OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo....

You know that sound you hear on the Fourth of July after a really cool firework has gone off? That's the noise I'm making as I clutch my copy of The Readerville Journal in my hand. This is one great-looking magazine, folks. There's the spiffy cover shot of Jeffrey Eugenides to start, but there's also a loving concern for detail shown in every layout, every design element. It's admirably clean and balanced, with colors that draw one's eye without startling it. I'm also excited that the magazine has a regular feature called Ode to a Lesser-Known Genius, and that the debut features John Crowley, whose Little, Big I recently read and greatly enjoyed. I like the typography, the binding, Karen's editorial, Kelly's book review... All in all, this is a wonderful periodical.

Of course, I'm biased in that it contains the first installment of our new column, Loose Canons. And yes, I'm one of several contributors whose caricatures grace the pages: Homer Banks, Bard Cole, Caroline Leavitt, and M.J. Rose all get the same treatment Paul and I did, but only our picture has us using weapons. Well, actually, Bard's (wonderful) column shows him armed with a longbow and a pen, but Paul and I have artillery. It's a funny drawing, done by Tim Bower, who also rendered Bard and Homer, although in the spirit of full disclosure I must admit that at first glance I thought it looked like Paul and I were doing something really juvenile with matches and methane.

In any case, those of you who still haven't subscribed to this little gem can click on this link right here and still get the debut issue, sure to become a collector's item.

Not that you should quit checking in here.
4:36 PM

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Well, here I sit, STILL without a copy of The Readerville Journal, quietly gnawing on my own liver to pass the time until my copy arrives. I must say that my condition hasn't been improved by reading the accounts of various Readervilleans who traveled to NYC to distribute the magazine at the New York Is Book Country festival. It sounds like our two dozen or so volunteers not only handed free copies to about 12,000 people on Sunday, but also had a wonderful time socializing with one another in the process. Ah, well. I'm still hoping to get to the West Coast to meet some of the Readerville crew at this spring's Book Expo America in Los Angeles. We'll see how that goes.

Meanwhile, October has begun, and I'm a little bummed. I'm bummed because I love October. In many ways it's my favorite month. It's got Halloween, which any right-thinking person welcomes as an excuse to dress up as some(one/thing) else and eat candy with no reservations. It's got plenty of football every weekend, which offers me the chance to kick back for a few hours and enjoy America's contributions to world culture: pageantry worthy of a Busby Berkeley movie, barely-restrained and balletic violence, and the comforts of instant replay for those too apathetic to pay attention the first time. October is also the peak of migration for southward-headed birds, offering many a fascinating spectacle for those who still feel a thrill at the sight of a column of grackles heading down the Shenandoah Valley. The first of October is when the best apples I know, the Staymen Winesaps, come ripe and appear in roadside stands all over this part of Virginia. And as of October 15th, college basketball practice begins, and my heart starts beating along with the sound of leather smacking against hardwood across the southeast.

The only thing is, to have a really good October you've got to have fall, and this year the weather's just not cooperating. The high today is in the eighties--again. How can you call it October without cool, crisp weather in which to crunch your teeth into a Winesap? October shouldn't be muggy, for crying out loud. And worse, for all the humidity, we're still looking at a drought, despite the two rainy days we had last week as a result of Isidore's breakup over the southeast. Because of the dryness, the odds are good that the legendary fall colors of the Blue Ridge this year will be brown, brown, and brown.

Bah, humbug.
8:29 AM

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