At dinner with some Booklisters on Tuesday night, we enjoyed a discussion of words and phrases (”interesting,” “well-written”) that shouldn’t appear in book reviews. The topic must be in the zeitgeist. Joyce Saricks, who was at the table, forwarded me this post from Paper Cuts: “Seven Deadly Words of Book Reviewing.” Their picks are poignant, compelling, intriguing, eschew, craft, muse, and lyrical.

I agree that those are overused and should be avoided, but I don’t think they fit the criterion we were discussing on Tuesday: don’t use words or phrases that don’t mean anything. Interesting makes no sense if the review doesn’t explain why the book is interesting, and if the review makes the case for the book’s interestingness, then the word is no longer needed. Well written? Well, if an author didn’t have a basic command of the English language, then it’s doubtful we’d be reviewing the book in the first place. And if the reviewer is trying to say something about the literary quality of the prose, then a more lyrical word should be used. (Just not lyrical.)

Everybody has personal pet peeves, of course–I dislike limn, yet a number of my colleagues use it to good effect. And we all overuse certain words, but given the number of books that Booklisters must review–and the rate at which we must review them–we’re all going to be guilty of the occasional poignant lapse.

Are there any words you’d like to see stricken from book reviews?

If it’s been quiet at Likely Stories lately, that’s because I’ve been away–first for a few days off with my family, and now I’m at the Public Library Association conference in Minneapolis, talking with librarians and demonstrating Booklist Online. Contributing editor Ian Chipman is holding down the fort in my absence, which reminds me…REaD ALERT!

I like lots of librarians, but my favorite librarian doesn’t actually exist. (Which certainly makes it less politically awkward than if I were to choose a favorite librarian who did exist.) Welcome back again, Israel Armstrong.

“We’re librarians actually,” said Israel.

“Come again?”

“Librarians.”

Israel thought that Barry’s face coloured slightly at the mention of the word “librarian” and that perhaps he twitched nervously inside his cheap suit with its expensive-looking lining. But then twitching nervously in the presence of a librarian wasn’t an uncommon response–librarians, like ministers of religion, and poets, and people with serious mental health disorders, can make people nervous. Librarians possess a kind of occult power, an aura. They could silence people with just a glance. At least, they did in Israel’s fantasies. In Israel’s fantasies, librarians were mild-mannered superheroes, with extrasensory perceptions and shape-shifting capacities and a highly developed sense of responsibility who demanded respect from everyone they met. In reality, Israel couldn’t silence even Mrs. Onions on her mobile phone when she was disturbing other readers on the van.

Ian Sansom’s first Mobile Library Mystery, The Case of the Missing Books, was wonderful. The second one, Mr. Dixon Disappears, didn’t work as well. The third one, The Book Stops Here (which will be published in August), made me laugh almost as much as the first.

Tax Increment Financing sounds like a guaranteed sleep aid–but once most taxpayers learn what it is, they’re likely to be awake all night, burning with rage at both ends. (It’s a particularly contentious topic here in Chicago.) In an interview on Fresh Air, Free Lunch author David Cay Johnson explains “How the Wealthiest Americans Enrich Themselves at Government Expense (and Stick You with the Bill).”

Arthur C. Clarke, who wrote nearly 100 books in 90 years (and let’s not forget 2001) is dead. From the New York Times (”Arthur C. Clarke, 90, Fiction Writer, Dies,” by Gerald Jonas):

Mr. Clarke’s reputation as a prophet of the space age rests on more than a few accurate predictions. His visions helped bring about the future he longed to see. His contributions to the space program were lauded by Charles Kohlhase, who planned NASA’s Cassini mission to Saturn and who said of Mr. Clarke, "When you dream what is possible, and add a knowledge of physics, you make it happen."

Read Roland Green’s starred review of Firstborn (cowritten by Clarke and Stephen Baxter).

Just last December, Clarke reflected on life at 90:

Say hello to The Long Goodbye, Chicago (”Crime thriller ‘The Long Goodbye’ selected for ‘One Book, One Chicago,’ by Deanese Williams-Harris, Chicago Tribune):

“The Long Goodbye” by crime-genre master Raymond Chandler is the 14th and latest book selected for the Chicago Public Library’s “One Book, One Chicago” program. Twice a year, in the spring and fall, the library selects a new title for the program in an effort to promote reading and discussion among all city residents.

The headline is funny, the story not so much. Maybe it hits too close to home. Or maybe–despite whatever grain of truth this piece of satire contains–it’s actually wrong. From the Onion (”Novelists Strike Fails To Affect Nation Whatsoever“):

LOS ANGELES - The Novelists Guild of America strike, now entering its fourth month, has had no impact on the nation at all, sources reported Tuesday.

The strike, which scholars say could be the longest since 1951, when American novelists may or may not have voluntarily committed to a six-month work stoppage, has brought an immediate halt to all new novels, novellas, and novelettes from coast to coast, affecting no one.

Mystery solved, apparently. From the Telegraph (”German pilot shot down Little Prince author,” by Henry Samuel):

A former German World War II fighter pilot has claimed he shot down French literary hero Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, author of The Little Prince, 63 years after the event.

However, Horst Rippert, 88, said he would have held his fire on July 31, 1944, had he known his victim was one of his favourite authors.

“If I had known it was Saint-Exupéry I would never have shot him down,” said Mr Rippert.

It takes the New Yorker a little longer to catch up with a story, of course, but when they do, the results are usually worth reading. Referencing Margaret Seltzer, Jill Lepore (”Just the Facts, Ma’am“) examines the lies of history, the truth of fiction, and men’s and women’s preferences for each. She asks “What makes a book a history?” and “is ‘historical truth’ truer than fictional truth?”

Historians and novelists are kin, in other words, but they’re more like brothers who throw food at each other than like sisters who borrow each other’s clothes. The literary genre that became known as "the novel" was born in the eighteenth century. History, the empirical sort based on archival research and practiced in universities, anyway, was born at much the same time. Its novelty is not as often remembered, though, not least because it wasn’t called "novel." In a way, history is the anti-novel, the novel’s twin, though which is Cain and which is Abel depends on your point of view.

The fifth issue of Booklist Online REaD ALERT went out…um…Wednesday. I forgot to mention it until now. (And I forgot to mention the fourth issue entirely, apparently.)

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