...in this space tomorrow, it's because I have the kind of sinus pain that's so weirdly knifelike and severe that I went to the dentist thinking that one of my rear molars must be disintegrating from the root. Nope. The wombat teeth are fine (although I just got the news that wombats are fat and ugly -- scroll down to the very latest entry to get the full story from someone named Nate), and I've seen the x-rays that prove it. It's all about this unshakeable cold and the strange new consequences of infection for which my body has, over the past few months, proven to be some kind of microbial proving ground.

By the way, it is possible to tell the sensation of watching George Bush trot out a bunch of half-truths on national television with an air of aggrieved hardworking-dad authority from the sensation of an overpressured maxillary sinus cavity pressing down like a boot on the nerve just above your right rear molar. But it requires a little work.

Incidentally, pain of all kind is relieved by the music of Metropolitan. Yeah, OK, my head still hurts while I'm listening to "Pakistan International." But I feel better about it.

Another truth-is-better-than-fiction headline.

I know we did an "April" edition already, but what the hell.

A Gallic gentleman that history records as M. Bouin published it in Les Amusements d'une Heure et Demy in Paris in 1761. Later, it appeared in various places in a more fleshed-out form, titled variously "Le Faux Pas," and, later, "Les Amours de Silvandre."

In 1795, the work appeared in New York, transformed into "The Delights of Wedded Love." A much more enduring version was copyrighted in 1834, by an under-celebrated genius named Bradlee.

What did M. Bouin introduce to the world in his publication?

First correct answer to comments wins a medium-sized ottoman constructed entirely from unsolicited Smith & Noble catalogs and packing tape. No Googling or calling up the now-infallible Pope Benedict XVI. One guess per comment, please, but you may comment as frequently as the spirit moves you.

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: After a four-month search for the appropriate Grand Prize for last year's Quizvitational, we've finally found it. Photos to be posted shortly, hopefully including some pictorial record of our victor's recipient of this unique treasure.

A little while ago I had cause to thank regular commentor/contributor G. Edwards for the loan of his copy of David Mitchell's engrossing Cloud Atlas.

There's a nice little essay by Mitchell in the Guardian about the genesis of the novel. Apparently it's a bit of a rewrite of an essay which previously appeared on ReadySteadyBook.com, a site I really should check in at more often.

A few odds and ends which I'd just as soon stick in one post....

Zinger

Here at work we've been immersed in the bookselling fall-out of the new papal order. I'm partial, for some reason, to this cover, though the text is sadly out of print.

If, like me, you're a non-Catholic with a keen sense of the absurdity of an infidel caring all that much about who gets to ride in the Popemobile -- and who yet can't help but acknowledge the global effect the institution grants to one guy, you may be interested in Jack Miles's take on Ratzinger at Slate or -- more direly -- Michael Novak's cheering on of a hoped-for culture war "to preserve free societies from their own internal dangers" (N.B.: This article appeared on the Op-Ed pages of today's Times, but the American Enterprise Institute site doesn't require registration, and after all, gives you lots of linkage to Novak's other articles, should you want them).

Finally, I found this Washington Post headline wonderful.

Belles Lettres

Meanwhile, I've been trying to read some new fiction and I've been desperate to come up with some other strong recommendations for this page. But no luck. One sequel to a book I liked, one multiple literary-award-winner, and one book that has become a critical flashpoint. The sequel a severe disappointment (and making me question what I enjoyed in Part One), the award-winner feeling more like a chore than I expected, and the last one so obscured by the hooraw around it that I can't tell if my feelings about the book as I read-- a profound neutrality -- isn't just a manifestation of my inability to experience the book for its own sake.

Which says lots about how maybe all of this metatextual crap just gets in the way of the books (so why do I like reading Beatrix so much?). Anyway, I will try to have some enthusiastic recommendations up again soon.

Overdue Appreciations

My pal Sheri Holman, incidentally, is the hardest-working writer in the literary biz. Her novels are so well-researched that somebody ought to have given her a couple of history degrees, at least. They are also terrific, real triumphs of storytelling and fully realized characters. Her most recent, The Mammoth Cheese, was a departure for her as it's set in the the present day, rather than in the past, but it's anchored in as much deeply-thought-about history as her previous work has been.

It's finally getting some well-deserved recognition.

They Evict Horses, Don't They?

On this past Sunday evening, in the gloriously warm dusk, we followed a string of horses out of Prospect Park and through a set of intersections which looked like unlikely routes for equestrian exercise. But that's because the stables from which the riders in the Park come are located in a tucked-away little corner of Kensington that looks more like a place you'd find auto parts places for your Mustang than a place to saddle a pony. Helena got to go inside and visit with the animals she's now increasingly fascinated with when we go for a stroll or a jog in the park.

