Just three weeks ago I was once again riffling through Et Tu, Babe, to consider using He's Got A Car Bomb as an audition piece, as I did a few times in the early 90s.
I'm very excited by your Daemon list, JH. "Rameau's Nephew" and "The Imp of the Perverse" are crucial ones for me too. They explain so much. Elsewhere on your list our daemons overlap -- and don't -- in ways that intrigue me! Adding several items to my reading list now.
As a slightly insane list-maker myself, one meta-selection principle upon which I frequently rely -- I don't know if this is already is a thing, or has a name; you tell me -- is as follows.
I'll sort things (books, usually, but other things as well -- including objects) into groupings. So when I was deacquisitioning my library recently, as we prepared to move house, for example, the resulting thematic piles included, say, "Books that meant a lot to me as a teenager," "Books that I hope to read to my grandchilden some day," "Books that meant a lot to me in graduate school," etc. Fine. But here comes the kooky meta stage: Instead of seeking to determine which (let's say 100) books to keep (i.e., because, out of all my books, these 100 are my very favorites), I instead sought to determine which (let's say 5) books from each of (let's say 20) piles were my favorites. What I ended up keeping were not my 100 favorite books! Yet it's a collection that makes me happier than a collection of my 100 favorites would.
And here's a related example, where the initial grouping of books' rubric is more calendrical than sentimental. At HILOBROW, in 2020-21, I published a list of the Best (read: My Favorite) Adventures of the 20th Century. This was the culmination of years of reading and research, which had resulted in 100 lists of my favorite adventure novels and comics — one for each year of the 20th century (as I eccentrically periodize that era). For my meta-list of 250 adventures, once again I didn't seek to determine which 250 of the 1000 adventures were in fact my favorites. No, I instinctively resisted such an effort; I couldn't make myself do it. Instead, I selected my favorite 2 or 3 novels from each year-list. Since not every year was equally excellent, when it comes to adventures, the resulting list of 250 adventures leaves out several of my top-250 favorites. And yet… this list makes me happier than the other sort of list would. Your psychological diagnosis — or Lou Reed's Nephew's diagnosis — is welcome.
Thanks for sharing your procedure, Josh. That's very interesting. It sounds to me--since you invited commentary--like you wanted to make a selection that had both personal (first person, as I'm using the grammatical persons here) importance and third-person validity. You wanted it to be an impartial survey in some sense, and this constraint delivered a balance you found personally satisfying. I read it is a different way of scratching the same dualist itch.
My attempt--which is much more Marie Kondo--takes the route of selecting things for which I have the strongest and deepest affinity, beyond intellectualization. (A perennial problem.) I've started to take such signals into account more when considering art. What stays with me? What lines or scenes get stuck in my head? The hope of this path--which is as foolish as any other. I'm sure--is that it will identify works that are concrete universals for me, and perhaps for others.
I'd love to know where our Daemons diverge. I found my list to be predictable in places, but sometimes completely unexpected. "The Hour of Letdown" is a minor work, for sure, but it is about a machine that gets drunk in a bar and is hilarious! Coming across it was an accident that nonetheless proved decisive.
Hanas unbound!
Just three weeks ago I was once again riffling through Et Tu, Babe, to consider using He's Got A Car Bomb as an audition piece, as I did a few times in the early 90s.
Oh wait, no, that was My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist! Mixed up my books! Guess I 'm going to get kicked out of Team Leyner.
Not a chance. We need everyone on the field.
I'm very excited by your Daemon list, JH. "Rameau's Nephew" and "The Imp of the Perverse" are crucial ones for me too. They explain so much. Elsewhere on your list our daemons overlap -- and don't -- in ways that intrigue me! Adding several items to my reading list now.
As a slightly insane list-maker myself, one meta-selection principle upon which I frequently rely -- I don't know if this is already is a thing, or has a name; you tell me -- is as follows.
I'll sort things (books, usually, but other things as well -- including objects) into groupings. So when I was deacquisitioning my library recently, as we prepared to move house, for example, the resulting thematic piles included, say, "Books that meant a lot to me as a teenager," "Books that I hope to read to my grandchilden some day," "Books that meant a lot to me in graduate school," etc. Fine. But here comes the kooky meta stage: Instead of seeking to determine which (let's say 100) books to keep (i.e., because, out of all my books, these 100 are my very favorites), I instead sought to determine which (let's say 5) books from each of (let's say 20) piles were my favorites. What I ended up keeping were not my 100 favorite books! Yet it's a collection that makes me happier than a collection of my 100 favorites would.
And here's a related example, where the initial grouping of books' rubric is more calendrical than sentimental. At HILOBROW, in 2020-21, I published a list of the Best (read: My Favorite) Adventures of the 20th Century. This was the culmination of years of reading and research, which had resulted in 100 lists of my favorite adventure novels and comics — one for each year of the 20th century (as I eccentrically periodize that era). For my meta-list of 250 adventures, once again I didn't seek to determine which 250 of the 1000 adventures were in fact my favorites. No, I instinctively resisted such an effort; I couldn't make myself do it. Instead, I selected my favorite 2 or 3 novels from each year-list. Since not every year was equally excellent, when it comes to adventures, the resulting list of 250 adventures leaves out several of my top-250 favorites. And yet… this list makes me happier than the other sort of list would. Your psychological diagnosis — or Lou Reed's Nephew's diagnosis — is welcome.
https://www.hilobrow.com/250-adventures/
Thanks for sharing your procedure, Josh. That's very interesting. It sounds to me--since you invited commentary--like you wanted to make a selection that had both personal (first person, as I'm using the grammatical persons here) importance and third-person validity. You wanted it to be an impartial survey in some sense, and this constraint delivered a balance you found personally satisfying. I read it is a different way of scratching the same dualist itch.
My attempt--which is much more Marie Kondo--takes the route of selecting things for which I have the strongest and deepest affinity, beyond intellectualization. (A perennial problem.) I've started to take such signals into account more when considering art. What stays with me? What lines or scenes get stuck in my head? The hope of this path--which is as foolish as any other. I'm sure--is that it will identify works that are concrete universals for me, and perhaps for others.
I'd love to know where our Daemons diverge. I found my list to be predictable in places, but sometimes completely unexpected. "The Hour of Letdown" is a minor work, for sure, but it is about a machine that gets drunk in a bar and is hilarious! Coming across it was an accident that nonetheless proved decisive.