Word: lucidities
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...falling out last year with Oprah Winfrey, it was hard to tell that Jonathan Franzen is one of the most nuanced minds at work in the dwindling republic of letters. It's easy to tell that from How to Be Alone (Farrar, Straus & Giroux; 278 pages), a collection of lucid, saturnine essays that have appeared in various magazines since 1994. Franzen is not the first serious writer to mourn the slow death of serious reading or to be worried about the decay of the moral imagination, each a continuing subtheme in a book that lights upon everything from the Chicago...
...Pervez Musharraf survives the inevitable anger in the streets that a U.S. war with Iraq would unleash, Pakistan's bitter dispute with India over Kashmir will remain, posing a constant threat of war between two nations with nuclear arms. Weaver, a foreign correspondent for the New Yorker, is a lucid and compelling guide through the nasty predicament that is Pakistan. Just don't expect her to be a comforting one. --By Richard Lacayo
...scene. When Knoxville comes to, they walk him outside the swap meet and prop him up against a wall. "I'm Johnny Knoxville. Come see the movie, and you'll see why I have to get stitches," he says clearly, in what turns out to be his last completely lucid moment of the day. That's when Cindy Mendoza, 15, spots him. "Dude, it's Jackass. Dude, I watch your show every night at 10. How come you didn't bring Steve-O? Dude...
...like communism in the old days--has its optimists, who imagine a future of triumphant international decency, and its pessimists, who think expecting people to be nice is a mug's game. David Rieff is a pessimist--a gloomy pessimist at that. At the end of his ruthlessly lucid book A Bed for the Night: Humanitarianism in Crisis (Simon & Schuster; 367 pages), Rieff, with disconsolate satisfaction, quotes Alberto Navarro, former director of the European Commission Humanitarian Aid Office, as saying, "Mankind is slowly, but in a very determined way, going back to barbarism...
...Deceptively innocent-looking Jordan J. Evans ’06, originally from England and Chelsea’s oldest Harvard friend (they met within two hours of beginning dorm crew), prefaces the night by saying, “We apologize if we’re not quite lucid. [Simmons and I] have been tailgating at Brown all day.” By 9:30, the group reaches Pennypacker and flies upstairs to meet the rest of their friends. Inside the room, a wooden coffee table (found outside Pinocchio’s) holds several half-empty bottles of high-end liquor...