Review of How to Get Into the Twin Palms

For the last thirty years or so, we have struggled to define whatever generation is coming of age. Douglas Coupland gave us what is still the best term, almost that long ago. Generation X. Since that term we've been deriving other phrases to describe what is essentially the same phenomenon; young people reaching adulthood without any society-defining challenge to rise to. As a result, X'ers, Y'ers, slackers, hipsters, and millenials, frequently saddled with student loan debt and with no frontier to escape to have floundered around in their identities until the social and material pressures of mainstream society settle them into a slightly less lucrative, slightly less comfortable, slightly less stable version of the lives their parents lived.

The tragedy is of course that President Obama was right when he said we had reached a “Sputnik moment,” but it also isn't terribly surprising that we have not responded as a society the way we responded to the Soviets or the Nazis. Our generation's crisis is our carbon footprint; no wonder we flounder for direction. Though in some ways limiting carbon emissions might be more important to preserving human civilization than beating the Nazis or the Soviets, it's awfully hard to worked up about. And it's hard to write about in fiction. As in Generation X the book, depicting the floundering of America's young, doesn't lead to much of a plot.

Anya, the protagonist of How to Get Into the Twin Palms, is floundering, for different reasons than what I've been talking about, but I think the images are equivalent. Anya is a Polish immigrant, a member of the “1.5 generation” who emigrated with her family to Texas when she was just a child. Now, living in L.A. Anya is trying to define herself in an era when “authenticity,” whatever that is, is cool. So she doesn't want to become an American. However, like many children of immigrants, she feels a kind of shame for her Polish heritage and so she doesn't want to embrace that either.

And she flounders. Spending a lot of time just driving around. Running because she doesn't know what else to do. Haunting a nearly empty hotel while forest fires rain the pool and the deck chairs with ash. Collecting unemployment. Calling bingo at a nearby church for $50 a night. Somehow, perhaps because nature abhors a vacuum, she latched onto the idea of getting The Twin Palms, the exclusive Russian only night club in her neighborhood, and made that her goal.

To do so, she adopts a Russian sounding name “Anya,” and starts what I guess you'd have to call a “relationship”, with a shady Russian cab driver named Lev. She dies her hair, changes her style, gets a push-up bra, all to attach herself enough to Lev, all so he will to take her to the club. What she plans to do afterward she never shares with the reader. Many of us have done what Anya has done, found, discovered, or created our own “Twin Palms,” something to give us direction in a society that hasn't provided one. The luckiest of us, myself included, have artistic vocations or political visions as our Twin Palms.

And while she struggles, the outskirts of Los Angeles burn.

And, as happens, when we only want one thing, finally getting into The Twin Palms is not a breakthrough, but a breakdown for Anya. She can't even speak Russian, so whatever facade she brought with her disintegrates almost instantly. The fall out carries her through a dramatic and drastic action to the ambiguous ending.

I doubt Karolina Waclawiak would think about her book in the terms I have. She might see it more constrained and more potent in its examination of identity through the experience of the actual 1.5 immigrant, rather than from my metaphorical understanding. She might see more focus on ideas of “authenticity,” especially when presented in an institution, The Twin Palms itself, that unironically and unequivocally values “authenticity” and harshly judges those who come up short of whatever the actual rubric for Russian-ness is to them. She might also want us to think about what “identity” means in a melting pot society, or in a nation that doesn't know what era to moor it's national identity to, or in a culture where individuals are empowered to choose their own identities rather than accepting the ones passed on by their parent's culture.

But I don't think its too much of a stretch to argue that American generations from Gen-X on are 1.5 immigrants into a new kind of society. We have the material comforts so many previous generations struggled so hard to provide, but it has not provided any of the emotional or spiritual comforts they assumed it would. And those comforts carry with them assumptions of ease of acquisition that were really only valid for about 30-40 years, so that the 30-40 year old of today has to work twice as hard to buy half as much as their parents did. And the challenge we face is completely different from those faced by previous generations. It's not about signing up for the army or breaking ground in a distant patch of land or even about scraping material existence by on the family farm. It's about recycling. Not much of an activity to design an identity around. (And how much do we enjoy being around someone who has designed their identity around recycling?)

