New & Notable
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Things have gotten far too speed. Milwaukee, Iowa City, Minneapolis … I am beginning to lose track to time and space. I am also feeling good people begin to slip through my fingers. At Micawber’s bookstore, I had the briefest glimpses of two gems: Hans, the bookstore manager, and Patty, Peggy from Milwaukee’s sister. Instead of proper conversations, though, I was left with the fumes of rushed words, the melancholy feeling that I should have gotten to know them, and a probably a dozen other people better …
Of course, it must be said that I was utterly spoiled here too. My old friend from Paris. Rachel, who I met at Shakespeare, is here. She is now a surging star in the burlesque world with her Lily Vanderloo character and will soon captivate the world now that she is touring solo. (She used to be the shining light of the Atomic Bombshells. Kind Rachel gave me shelter for the night, made me sweet tea and fed me sugared rose petals and fresh-baked corn bread and … and … and … well, once again I am amazed that I have so many brilliant and loving friends.
The wonders of Iowa
I must admit, Iowa City was one of the stops I was especially looking forward to. Prairie Lights is a universally renowned independent bookstore and, because of the writers’ workshop, the city is a legend among literati. The bookstore lived up to all expectations – the people, the vibe, the boosk. It was also a flattering event as it was broadcast live on Iowa NPR and filmed for the University of Iowa television station. The only sad part is that I didn’t get any photos because I rushed out of the store when I was done because there was this eerie madman in the audience who insisted that Enron had put out a 35-million dollar hit on him and he really wanted to discuss this with me.
Instead, I have photos of a really impressive cafe near the bookstore that served drip coffee; bar bathroom graffiti that you only find in a town of writers; and this great statue that was outside of the Cedar Rapids Public library. It will have to suffice until my next visit to Prairie lights …
Posted in New & Notable, Waystations | Leave a commentI love Bill Clinton
I think the Dooleys and I should be the model for modern political discourse. The Dooleys are diehard Republicans, Peggy even having worked for Tommy Thompson for a spell when he was Wisconsin governor. I, of course, think the Democrats are a more compassionate right wing party but yearn for a true socialist alternative in the United States. Yet despite this divide, we can discuss politics and eat our fish fries with out a single harsh word or thrown chunk of cod.
The Dooleys were even kind enough to take me to Katie’s Diner where President Bill Clinton and German Chancellor Helmut Kohl at lunch back in 1996. I was one of the many millions who were charmed and inspired by Clinton (I even drove down to Hope, Arkansas with my parents’ dog Britty a few weeks after the 1996 election.) And I am also one of a smaller group who wasn’t completely disappointed by his White House passions. (Yes, he lied, but to protect his family, and I believe a President should have a fuller understanding of human temptations. I would respect George W. Bush a lot more if he had admitted to his cocaine use and told the nation that he knew first-hand why this is such a corrosive drug.)
When Clinton came to Milwaukee, the secret service chose Katie’s for its authenticity and its security-friendly location. Lots of space for a helicopter to land in case an evacuation was necessary, mirrored windows so snipers couldn’t see where Clinton was sitting, and on a ridge above industrial Milwaukee for perfect surveillance. Everyone at Katie’s loved Bill and even if the Dooleys grimaced every time I said I hoped the Man From Hope would become First Man in 2008, they were good sports. We got to sit at Clinton’s table and Mom Dooley got to sit where Bill sat, complete with her Milwaukee special of a Bloody Caesar with a beer chaser.
Posted in New & Notable, Waystations | Leave a commentHarry Schwartz
Have you ever watched a beauty pageant and fallen more deeply in love with each successive candidate? Miss Haiti, she’s the woman of my dreams. No, wait, it’s Miss Denmark. Wait, wait, no, it’s Miss Greece. That’s kind of what it’s like to do a tour of independent bookstores. Each one is so utterly complex and enchanting that you are sure it’s the best one ever … until the next one comes along. 
So, needless to say, I am now infatuated with Harry Schwartz in Milwaukee. Very good people at the store, notably Jay, the writer/event coordinator just returned from New York City (pictured alongside the Schwartz sandwich board. Great books. And a really animated audience. (Perhaps my appearance on the ‘Milwaukee Midweek’ radio program filled the seats with more attentive bums.)
What is also energizing is that because my book is about France and everyone is still buzzing about the burning car phenomenon, at Harry Schwartz I was asked questions about current affairs. This allowed me to jump up on my soapbox, which is really my favourite thing to do in life. My spiel? France has been pretty smug, using its honourable anti-war stance to blindly ridicule all things American, so it is something of a relief to see the country knocked into the mud. France is an utter failure at giving its immigrant and lower classes opportunities to climb the social and economic ladder. As an outsider, I’m not affected by this inherent class-ism, but for my French friends who weren’t lucky enough to be born into a middle or upper class family, there is nowhere near the same cultural openness or upward mobility that you find in Canada or the United States.
What France needs is a 20-year program that invests heavily in education, most importantly, an education relevant to its new population. My friend Nadia is a teacher at a lycee and she is continually horrified that the French culture that is taught is still the lily white, overly romanticized tradition of Voltaire and Balzac with nothing to represent the reality of the five million Magrebian immigrants or any other French subculture. The thing the government needs to do is take a long term perspective so that those born in the French ghettos in 2010 arrive at the age of 15 with hope and optimism, not utter despair and bitterness. As I said at Harry Schwartz, if I had been born in St. Denis and given no hope or help, I would have been setting cars on fire too.
Posted in New & Notable, Waystations | Leave a commentFrozen Custard
At least three times I was told that when in Milwaukee I must try the frozen custard. Sure, I said, why not. But little did I imagine it would be such a profound experience.
The most renowned frozen custard stand in Milwaukee is a place called Kopp’s. As we drove up, my wonderful host in Milwaukee, Peggy Dooley, explained to me the incredible history of Kopp’s. It was the inspiration for Arnold’s in the classic television series ‘Happy Days.’ This opened my eyes to the entire hardcore Milwaukee sitcom scene: Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, Joanie Loves Chachie were all based in ‘a great city by a great lake’. (This is Milwaukee’s old city motto.), Even Mork & Mindy started here when Mork was a subplot for Happy Days. (An alien as a subplot? As Peggy says, it was late in the series and the writers were clearly desperate for ideas when they decided to mingle the Fonz with an alien..) In any case, it seems for a while there, Milwaukee was the epicentre of television comedy.
The frozen custard? Sublime. I had the Grasshopper Fudge, Peggy had the Butter Brickle, and as Kopp’s offers a ‘flavour of the day’, I intend to visit every day of my Milwaukee stay.
The Winnetka Bookstall
The drive north from Chicago was charm in a car. For once, I forsook (forsaked?) MapQuest and decided to just drive along Lake Michigan. I was rewarded with a tour of Chicago’s mansioned suburbs and constant views of dusk over water though a 20-minute drive turned into a one-hour-and-forty-minute drive after repeatedly getting lost those suburbs …
Winnetka is one such suburb and the Book Stall is a well-thought-of independent bookstore in the heart of it. The reading went well, even though I was head-to-head with the author James Morris and his book about churches. The best part was a woman in the audience who had once lived in Big Sur, met Henry Miller and attended Anais Nin’s funeral. She has plenty of archives and if all goes well, I shall get to thumb through them in the near future.
Photo: Jay of Bookstall fame …
