So, that question I asked a little while back? I was being a bit mercenary in putting it out there–I’ve been cobbling together a piece about D.C. novels that’s now up on Washington City Paper‘s Web site. This may stoke the anger of people convinced that reviewers are “one of the lowest forms of life.” But to paraphrase something Walter Kirn wrote a while ago, if we’re not interested in arguing about books, why are we reading them?
I also have a brief review of David Hajdu‘s new book, The Ten-Cent Plague.
Steve Weinberg wants to know where all the great journalism novels are:
Far too often…here is what I take away from journalism novels: As a group we experience a lot of sexual intercourse on the job, lack scruples when gathering information, and solve murders frequently enough to eliminate the need for homicide detectives in certain metropolitan areas. Good fun, I suppose, but disheartening because journalism should come across as something more noble.
Weinberg briefly notes Mike Sager‘s forthcoming novel about D.C.’s crack years, Deviant Behavior, a seriocomic, George Pelecanos-meets-Christopher Buckley tale that focuses on a reporter at a stand-in for the Post, the Washington Herald. I’m halfway through and it’s entertaining so far, but I suspect it won’t be the newsroom Moby-Dick Weinberg wants. I’m at a loss to think of any great books about reporters anyway. As the Mekons put it, “Turning journalists into heroes takes some doing.”
I still want Park Row released on DVD, though.