Nom de Plume

Always a little bit behind the curve, I’ve finally gotten into podcasting. I had a cheapie 128 mb player, which didn’t hold very much, and finally ordered the Cowon iAudio U2. It came early this week and I love it. 1 gig holds a hell of a lot. So I’ve been podcasting everything from NPR’s Science Friday to stories from transom.org to various City Club talks. My personal favorite is the WGBH forum lecture series (and of those, check out David McCullough’s talk about his book 1776–it was fabulous.)

I listen to the player all the time: when I’m mowing the grass, walking the dog, cooking and cleaning. So it’s funny that Nicki, our next door neighbor, called me day before yesterday with an extra ticket to a Seattle Arts & Lectures event. Cynthia Ozick was to speak.

Off we zoomed to Benaroya Hall. The talk was pretty good; she spoke about the germ of the idea in novel writing. She was very funny, self-deprecating and witty. As Nicki pointed out on the way home, “She talks like she writes, which is very unusual.” I agreed. Never mind the fact that neither of us have read a thing by her. In any case, I enjoyed it thoroughly, and vowed to myself yet again that I will get out of the house and take advantage of the cultural events around me.

She read an excerpt of her latest book. It was enjoyable and I thought to myself that I would read it. Then, an audience member asked what her favorite contemporary novelists were. Without a pause, she said, “John Updike is marvellous. Philip Roth is so inventive.” And suddenly, I had less of a desire to read her work. Which is rubbish, I know, but I couldn’t help it.