How to Get Into the Twins Palms plays with the conventions of the immigrant story in a way to, at least in my mind, capture some more general experiences in our contemporary society. Despite Waclawiak's attempts to add a level of consequence to events, this novel limps to its conclusion, but it is hard to fault her for it; in a way this novel is also about limping along. It would almost be dishonest to the theme to conclude with some resonating epiphany. But the point of literature is to get readers to think about their world, and though I didn't personally connect with what actually happened, Waclawiak's book had enough substance and quality to inspire wider consideration.

Does It Matter What You Read?

Yes.

OK, before moving on to my argument, a bookseller's caveat. I give every individual purchase by every individual the benefit of the doubt. Since I can't know the motivation for a particular book purchase I will never judge any particular book purchase. For all I know, that copy of Ulysses is going to be set alight and thrown down open manhole into a chunky, stinking, sluice of human refuse. That said, the Number 1, 2, and 3 bestselling paperbacks in independent bookstores are the first, second, and third volume in the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. So, though I will never judge a particular purchase of Fifty Shades of Grey, there does seem to be an alarming pattern here.

At least last time I scanned the book-o-sphere, most people disagree with me, arguing that the action of reading in and of itself is so freaking awesome that it doesn't particularly matter what one is reading. (And many if not most might go a second step and accuse anyone who might argue otherwise of “snobbery,” but I'm beginning to think an exploration of the “snob” idea deserves its own post.) The whole “as long as I/he/she/it/they are reading” idea is really only half of a statement, because it contains an implied, “instead of.” When someone says “as long as they're reading,” they usually imply “instead of watching TV,” the assumption being that reading is neurologically better for your than watching TV. To me, this idea is kind of like saying something is safer than shooting yourself in the face. It's true, but not meaningful. Are we really making an argument for reading by saying it's better than the most narcotizing experience people can have without taking actual narcotics?

But even then I'm not entirely sure. Is reading Twilight (which I'm just going to use as a symbol for “substance-less entertainment containing an accepted low-quality of craft,” which doesn't mean I think you shouldn't read Twilight if you want to, which might seem like a contradiction of the point I'm making, but stick with me, nuance and reasonableness approacheth.) better than watching No Reservations, Louis, or The Wire? How about playing Knights of the Old Republic or Minecraft? And what about watching Casablanca or Citizen Kane or an Akira Kurosawa movie? How about taking a long hike? Of course, it all comes down to your definition of “better,” which itself asks the question, “Why do we read?”

Education, literacy campaigns, and everybody in the book-o-sphere argue that reading is important, that it is entertaining AND helps us grow as people, by developing our imagination and strengthening our empathy. We all accept that reading is both fun and productive, and I think we all accept that some books are really only entertainment and some books provide the substance we need to improve as human beings. Just like on TV, there's the trash that many people enjoy (Congratulations, Jersey Shore, winner of the Twilight Memorial Symbol for Substance-less Entertainment Award for Television) and then there's more substantive shows many people also enjoy; Mad Men being a big one at the moment, but there's also the aforementioned The Wire, No Reservations, and Louis, as well as Lost, Battlestar Galactica, and, if I'm to trust the number of scholarly papers written on the subject, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And just like on TV, I don't think it matters what you read for entertainment. Just like how no one can tell you what to find sexy, no one can tell you what to find entertaining. (For me, with books, I simply cannot be entertained if the sentences suck, but that's just me.)

The problem is the exclusivity of entertainment in our society. There is nothing wrong with entertainment reading, but there is a problem when most people read exclusively for entertainment. That pattern of behavior is what leads to the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy being light years more popular than any other book at the moment.