Today's paper had bad news for our future pony-petting prospects...

The recent quietude around here notwithstanding, some changes are afoot. Okay, really they're achair, often acouch, and they spent most of this week abed. But they should be in evidence soon.

But while the same worn Wombat-visage confronts you this morning as has on many Fridays past, today I preface our end-of-week query with a brief anecdote. A word of caution: the delicate-minded may wish to turn to their daily perusal of Gracious Home rather than proceed with us down into the depths of human depravity.

A few weeks ago at my place of employ, I witnessed what was to me a surprising new invasion of the cell phone into a space previously held sacred: the men's room. A man entered as I was departing, phone to ear, and didn't seem inclined to finish his call any time soon. I left, appropriately mortified for his interlocutor, before I could see whether he got off the call soon after or maintained the connection during his sojourn.

A similar episode yesterday -- in which all those coming in and out of the restroom were treated to one side of a cell conversation carried on by a gentleman in long-term occupation of a stall -- confirmed in my mind that we have either (1) one particularly egregious flouter of an unspoken but commonly held point of etiquette, or (2) multiple offenders, and therefore evidence of a noxious sea-change in our already lax phone-manners standards.

So, this prompts our Friday Question -- not about lavatories and wireless communication specifically, but calling out the tut-tutting old biddy in every one of us:

What new evidence of a downturn in manners, civility, graciousness etc., has most shocked you? Or, conversely, what insanely persnickety enforcement of etiquette has most perturbed you?

In our currently flip-flopped and wearing-sweats-to-the-store nation, I presume that there isn't much of the latter, but perhaps that means I am just becoming more and more Mr. French-ified every day.

Your answers, stories, plaints, and rants to comments, please...

This excerpt from an article on Michael Chabon, truth, fiction, and the Holocaust, is tantalizing.

In the spirit of Matt Groening's Forbidden Words, I hereby forbid the following modifiers from all promotional and book-blurb copy that I write in the next 12 months:

moving
luminous
evocative
stunning
richly
brilliant
nail-biting
lofty
unforgettable
tender
vibrant

Also going out the door: the phrasing "that will change (his/her/their/its) lives forever."

Note to self: there is no way in hell you are going to pull this off.

In a way, you're ALL winners -- just for playing along. In another way, none of you are. For those of you who give the proverbial rat's ass, the following is a sheep/goats separation, with asterisks noting the inspirations for the altered titles.

Vibrational Medicine
The Pumped-Up Pirate*
What Would Jesus Eat?
Alien Log
Dead Witch Walking
Ungrateful in Death*
Strawberry Shortcake & Friends Celebrate Earth Day!*
If Men are Like Viruses, then How do I Catch One?*
The Care and Feeding of Navy SEALS*
The Good, the Bad, and the Undead
"Love Is..." Collectibles Authorized Handbook and Price Guide*
Impertinent Wench*
Bamboo & Lace
She-lings: Understanding a Woman's Emotional Storms*
Planet Keepers Vol. 1: Checkmating Aliens
They Called Her Mrs. Doc
The Smoothieman's Power of Smoothies Diet*
Menage a Magick
Sisterchicks in Sombreros

Does it surprise anyone that this whole misbegotten exercise in "humor" was generated by my stumbling across Alien Log and having an extended Beavis/Butthead moment?

Today's calendar-appropriate exercise asks you to take a look at the list of book titles below --

Vibrational Medicine
The Pumped-Up Pirate
What Would Jesus Eat?
Alien Log
Dead Witch Walking
Ungrateful in Death
Strawberry Shortcake & Friends Celebrate Earth Day!
If Men are Like Viruses, then How do I Catch One?
The Care and Feeding of Navy SEALS
The Good, the Bad, and the Undead
"Love Is..." Collectibles Authorized Handbook and Price Guide
Impertinent Wench
Bamboo & Lace
She-lings: Understanding a Woman's Emotional Storms
Planet Keepers Vol. 1: Checkmating Aliens
They Called Her Mrs. Doc
The Smoothieman's Power of Smoothies Diet
Menage a Magick
Sisterchicks in Sombreros

-- and answer a simple question:

Which of these titles did the Wombat fabricate, and which were transcribed, without alteration, from the book-selling website at which he toils for pay?

The first succesful ID of all made-up titles wins a nice new copy of Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat. Really. I'll send it to you and everything. (Oh, and will I ever get the prizes done for the Quizvitational? Yes. But not today.) No Googling and obviously any reference to the websites of booksellers or libraries is out-of-bounds altogether. You may, of course, post multiple title-guesses to any one comment.