IRT Magazine

Why It Is So Much Wiser To Purchase A Book over a Magazine

By: Ed.

So I had this gift card at Barnes and Noble that was burning a hole in my little pocket a week or so ago. Now normally, when I find myself in acquisition of a bookstore gift card, I tend to buy magazines, mostly music magazines. Music magazines that predominantly suck, especially these days. But I’ll pick up wackness like Magnet and Under the Radar kind of the same way my girlfriend will buy copies of In Touch and Star every week. It’s junk food. I’ll read their pablum about Modest Mouse and Bloc Party in less than a half-hour, and then sit on my bed with buyer’s remorse over the fact I just wasted $3.50-$4.99 of my hard earned money.

But on this particular evening, I bucked my habit of wasting valuable store credit on cheesy industry-pandering magazines like, once again, Under The Radar (whose editorial staff seems to have their tongues frozen on the icy, evil dick of the biz like Flick in A Christmas Story), and purchased some actual books this time. Stuff that I always knew I needed in my collection, but procrastinated on purchasing like a mo’fo.

I’m sure the hipsters-that-be will roll their eyes at the trio of choices I’ve picked up. “Oh, if he was any sort of real writer, he would’ve owned these already,” I can hear them whisper to their butt buddies upon reading this piece. But better late than never, foolios.

And unless it is an actual magazine of substance like a MOJO or Wax Poetics or The Believer, I think from here on out I’ll be adding more essential tomes to my home library with future gift cards and store credit and save the rag reading for those comfy chairs set up in the coffee shop area of B & N.

LESTER BANGS

Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung (Serpent’s Tail)

The late, great Grandmaster of rock journalism is sorely, sorely missed at this day and age of nepotist hacks who seem to blow their way to the $1/word gigs that guys like myself, Jack Chester and Thomas Whalen are so much more deserving of. If Lester was writing today, he would probably hear, “She’s not in the office right now. Would you like her voicemail?” or “Oh, the CD must’ve gotten lost in the mail!” more than the sum of the entire population of rock journos marinating on the outer rim of the industry; a sad, sad commentary on the state of music writing in 2007. Long may he blurt!

RIC FLAIR (W/ KEITH ELLIOT GREENBERG)

To Be The Man (Pocket Books)

The greatest wrestler in the history of the sport (yes, I said sport, suckaz!) has written the greatest book in the history of the sport. I hate wrestling these days, man. If you thought it was fake before, it’s like a goddamn sin these days, with all its soap opera storylines and juiced-up jabronis with about as much personality as Lord Alfred Hays’ tuxedos. Even pushing 60, the Nature Boy still takes fans to school every week with the kind of charisma that makes you want him to run for President (even though he is down with Bush - Ric, we gotta talk about that, dawg). I picked up his autobiography on the bargain table for the same money I would have spent on the new issue of PASTE. And reading about his life in the ring, 30-odd years of road stories, backstage folklore and slice-of-life testimonials about some of the greatest men to grace the squared circle, makes me very proud to have spent my credit wisely. Plus, at this point in my life, I’d much rather read about Wahoo McDaniel than Bloc Party. And that’s a fact, Jack! Whoooooo!

HOWARD ZINN

A People’s History Of The United States (Harper)

Why I didn’t purchase this book back in high school, when my social studies teachers were feeding us misleading lies about the truth behind the birth of our nation is beyond me. Once I get my teaching certificate and start schooling the youth, you better believe A People’s History is going to be on my required reading list. Whooooo!

Last Modified : February 9th, 2007
Filed under : Books
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