It’s always fun to see how you look in foreign attire. And George Lucas looks pretty good in Czech.
It’s always fun to see how you look in foreign attire. And George Lucas looks pretty good in Czech.
Still miss having Jim Henson on your Kindle? You’re in luck: it’s on sale at Amazon right now for $1.99. This offer won’t last long, as the saying goes — in fact, it might only be for today only. Grab it while you can! Or not. I’m not the boss of you.
If you’re a Muppet fan, chances are you’re already anxiously awaiting the release of Muppet Guys Talking, Frank Oz’s documentary of . . . well, Muppet guys talking about life, art, and working with Jim Henson. And who are the Muppet Guys? They’re Frank Oz, Jerry Nelson, Fran Brill, Dave Goelz, and Bill Barretta. More information — including how you can watch the documentary when it’s released later this week — is available over on muppetguystalking.com. Go.
While you wait, you might also wanna check out this really wonderful interview with Frank Oz, conducted by those savvy fellas over at Tough Pigs. And I’ve gotta admit: I’m thrilled to be on the receiving end of some first-rate Frank Oz ballbreaking:
NOTE: I actually love Paul McCartney.
This is me lecturing on Jim Henson last week — I had to step in when a regularly-scheduled lecturer was taken ill.
One is truly never really out from under the gaze of Ernie and Bert.
I’m sitting in the San Diego Airport, waiting for my flight back to Baltimore, which has already been announced as an hour late. Vacation? Nope. I’ve been in San Diego for the last ten days, doing research on Dr. Seuss, since his archives are held at the Geisel Library (see the connection?) at the University of California at San Diego.
It’s been a good trip. I couldn’t dig into all of the archival files I wanted; apart from sheer time limitations, some of the Seuss-related materials remain tantalizingly restricted, which — while it leaves those of us who love research going Oooooooo, I wonder what’s in there? — isn’t necessarily unusual (at Dartmouth, for example, materials relating to financial transactions or donations were also restricted). But I still got my hands on lots and lots and lots of great stuff, and I’m grateful for the assistance of the library archivists, who willingly lugged in box after box and always cheerfully promised to check on the status of just ONE more! box or folder for me.
I also had the opportunity to talk with one of Ted’s friends, in a home perched high atop Mount Soledad with a stunning view of the Pacific. Not bad. San Diego and La Jolla are a pretty nice place to be in January — especially as I’m flying head first into a swirling winter storm back east, which may be one reason why my flight is already delayed.
Here’s a look at the exterior of the Geisel Library. While Ted didn’t have anything to do with the architectural design of the building, it certainly looks like a library where he’d want to store his papers, doesn’t it?
Once inside, this is the entrance to the archives, with your way marked by a quote from The Lorax.
This is the view from inside the fishbowl. I was the only researcher in the room the entire week–and while photography of materials isn’t permitted, I don’t think they’ll mind a shot of the workspace. If you look just to the left of the glass door, you’ll see the tops of two rolling carts, each containing archival boxes. Those are the materials I was working from.
As I mentioned, I wasn’t permitted to take photos of any of the materials in the collection (policies vary from place to place — I could photograph materials at Columbia and at Dartmouth, for instance). But UCSD is still very generous about giving the public a look at some of what they’ve got on hand, and keeps a regular display of materials moving through cases just outside the archival doors. At the moment, there’s an original typewritten manuscript of the text from Green Eggs and Ham on view . . .
. . . as well as this really gorgeous original art from Horton Hatches The Egg!
Just as there was in Springfield, there’s a statue outside the library of Ted with the Cat in the Hat (and for some reason, it looked particularly great in the rain).
So long, Geisel Library, and so long San Diego and La Jolla. You were lovely.
This is kinda fun: on a bookshelf in my office — it’s actually a wooden crate at the base of my desk — I like to keep every edition of the three books I’ve had published over the last decade. For Washington Irving, that meant I had it in hardcover and softcover. For Jim Henson, apart from the U.S. hardcover and paperback, there was a UK edition, a Polish edition, and an audiobook — the first time I have ever had an audiobook of my work, and I gotta admit, I still get a bit weepy listening to Kirby Hayborne read the heck out of it.
George Lucas, however, has made it into a few more foreign markets. Apart from the U.S., UK/Australian editions and the audiobook, it’s also available — so far — in Italian, German, French, Portuguese, Spanish, Finnish, and Polish. While there can sometimes be cover or artwork variations on the foreign versions, for the most part, the overall look and feel of the U.S. version of George Lucas remains intact — a testament to the beautiful design work by the folks at Little, Brown.
