... is an oxymoron as far as I'm concerned. Which means I'm not among the supposed legion of admirers of George Plimpton. Nor was I charmed by the lead in today's New York Times Book Review, about the new book George, Being George, a compendium of lauds about Plimpton by a few of that legion. The review, by Graydon Carter, a Plimpton type himself, is a solid three pages of drooling adulation for the late writer and editor whose delightful habits included telling Paris Review interns to "bring a pretty girl" to his parties. Ugh.
But hark! There was a bright light or two among this week's reviews. I'll get to them soon.