The thing is, entertainment, though an important part of human life, doesn't really help us solve any of our problems. To put this another way, entertainment (which I have nothing against) doesn't contribute to our ability to be citizens in a democracy. A quick example. By any tangible measure Barack Obama's 2008 campaign platform was the most popular platform in decades. He won 54% of the popular vote, and Democrats took both chambers of Congress. The Republicans responded by doing absolutely everything in their power to obstruct and prevent any aspect of that platform being turned into policy, essentially taking a big runny dump on the very idea of representative democracy. And the punishment they received; the biggest power shift in Congressional history. This point isn't even partisan because interpreting it cuts both ways; either an alarming percentage of the population fell for Republican bullshit or an equally alarming percentage of the population had no idea what they were voting for in 2008. Of course, terrifyingly, both are probably true.

Though a lot of factors go into how we make political decisions, I think a population truly capable of the critical thinking engendered and strengthened by consistently reading literature would be a lot better at voting for what they actually believe in and supporting policies that meet the challenges we face. We could “read” the messages of politicians and pundits in a critical light that exposes underlying assumptions, explores the implications of applied policy, and sorts the statement from the bluster. We could vote for ideas, rather than through vague emotions cultivated by ad campaigns.

But this whole argument rests on how we answer the question “Why do we read?” And not just why we read, but why we do anything, play video games, watch TV, movies, sports, take long hikes, exercise in general, travel, etc. Sure we all deserve leisure, relaxation, mindless fun, entertainment some of the time (frankly, I'm totally cool with 65/35 entertainment/personal growth, I'd even take 70/30, but I'm looking at the NYT bestseller list and pretty sure we're around 98/2, maybe 95/5) but the point of entertainment is personal stasis. One of the primary pleasures of entertainment is that it asks nothing of us. But it doesn't help us make a better world. And if a better world isn't a goal, well, what's the point of anything?

One final caveat, before wrapping this up. For reluctant readers and readers who are still developing basic reading skills, it doesn't matter what they read as long as they read. For them, whoever they are, that whole neurological point applies, with the goal that eventually, they develop the skills needed to productively read literature every now and again. But for the rest of you...

So if you want to grow as a human being, yes, it does matter what you read. You should read books with ideas new to you. Books with images that extend their meaning into your life. Sentences that make you work at their interpretation. Words you have to look up in the dictionary. Scenarios that challenge your understanding of morals and ethics. Descriptions of people you could never meet in your life, places you could never visit, obstacles you could never surmount. It is not elitist to argue that if we want the empathy and intellect needed to solve the world's problems we should read books that stretch our empathy and challenge our intellect. And it is not snobbish to suggest that in our society of constant entertainment it would be beneficial and enjoyable to occasionally read for a different experience.

So if you've only read entertainment recently, go into your locally owned independent bookstore and ask for a challenge. Put effort into reading it. Look stuff up. Underline. Annotate. Break a sweat. Work your brain. You don't get a chiseled physique if you only lift 5lbs weights and the same goes for your brain. And when you're done, the new Sookie Stackhouse or Robet Ludlum spin off will be waiting for you.

(Pictures from Awesome People Reading)

Craft Beer and the Next Economy

Picture from Brewfest Link

A couple of Saturdays ago I went to the Hyperlocal Brewfest at the Somerville armory. It was a dozen or so area craft, micro, and other (the other being Sam Adams & Narraganset, which was nice because I'd been intrigued by the Sam Adams Porch Rocker, but wanted to try some before committing to a six-pack. Verdict: It'd be perfect if I'd just mowed a lawn, but I think I'll fill my fridge with other beers) brewers giving tall pours and unlimited samples of their wares. I tried beers from Cambridge Brewing Company, Watch City, Backlash, Idle Hands, Jack's Abby, Somerville Brewing Company, and Night Shift. The CBC, Jack's Abby (which I didn't realize was local) and Somerville Brewing Company, had the best individual beers, and the pims beer (which really tasted like a pims cup, meaning it was cucumber beer) from Cape Anne was really interesting, but the best beverage I had was a combination of Night Shift's Taza Chocolate Stout AND! Viva Habanero, a rye malt with habanero peppers. (For the love of peace and justice and the children and puppies, put that in a bottle!)

