Reading CAN help your writing

Time Out Bengaluru, in my opinion, is the best "local" magazine in the city, for the writing, the editing, the headlines... the ideas! Take this review of the Zeus Sports Bar on Brigade Road in the latest issue.

Read the intro:

Manohar Crest is no Mount Olympus. If you’re in this building on Brigade Road, you will not, like Zeus, be able to cast your eyes upon lands far and wide, watching as Hades makes off with the white-armed Persephone. You might, however, spot someone barely escaping the maws of death – or the left front wheel of a BMTC bus, as Bangalore calls it – near St Patrick’s Complex.

The reviewer, Kankshi Mehta, knows a thing or two about Greek mythology so she's able to add that divine line about Zeus, and Hades, and Persephone. Isn't that clever?

Continue reading and you'll see more Grecian references, including this one:

And now, onto the food. If you’re a vegetarian… well, there really is only one way to put this, and in order to do so, one must turn one's attention to a scene from that iconic insertion of Greek mannerisms into popular culture, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Here, Toula Portokalos’s suitor, a vegetarian, is being introduced to the family, and this is what transpires: Toula: “He doesn’t eat meat.” Aunt Voula: “What do you mean he don’t eat no meat?” Stunned silence in the room. Aunt Voula; “Oh, that’s okay. I make lamb.” Okay, it’s not that bad, but still, vegetarians get slim pickings at this bar.

And the flourish at the end:

Opa!

Here is a definition of opa:  A Greek word that may be used as an ‘exclamation’, or ‘utterance’, or ‘declaration’, or ‘affirmation’ or a lovingly gentle way of telling you to ‘Stop’ ... depending on the situational context. It is a word or pronouncement of celebration; the celebration of life itself.

Kankshi Mehta is one well-read journalist who's also well-versed in popular culture and what a difference it makes! Agree?

• Also read: "If you don't read, you can't write".

Time Out's reviews are always...

...something special. Read this one of a bar in Bangalore called B-11 and tell me why I think it's a very clever piece of writing.

A fine example of long-form journalism from a great magazine

From Esquire:

It has been nearly four years since Roger Ebert lost his lower jaw and his ability to speak. Now television's most famous movie critic is rarely seen and never heard, but his words have never stopped.

***

Roger Ebert is a world-famous movie critic and his recommendations are looked forward to eagerly by film buffs. In this article, Esquire looks at how he continues to watch and critique films though he can't talk, eat, or drink. This is a terrific piece of writing and also a great human interest story.

Here are some interesting excerpts (though you should read the whole article; the photographs are very special, too):

Roger Ebert can’t remember the last thing he ate. He can't remember the last thing he drank, either, or the last thing he said. Of course, those things existed; those lasts happened. They just didn't happen with enough warning for him to have bothered committing them to memory — it wasn't as though he sat down, knowingly, to his last supper or last cup of coffee or to whisper a last word into Chaz's ear. The doctors told him they were going to give him back his ability to eat, drink, and talk. But the doctors were wrong, weren't they? On some morning or afternoon or evening, sometime in 2006, Ebert took his last bite and sip, and he spoke his last word.

**

He calls up a journal entry to elaborate, because it's more efficient and time is precious:

When I am writing my problems become invisible and I am the same person I always was. All is well. I am as I should be.

He is a wonderful writer, and today he is producing the best work of his life. In 1975 he became the first film critic to win the Pulitzer prize, but his TV fame saw most of his fans, at least those outside Chicago, forget that he was a writer if they ever did know.

**

But now everything he says must be written, either first on his laptop and funneled through speakers or, as he usually prefers, on some kind of paper. His new life is lived through Times New Roman and chicken scratch. So many words, so much writing — it's like a kind of explosion is taking place on the second floor of his brownstone. It's not the food or the drink he worries about anymore — I went thru a period when I obsessed about root beer + Steak + Shake malts, he writes on a blue Post-it note — but how many more words he can get out in the time he has left. In this living room, lined with thousands more books, words are the single most valuable thing in the world. They are gold bricks. Here idle chatter doesn't exist; that would be like lighting cigars with hundred-dollar bills. Here there are only sentences and paragraphs divided by section breaks. Every word has meaning.

• Thanks to Anjali Muthanna (Class of 2006) for the tip-off.

PS: In September 2010, Roger Ebert reviewed I'm Still Here, the documentary on self-destructing Hollywood star Joaquin Phoenix. Read the review and you will marvel at Ebert's powers of description and his clear-headed view of everything that's wrong with Phoenix's life:

 One doubts he will be walking the red carpet if the film has a premiere. It documents a train wreck. A luxury train. One carrying Phoenix, his several personal assistants, his agent, his publicist, and apparently not one single friend who isn't on salary. A train that flies off the tracks and tumbles into the abyss.

Phoenix comes across as a narcissist interested only in himself. He is bored with acting. He was only a puppet. He can no longer stand where he's told, wear what he's given, say what is written. It's not him. He has lost contact with his inner self. He allows that true self to emerge here as a fearsomely bearded, deliberately shabby chain-smoking egotist who screams at his patient assistants, blames himself on everyone else, and has deluded himself into thinking that there is a future in his dreadful hip-hop lyrics.

Read the review in its entirety here: I'm Still Here.

The best review I have read of "Angels And Demons"

And it has an intro to be savoured:

Since “Angels & Demons” takes place mainly in the Vatican, and is festooned with the rites and ornaments of Roman Catholicism, I might as well begin with a confession. I have not read the novel by Dan Brown on which this film (directed, like its predecessor, “The Da Vinci Code,” by Ron Howard) is based. I have come to believe that to do so would be a sin against my faith, not in the Church of Rome but in the English language, a noble and beleaguered institution against which Mr. Brown practices vile and unspeakable blasphemy.

Enjoy the review by NYT's A.O. Scott in full here.