1. Katharine Hepburn and Strom Thurmond -- A match made in heaven? They died during the same week in June, 2003 and were both born more than 90 years earlier.
Yet I have to admit -- I know next to nothing about either of them, aside from the fact that they died within one week of each other. Not only that, but I don't
want to know anything about them. There are dozens of artists, entrepreneurs, and backup point guards who are more important to me.
There are pop culture references in
Zinsky to which I have deep emotional ties. These would include all the references to
Moby Dick, The Who, Saul Bellow, and The Notorious B.I.G.
But there are other references which serve strictly as timepieces and contextual clues. Thus Hepburn and Thurmond, who are the brief topic of a faux-conversation between Ariel Zinsky and Diana Kennedy in Chapter 19. To say more of the context here would be to give away some crucial plot points. So, for now, let me just say what I mean by faux-conversation: One of those chats where you're not discussing what you
ought to be discussing, because it's tense and filled with conflict. So instead of confronting the conflict you turn to the safe conversational haven of celebrity deaths.
2. Herzog by Saul Bellow -- Of the nine novels in Bellow's staggering, 40-year prime --
Dangling Man, The Victim, The Adventures of Augie March, Seize the Day, Henderson the Rain King, Herzog, Mr. Sammler's Planet, Humboldt's Gift, and
The Dean's December -- I must say that
Herzog is easily my least favorite.
(I also must say that I had a bit too much fun typing out all those titles.)
Anyway:
Herzog is discursive, didactic, and digressive to a discomfiting degree. When I first read it, during study breaks in the library as an undergrad in the mid-90s, I fell asleep almost every time I cracked it open. But what
Herzog lacked as a page-turner it made up for in its depth of ideas and overall eloquence. And every now and then I'd find a misogynistic bromide like this, on page 88:
"The bitches come and the bitches go."
What struck me most about this sentence in the mid-90s was how the Notorious B.I.G. rapped almost the exact same line on his song, "Friend of Mine," from the
Ready to Die album.
It made me wonder if men from different cultures, regions, and generations have been saying this to each other forever. Was it the male equivalent of "all men are dogs"?
There's no way to really find out. But the dual use of the line -- by both Bellow and Biggie -- stuck with me, and made its way into this juncture of the novel.
3. Lamar Odom -- Roughly 10 years elapsed between the time I first drafted
Zinsky in 2003 and its release on April 15, 2013. In an incredible coincidence that has nothing to do with anything, Odom, a basketball player with the Los Angeles Clippers in 2003, was
back with the Clippers in 2013 (after stops with the Miami Heat, Los Angeles Lakers, and Dallas Mavericks).
Why is Odom in the book? Mainly because -- like our hero, the young Ariel -- he is left-handed. And there is a vaguely egoistic tendency among recreational basketball players to admire the professionals whose styles resemble your own. Odom is one of two southpaws Zinsky takes a liking to. The other, chronicled in the Chapter 8 "Guide to the References," is Jalen Rose who, like Zinsky, is an alum of the University of Michigan.
4. Antonio Garay -- A football player whose career I researched strictly for
Zinsky purposes. For plot reasons that are too tangled to explain here, I needed to find a Boston College alum from 2003 who was a late-round draft pick. Garay fit the bill. According to his Wikipedia page, he is notable for his "outrageous hair styles and for driving a Hello Kitty-themed smart car."
What a joy it was to read George R. R. Martin's detailed breakdown of the The Great Gatsby movie. What I especially appreciate here is that Martin -- as an admitted lover of the original text -- is not dismissing the new film on principle. What's also refreshing is that he does not hold Robert Redford's Gatsby in high regard.