Of course, this is all part of the growing localism trend, the absurd belief that life is better when you give enough of a shit about the town or city you live in to shop in a way that supports said economy of said town. (Aside, I wonder how strong the locavore movement is in this small-town value-driven, um, towns, that people keep telling me are the real America. What? Wal-mart put all those stores out of business? OK then.) But with the national unemployment rate hovering around the 8s and looking like its going to stay there for awhile, and the growing concerns around global warming and climate change, I wonder if, more than just producing a delicious, delicious beverage, local-focused craft beer might be leading the way to the next American economy.

In general, locally owned businesses hire more people per dollar of sales than national and international businesses, at least in terms of retail. Part of this employment difference, of course, has to do with duplication of services. A thousand different locally owned businesses will all have their own marketing coordinator, personnel manager, receiver etc, while a large national chain will only have one or a small group meeting those responsibilities. (Part of this difference might also be that locally owned independent businesses don't usually have some rich asshole at the top demanding shmillions of dollars a year in earnings.) And, of course, the other benefits of shopping locally, such as tax revenue, property values, and general economic activity, are well documented, but I think the craft-micro-local beer industry might have even more to teach us.

What about an economy of small-scale manufacturing and production? When we think about restoring manufacturing in America, we tend to think about car factories, and other massive endeavors, the kind of industry that defined the, um, industrial revolution, but maybe the answer to our manufacturing deficit is to go small. Thousands of small operations around the country, hiring people with a productive level of redundancy and, perhaps, making high quality goods in an environmentally rational way at reasonable prices to boot.

Beer, of course, is the perfect product for sustainable small-scale production. You can start your business in your kitchen. If things go well you can be a tenant brewer as Pretty Things did, renting space in existing breweries to make your beer. And even if you end up owning your own brewery, you don't need a huge space for it. And there seems to be a range of economic sustainabilities in making beer; you've got your Sam Adams and Harpoon, and you've got your Peak, Notch, Cape Ann, Ipswitch, and you've got your Night Watch, Pretty Things, and Somerville Brewing Company.

In metro-Somerbridge, we're seeing a little bit of this, especially in terms of various food products, but is there a way to develop, small-scale clothing, appliance, home goods, electronics, and other manufacturing? Cities, towns, and state subsidize businesses all the time, usually through tax breaks and low interest loans, but nearly all of the time these subsidies go to big national chains. Wal-Mart walks into the local city council meeting promises adding 500 jobs by building a warehouse in the town and then casually hints they suppose they could build that warehouse in the next town over unless they don't have to pay property tax on the warehouse for ten years. (Then, because this is Wal-Mart, they deliver half the jobs they promised generally at a non-liveable wage, and if a few local businesses go out because of this, the city's tax base usually erodes even further, but I doubt I needed to tell you Wal-Mart is bad.) Millions or perhaps billions of dollars in local funds have been poured into massive and already successful and profitable businesses. It's kind of like the steroid era in baseball, the strongest are just getting stronger. (A couple places for all the data: The Institute for Local Self-Reliance and The 10% Shift)

But what if towns, cities, and counties, started subsidizing small-scale manufacturing and production? You would probably create more jobs for less money and, in terms of the city's investment, jobs that aren't going to up and relocate to Bangladesh. It would be investments in business owners who are themselves specifically invested in the well-being of the city. And this wouldn't have to mean the end of large-scale production.

Some products, cars, solar panels, wind turbines, etc. just can't be produced at the local level and that's fine. There can be room in our economy for the large-scale and the small-scale, the local and the international, the big and the small. The only reason we don't see more of a mixed economy is because big businesses tend to spend a lot of money on getting bigger, usually in the form of lobbying the shit out of Congress and local governments for tax breaks, subsidies, and lax regulation that gives them economic advantages. Or, they just take a 6.025% price advantage by not collecting and remitting sales tax. (AMAZON!)

