hands to clean food debris out of her can opener using a clean toothbrush, but not to explain why one would want to do this, or to find out, say, if you can in fact ripen a persimmon by wrapping it in foil and leaving it in the \"Home Comforts\" takes a middle ground, comparable to Irma Rombauer's \"Joy of Cooking\" or John Berryman's \"Dream Songs,\" in which the author's tone gives us all the subtext we need. This is a disappointing choice from Mendelson, because domesticity is rooted in murky, primal forces that readers would appreciate having brought to light. All of us keep house, to some extent, but why, or even how, remains an impenetrable mystery. We might scrub every pot but leave dirty socks in a pile. We might painstakingly alphabetize books but leave the umbrella in the entryway where it has been drip-drying for nine days. We will justify our lapses with the excuses of busy lives, feminist pride or the fact that it might in fact rain tomorrow, but we can sense our own disorder, behind closet doors and deep within the crisper. We can sweep it under the rug, but we don't know why, or even, by the end of the paragraph, exactly what \"it\" is.
Newspaper Article
Hurry up and wait
This is the second volume in a new series of collaborations between artist Maira Kalman, writer Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket), and The Museum of Modern Art, New York. This time a whimsical collection of images captures people in motion--or not. In snapshots by some of the world's most celebrated photographers, some people stride forth, dash across streets, race on bicycles, and jump over puddles, while others form snaking lines, daydream on park benches, and linger on sidewalks with friends.
Book
TALKING WITH JUDITH MARTIN Oh, Behave
'CLUCKING is a lost art,\" Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners, says in her latest book. \"Remind Miss Manners to demonstrate it for you sometime.\" Since Newsday readers may never get the chance, this reporter took it upon himself to incite this disapproving sound by banging his soup spoon on his plate in a rude and irritating manner. Martin wiped the corner of her mouth with a plaid handkerchief she keeps tucked in her sleeve and then began to cluck. It was a quiet sound, but like other unlovely noises decried by the author - malfunctioning car alarms, say, or the click of call-waiting - it was more than capable of making one's blood run cold. This reporter stopped that nonsense with the spoon right away.
Newspaper Article