If you’re a foreign reader of George Lucas, let me sincerely say Grazie. Kiitos. Je nous remercie. Vielen Dank. Obrigado. Dziekuje Ci. Gracias.
If you’re in or around the Washington, DC area on Wednesday night, you should come by the University Club of DC for its 28th annual Meet the Author Night & Book Fair. More than 65 authors will be there — including yours truly, where I’ll be sitting behind a pile of the newly-printed George Lucas paperbacks.
The University Club of DC is located in a really impressive building at 1135 16th Street N.W., right off Sakharov Plaza. For more information about the book fair, and the club itself, you can check things out at www.universityclubdc.com.
I spent the better part of this past week in New York City, doing research on Dr. Seuss at the Rare Book and Manuscript Reading Room at Columbia University. The Butler Library at Columbia holds the papers of Random House — as well as those of its co-founder, Bennett Cerf — which has published every Dr. Seuss book since 1939. Before that, Dr, Seuss was published by Vanguard, a company Random House then-president Bob Bernstein made a point of acquiring in 1988, largely to ensure Random House would own all of Dr. Seuss’s books. How do I know that? This past week I also interviewed Bob Bernstein–still spry at 94-years-old, and full of lots of interesting stories, some of which had to do with Dr. Seuss, some of which didn’t. The man has lived a pretty incredible life (his Wikipedia entry barely scratches the surface).
Archival research is one of the foundations of biography–and for some of us, it’s the really fun part as well. These are the nuts and bolts that help biographers do what we like to do: it’s just you, a laptop, pencil and paper (ink pens are usually prohibited in an archive), and one archival box after another.
How’d I get here?
Let’s start here, with the rather imposing-looking Butler Library. It sits on the south side of the commons at Columbia University, a hop-skip-and-jump from the 116th Street subway stop on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.
Once inside, the Rare Book and Manuscript Reading Room sits on the 6th floor, behind glass doors that make the place feel somewhat hermetically sealed. Outside the reading room, you’ll be required to check your backpack, briefcase, jacket . . . anything with pockets or hidey-holes where documents might be smuggled out (think I’m being dramatic? The National Archives begs to differ).
I had e-mailed the archives in advance with my request for the archival boxes I wanted to look through — they were all stored off-site, and needed to brought to the reading room for me to use, which is why researchers should always check in advance on the mechanics of the research at any archive they might be visiting. Archivists are your friend, no doubt — heck, they want to help people use their resources — and they’re also some of the unsung heroes of history and biography, pointing researchers in the right direction when we’ve stumbled into archival dead ends, or even directing us to other archives that might be of use. The archivist I had corresponded with, Karla Nielsen, was helpful and enthusiastic, patiently walking me through nearly every step of the front-end of the process, including locating and then navigating the library’s lengthy “Finding Aid” for the collection. Because of her help, I had no doubt that everything I’d asked for would be there waiting for me.
Once you’re ready to sit down and do your research, it’s a little like entering a fishbowl as you take your seat inside the main reading area — another glassed-in room, where you’ll present your credentials to the librarian, who will then have your archival boxes brought to you one- or two-at-a-time. I sat at one of the wooden tables about three rows back, directly behind several other researchers who were just as intently going through their archival boxes.
Sometimes, as you’re on your way to your own relevant documents, you come across other files you might be itching to explore, given more time. Often, the unopened files can be as tantalizing as those you opened or looked through. For example, the file for Dr. Seuss’s early book The Seven Lady Godivas was filed alphabetically under this real name (Theodor “Ted” Geisel), which put it directly in front of the file for Nobelist Andre Gide. Pretty neat. And no, I didn’t open it. THERE WAS NO TIME.
I went through my boxes slowly, taking notes both on my laptop and in my notebook. But one of the great benefits of the iPhone age is that many archives will permit you to photograph your documents with a digital camera, just so long as the flash is off. Once I get back home, I download and print out every document and file it in black binders for reference — but the cellphone photo policy is a real boon to biographers and historians (and anyone who thrives on documentation, really) as it permits us to have copies of much-needed documents — and not just our own written description of them — on hand at any time, (I’m sure they won’t begrudge me reproducing just this signature from a little snippet of one memo, part of an ongoing string of letters between Ted and Random House president Bob Bernstein about a French translation of The Cat in the Hat Dictionary.)
Anyway, this is the “laws and sausage” side of producing a biography. And there’s still a long way to go before it’s even close to ready to land in your hands.
The Finnish version of George Lucas is now available . . . in Finland, at least.
And yes, the book is finished. Don’t start.