But, as usual, it starts with beer. By making home brewing legal Jimmy Carter maybe have begun the process of the next American economy, a small-scale, sustainable, productive economy that creates jobs and lowers our carbon footprints. And delicious beer. Delicious delicious beer.

Will the Big Three Come Back? And a Couple Other Sports Thoughts

Of the four major American sports, basketball is my least favorite (which drops it to around 6^th or 7^th in the world of sports in general, but still puts it higher than just about anything else on TV) but it was damn near impossible not to become emotionally invested in the Boston Celtics this year. Everyone kept knocking them down and they just kept getting right back up. And not just dragging themselves to their feet to stagger through another round. They got back up to the Eastern Conference finals (more on that in unpacking the titular question) and went seven games with the Miami Heat, in the course of which, their play demanded Lebron James put it one of the great performances in NBA playoff history to beat them. They proved that great coaching and great team play can still beat the greatest individual talents the sport has to offer, if said great team could muster a few more points from their bench players.

But the question on everyone's mind of course, as the Heat fans gave the Celtics a standing ovation in the closing seconds of game 7 is, is this the end? Is “The Big Three” era coming to an end? There were points in this season (say, before the All-Star break) where this was an easy “no,” but, with the playoff performance the question is a lot more complicated, and is, I think, leaning ever so slightly towards, “yes.”

First of all, I think it's important to remember that if Avery Bradley was healthy the Celtics beat the Heat in six games. Maybe five. He would have guarded James most of the time, and by the playoffs, he had developed into an elite defender. Not only would he have added his own abilities, he would have eased the burden on Paul Pierce, who noticeably faded as the series wore on. Much like in their re-match with the Lakers when Kendrick Perkins went down, it wasn't poor play from the Big Three that accounted for a loss, but the absence of a key supporting player. The same thing could be said for the Heat, of course. If they had lost the 12 or so points Chalmers provided, they would have lost series. (And while we're on the Heat, if Chris Bosh didn't suddenly turn into a 3-point shooter in game 7, the Celtics would still be playing. I mean, seriously. What more could we ask from the Celtics defense than to force Bosh to take 3s as the shot clock expired?)

On to signing or not signing Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett to new contracts. Let's start with Ray Allen, because I think the possibility of his contract is more complicated.

First of all, it depends in his ankle. If he gets out of ankle surgery and doesn't believe he can consistently make jump shots, I assume he'll retire. But even if the ankle comes back healthy, the Celtics would have to be concerned about his ability to stay healthy for an entire season, given the ankle, the bone spurs, and his age. I think we can safely assume that Ray Allen can no longer contribute effective starter minutes. But coming off the bench? If Ray Allen's ankle is healthy after the surgery, I think he can be an major contributing factor off the bench. In 12 minutes or so per game, we could expect about 12 points or so from Allen, but more importantly, a fresh Allen at the end of games could be huge. He could only average 6 or 7 points a game, but if those points come in the fourth quarter to close-out games, they will be major contributions to the team's success. And you don't have to run around to make free-throws.

The question is whether a future Hall of Famer and the greatest pure jump-shooter the game has ever seen is willing to take a 1 or 2 year contract that reflects that role. Because it will be a pay-cut. And it might be only a 1 year deal. Personally, I think a Wakefield-like contract makes a lot of sense for Ray Allen. In a diminished role, he could continue to contribute for a 2,3, or even 4 years, but any game and any season could be the last. The rolling contract that Wakefield had, could be a perfect fit.

During the playoffs, Kevin Garnett proved he is still an elite player and if the Celtics only sign one of them, it's going to be Garnett. The only question is the contract. Is he willing to accept that, as every year passes, he becomes more and more of an injury risk? Is he willing to take a pay-cut in order to help his team fill the gaps in their roster? What is most important to him, being a Boston Celtic or being a high paid NBA star? As with Allen, I think there is a contract in here that makes sense, probably for two-years and probably for less than what he's getting paid now.

