As one who has braved JDate, aka desperatehebrews.com, I know why the caged bird swings in hope. The New York Review of Books and the London Review of Books provide opportunities for the bookish and alone to meet. But Americans and the British have completely different styles when it comes to personal ads. We Americans commodify and market ourselves with can-do! go-get ‘em! spirit that weighs heavily. We’re singing the lyrics from Best Foot Forward to the tune of Sinatra’s One For My Baby, One More For the Road, a torch song beneath the bright, snappy prose composed to wring...
"Have Books Destroyed Your Life, Too?"
(The following originally appeared in Fine Books & Collections magazine on March 20, 2009. I reprint it here at Book Patrol for your enjoyment, and to set up a sequel featuring more from the English-speaking world's lovelorn book lovers).We book folk are often socially inept or, if ept, we'd rather be reading: excepting the occasional clunker, a close relationship with books is very satisfying to the single/divorced and persnickety printslut.But even the most cerebrally occupied must bow to the will of the flesh and the desire for human company. Thus the appearance of personal ads in the New York Review...