In her weekly analysis of the latest New York Times Book Review, Intern Alexis stumbles upon a disconcerting discovery: Sir Harold Evans, arm candy of one Tina Brown, has made a mistake. In the paper of the record, no less. Meta-tragic! Alexis soldiers on, however, to cover the annoying trends and tasteless references in the latest Review, all after the jump.

Every Man a Speculator: A History of Wall Street in American Life
 By Steve Fraser
Reviewed by Harold Evans

Sir Harry is pretty critical of Steve Fraser s cultural history of Wall Street and you know, that s fine, because Harry is a knight and knights are allowed to be critical. So we were rolling along, hunting the bear and riding the bull, when we got to this part: Fraser is cavalier in his treatment of Samuel Insull. It matters to get Insull s story right. He is one of history s answers to the crucial question Foster poses in his introduction Foster describes Insull as a creator of a cloud of paper wealth. Whoa whoa hold up, Harry, who this is Foster character of whom you speak? Stephen Foster, the great American folk singer of the 19th century? Unlikely Wait Shit Could it be? Could His Knight-itude, Mr. The Week, Mr. Tina Brown have actually fucked up and gotten Fraser s name wrong not once, not twice, but thrice!? Mondays usually suck but not this Monday! Hey, Tanenhaus, if you re looking for someone to replace the fact-checker whom you just called into your office and subsequently fired, well, you know where we live. [update: they changed Foster to Fraser in the online edition]

Letters

In response to the Judith Shulevitz s review of Judith Warner s mommy memoir Perfect Madness, reader Annie Gottlieb writes in: We know what The New York Times's demographic is, or at least what its advertisers' demographic is. Still, it's embarrassing to see the Book Review pander to it so shamelessly: a cover and two full inside pages on the angst of upscale, highly educated suburban mothers! The working poor Barbara Ehrenreich wrote about in Nickel and Dimed would probably love to have just one or two of their pricey problems. Good point, Annie. But the working poor are ugly and anyway, if poor people want to read about themselves in the New York Times, they can go here.


Trend analysis: Sweeping Generalizations From Hell
The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls
Reviewed by Francine Prose
Metropolis by Elizabeth Gaffney
Reviewed by Max Byrd
The Cigar Roller by Pablo Medina
Reviewed by Lenora Todaro

Ugh. If there is one thing that gets our panties in a twist, it s when book reviewers are so full of themselves and pompous that they feel like they can make broad generalizations about literary genres as a way to look smart and cleverly transition into their book reviews. There are three such examples in this week s Review. Francine Prose opens up her review of Jeanette Walls memoir with a generalization about memoirs: Memoirs are modern fairy tales, the harrowing fables of the Brothers Grimm How fitting, then, that the title of Jeannette Wall s Chilling memoir, The Glass Castle, should evoke the architecture of fantasy and magic. Max Byrd, in his review of Elizabeth Gaffney s novel Metropolis, takes it upon himself to generalize about the entire genre of fiction : There are only two basic plots in fiction, novelists occasionally say someone goes on a journey or (its mirror) a stranger comes to town. In Metropolis, her long, slow-moving first novel, Elizabeth Gaffney opts for plot No. 2. Finally, Lenora Todara goes so far as to make up a literary genre to generalize about: Call it deathbed lit a form stretching broadly from Tolstoy s Death of Ivan Ilyich to Michael Ondaajes English Patient The Cigar Roller, the third novel by Pablo Medina, brings the form to the Cuban expatriate community in Florida. Oh, COME ON. Y all are lazy, pretentious assholes.

Jane Austen s Guide to Dating
 By Lauren Henderson
Reviewed by Pamela Paul

Pamela Paul finds Lauren Henderson s dating manual dusty and irrelevant and goes on to systematically pan the book. We were kinda surprised when we got to the last paragraph of the review: If nothing else, Henderson s book suggests that the time has come for an incisive critique of the genre. In the meantime, keep an eye out for The Edith Wharton Guide to Suicide. Whoa there, with the offensive, off-color suicide joke! Who are you, Pamela Paul, us?