There is another reason for sports fans to root for The Big Three coming back next season; we could see professional athletes make a decision based on something other than how much money they'll be paid. There is an amount of money that makes sense for the Celtics to offer Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen and there is a chance other teams will offer them more. Unfortunately, we may never know all the details that will ultimately go into the contract negotiations, but if two players who have embraced a team identity the way Garnett and Allen have can leave Boston for more money in the waning years of their careers, we'll have the final definitive confirmation that professional sports has become the same soul-crushing corporate culture as the rest of the world.

About damn time.

A few other sports things to catch up on. Given that Patrice Bergeron won the Selke, as entertaining as it might have been, I will not be pitching a fit. He should win it a half dozen times over his career as long as he stays healthy. However, I do have questions about Karlsson winning the Norris trophy. Yes, there is no question he was the best offensive defensman in the league, but that :35 average shorthanded time on ice really stands out to me. There could be a lot of reasons for it, but it makes his plus/minus 16 much less respectable. From his point totals he was on the ice for a minimum of 78 Ottawa goals, which means he was also on the ice for a minimum of 63 opposing goals, but with so little shorthanded time, nearly all of the opponents goals had to come even strength. (Chara on the other hand had 2:55 shorthanded time on ice and a 33 plus/minus.) When a defenseman is getting points like that, you'd think the net gain for the Senators would be a lot more than 16, especially when he's not killing penalties. For a somewhat unfair comparison, in 1968-9, when Bobby Orr scored a paltry 64 points, he had a plus/minusof 65. The game was different back then, but the stats still add up to opponents scoring a lot of even-strength goals when Karlsson is on the ice. Which makes me ask, if there's a Selke for forwards, why not an Orr for defensemen?

Offensive Juggernaut

If I came back from an around the world tour and you told me Felix Dubron had 8 wins, Daniel Nava was batting .333, Jarrod Saltalamaccia had 13 home runs and David Ortiz was toting around MVP level offensive numbers (.313 batting average, 49 RBI, 18 HR, .614 slugging) and asked me where the Sox were in the standings, I'd probably guess the best in baseball and well on their way to a 100 win season. With a disabled list of mythical proportions, a pitching staff that took two months to straighten out, Youkilis and Pedroia constantly nursing lingering injuries, and playing in a division that is somehow even better than it was last year, the Red Sox are not on their way to a 100 win season. Oh, and what's up with Adrian Gonzalez? I think just about everyone was ready for an off year for the Red Sox, for a whole host of reasons, but I don't think anybody was prepared for the David Ortiz to potentially have the best year of his career, and for the Red Sox organization to demonstrate some pretty remarkable depth. What does this mean for the season? Well, the rest of the AL East is crushing it as usual, being the only division with all teams above .500, and the Sox lost a lot of games early in the season, but they still have Ellsbury coming back and who knows what Crawford can so, the Red Sox are speeding headlong towards another end-of-season playoff heartbreak. That extra wild card might be just within reach, and if they get it, they'll get their opponents ace so...it might be a tough September. Or they could squeak in, everyone could get hot at the plate, and they could steamroll their way to another championship. Ah, Red Sox baseball.

No pads, no time-outs, and, they're friends are rowdier.

Finally, do not miss the rugby sevens at the Olympics this summer. Rugby sevens might be the purest, most athletic team sport in the world. It's played at a blistering pace, the players are freakish specimens of raw ability, and the US is the defending gold-medalist. (OK, we're not going to win any medals in rugby, but, hey, we've got enough.) Though it might be a little extreme to say your avoidance of rugby this summer will test the bonds of our friendship, your avoidance of rugby this summer will test the bonds of our friendship.

