Gawker operative Stephen Kosloff went off to the National Book Critics Circle awards last night armed with a banana and a thirst for too much wine. This is what he saw.

National Book Critics Circle Awards attendees congregate at the crossroads of two dying industries (books, news, what have you) on Thursday night at the New School. Friendly yet unsolicited advice to NBCC: the ceremony should have been about 15 minutes shorter. Unexpected development: Ron Charles, the nerdy senior editor at the Washington Post's Book World is actually the funniest bastard in the whole world. Charles took home an award for criticism and encouraged his fellow scribes to think and write in reader-friendly modes rather than acting like jerks.


Ariel Sabar, left, took home the prize for best autobiography. His book, My Father's Paradise: A Son's Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq, is about a son's search for his Jewish past in Iraq, and also contains some nice recipes. To his right is Helene Cooper, who covers the White House for the Times. Her book, The House at Sugar Beach: In Search of a Lost African Childhood, was nominated in the autobiography category, which is cool, but, she lost. (Shortly after this photo was taken she shanked Ariel.) Asked if she had any juicy dirt on Obama, she replied, "Yes, but not for Gawker." Tease!


New York Times man-in-the-trenches Dexter Filkins (second from right) took home the prize for general nonfiction for The Forever War, which I happened to have read. This was a fine book and is suitable for those interested in Iraq, the war on terror, Afghanistan, Calvinism, the marine corps, journalism, astrojunk, and current affairs. Shortly after this photo was taken the blonde woman on the left, a book publicist, lapsed into a fugue state and then vanished into thin air.


Dexter responded to several questions submitted via electronic mail. Please feel free to read them, or just fax them to your friends and move on to other activities.

Q: You wrote that it's actually challenging just talking to people who have not been to Iraq. Is that still true?

A: War is so intense and so strange that it is difficult to talk with anyone who hasn't gone through one. The war in Iraq, in particular, was heartbreaking, and so, at least in my case, I found myself resenting the 99 percent of humanity that had not been through it. I'm coming around, though. It's nice on the outside.

Q: Have the film rights to your book been purchased?

No, they have not. I tried to write a visual book—it's a series of vignettes. The book doesn't have a plot, and it doesn't make an argument, so I think it would be tricky to screen the thing in its entirety. But I think many of the vignettes would move pretty easily to the screen.

Q: Do you buy CDs or download music? What are some songs/bands you've purchased lately?

A large part of me died in Iraq, I think, or at least went into hibernation. I used to listen to music all the time, classical mostly, and in Iraq I stopped. I stopped paying attention to anything that wasn't the war. Nothing else resonated. It's coming back now, I'm happy to say. I'm listening to the soundtrack from Lust, Caution.

Meet Robert Stepanek, a well-dressed man and the creator of a rap opera. Robert related a jarring incident from his past involving Jeff Dowd, the inspiration for Jeff Bridges' character in The Big Lebowski. Seems the Dude, upon hearing a Stepanek pitch, off-loaded him to an underling, who in turn spurned him. Shortly after this picture was taken, Robert protested: "I look kind of bald in that photo." I was like, "Dude, you are in fact bald yet ravishing in your own way, so relax." Behind Robert is Ashley Roberts from Seven Stories Press.


Monica Ferrell is the author of The Answer Is Always Yes, and reported dutifully to Cafe Loup in the Village for post-reception eating and drinking. Seeking to minimize any fall-out from drunkenly informing her that she is an attractive novelist, I advised her in advance that I tend to do that after I've had 14 or 15 drinks. Unfortunately, advising her of this in advance induced the vaguely awkward effect it was meant to avert. An FSG man loiters scarf-tastically in the background.


You can find more of Stephen's work here.