Review of Memoirs of a Rugby-Playing Man

Like all good memoirs, Jay Atkinson's Memoirs of a Rugby-Playing Man is about more than just what it's about. The center of gravity is rugby, but the memoir is about building an identity, discovering one's self in the course of one's life, and using that self as a guide through whatever else existence provides. For Atkinson, the culture of rugby provided a kind of stability that allowed him to cope with the emotional challenges of his life, while struggling through shitty jobs to be a writer.

As a rugby-player myself, I can say that Atkinson perfectly captures the culture of the sport. Camaraderie. Barely restrained recklessness. Penchant for mischief. Roll with the punches attitude. Drinking. Singing. Nicknames. (I was “The Prophet” if anyone is curious.) Through his anecdotes and reflections, most readers will get a good sense of what makes rugby rugby and why ruggers are so willing to constantly risk bodily harm in their sport.. Of course, this is a memoir, not an expose, so readers looking for a wealth of salacious details and vulgar lyrics will be slightly disappointed. There is debauchery, but only so much as can be experienced by a rugby player with a head on his shoulders.

Atkinson describes the games as well as he describes the parties. In some ways, rugby is a complex bundle of confusing contradictions. Despite being played on a roughly soccer-sized field, the bulk of the work takes place in the ugly, messy, brutal, virtually enclosed, chaotic-while-rigorously-policed, ruck as the teams vie for position and control of the ball after a player has been tackled. But then all of that work often culminates in moments of brilliant athletic grace; long passes across the field, perfect drop kicks through the goal posts, and fast runners balletting through the back line. As in all sports, there are specialized roles for the different positions, but all ruggers need a broad base of general skill; tackling, passing, catching, to be able to compete. And there's the scrum, a term that has taken on an opposite meaning in general use from what it means in rugby. The scrum might be the most highly orchestrated, technical, and delicate procedure in all of rugby as it involves getting eight players per team, in different positions, with different body types, and different skill sets and strengths to work in perfect unison. I don't know if there's anything more orderly in all team sport.

Memoirs of a Rugby-Playing Man is also a writing memoir. It was Atkinson's hopes for a writing career that brought him to Florida where his rugby career began in earnest, and it was there that he met the late great Harry Crews. If there are two muses in this book, rugby is one, and the hard drinking, hard teaching, hard writing http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Crews is the other. And Atkinson stuck with writing just as he stuck with rugby, authoring Caveman Politics, Ice Time, Legends of Winter Hill and more.

Which made me surprised there aren't more rugger-writers in the world. What's the difference between a frat that kicks a keg on Friday night and a rugby team that kicks a keg on Friday night? Saturday morning. Who knows what the frat is doing, but I doubt it's walking step by step across a field to make sure it's clear of rocks, setting up goal posts, and painting lines, before playing perhaps the most physically demanding team sport in the world. (Water polo might have it beat, but not by much.) The difference is the work. Whatever else happens, rugby players are defined by the work of rugby. Same thing with writing. The difference between a writer who goes on a Friday night tear, and everybody else who goes on a Friday night tear, is the desk on Saturday morning. No matter what else happens in their lives, writers do the work of writing.

I think that is one of things that makes rugby so important to the people who play it. Sure there's the actual athletic action, there are the parties, there is the camaraderie, there is the ability of sport to unify disparate individuals into a team, but there is also a reason to drag your hung over ass out of bed on Saturday morning and do something. I think we live better, happier lives when he have that reason.

Memoirs of a Rugby-Playing Man will be most satisfying to people familiar with rugby, whether it's people who've just started watching the 7's version of the game on television, or players who know the tune of “I Used To Work in Chicago,” (You gotta wonder why that lady kept going back, she never got anything she asked for.) but general sports fans will enjoy this insightful look into what is still a fairly exotic sport in America. And since Atkinson never played professionally, he writes from the perspective of the life-long amateur, a perspective most of us can relate to.

Finally, since he is a writer there's a depth of experience and sincerity in the book that just cannot be created by ghost-written celebrity memoirs. You can feel that he didn't write this because he saw a publicity opportunity, but because this was his life and writers are compelled, for reasons often least understood by the writers themselves, to turn their lives into text.