Thursday, May 6, 2010

Philadelphia Falafel Project review #2 - Maoz Vegetarian

Maoz Vegetarian
248 South Street
1115 Walnut Street
www.maozusa.com

Falafel - ***
General food - ****
Dining - ** 1/2 (South St) / *** (Walnut St)
Cost - $5.50ish large sandwich with hummus, $7ish platter

I took a stroll over to what used to be Chickpea's, and Mama's (Non-Vegetarian) before that, over around 7th and South, only to find it appropriately gone. Chickpea's was the latest mediocre manifestation in a strange phenomenon I've previously gestured at - the Euro-minded, falafel-centered, fast food joint veiled behind the curtain of vegetarianism. Chickpea's now joins Philly Falafel (17th and Sansom) and the superlative Pita Shack (16th & Chancellor) in the grave of short-lived fast-food falafellers. This is appropriate background information to review before turning our attention to Maoz, my alternate destination. After all kids, it was Maoz that started this whole thing, picking Philly's hipster burn-out South Street as their flagship American location after success across Western Europe. Consider the template - you get your falafel, you pick a white or wheat pita, you dump as many condiments as fit in there from the fixin's bar before your pita falls apart, and decide whether or not you're hungry enough to find room in your belly for french fries (ahem - Belgian chips.) Pretty simple, and pretty effective. Where Maoz continues to reign supreme among their competitors is in the fixin's bar itself, rotating the crops occasionally to see what tastes good with falafel - and I'll tell you what tastes good with falafel: beets, pickles, and killer habanero sauce. Where Maoz lacks a bit is in the "meat" of the meal, if you will - both falafel and hummus are a bit lackluster, devoid of any robust distinguishing flavor flourishes. The falafel gets centrist marks, however, thanks to its successful texture, and the wealth of the sides makes the food experience well worth the cost of admission. The South Street location is severely crippled by its horrific claustrophobia, but garners half a star for staying open until 3 AM - hang around in Philly long enough, and I promise that the night will come where you need to take advantage of that perk.

Now that we've looked at this interesting falafel joint phenomenon, I hope to focus future reviews on some more old school approaches to the deep-fried chickpea represented by some older Philly institutions.

Philadelphia Falafel Project review #1 - Mama's Vegetarian

Mama's Vegetarian
18 S. 20th St.
www.mamasvegetarian.com

Falafel - ****
General food - ****
Dining - ** 1/2
Cost - $6 large sandwich, $3.50 small sandwich, $8 platter

One of the best restaurants to spring out of the falafel boom, Mama's gets it right with a well-constructed sandwich available quickly and at an acceptable price. Don't waste your time with a small sandwich unless you are too hungover to eat a real meal. The falafel balls are dense and mid-sized, with the perfect balance of textures. The hummus is exceptionally creamy, perhaps acting as the meal's strongest component. Both the large sandwich and platter fill out the meal with lightly vinegared tomato, cucumber and cabbage, all pretty tasty for space-fillers, and the small fixin's bar features smokin' chili sauce, delicious pickled radishes and fried cauliflower, although it is often understocked during lunch hours. The lunch hour concern is present for the falafel joint, however, as its diminutive dining area is quickly stuffed with Center City suited types. The place is much more pleasant during the off-hours, when one can keep close and unobstructed company with the fixin's bar. (Note - the short-lived second location at 7th and South is now gone. This is just as well, for the vegetarian-only 20th Street location was preferable to begin with.)

The Philadelphia Falafel Project commences

Folks, as a Philadelphia native and ceaseless falafel gobbler, I've been seeking to document the Philadelphia falafel scene for quite some time now. Maybe it's the alliterative ring of the two words in succession - maybe I've wanted an excuse to eat as much falafel as possible. Regardless, the quest here is to visit and review every falafel vendor that I can find here in the City of Brotherly Love before my planned relocation a year from now.

Here's how it will work: I'll rank three elements of the restaurant based on the five-star system, then embark on a general review. The ranking will go as follows:
Falafel - falafel quality, referring strictly to the falafel balls themselves
General food - general food quality, referring to all non-falafel elements in the falafel-centered meal
Dining - feel of location, charm of ownership and other peripheral concerns regarding the dining experience
Cost - not ranked, simply reported

A few notes before we begin. Number 1, I am a vegan, so I will only be ranking the vegan components in a given restaurant's menu - but more importantly, I'm not out to review restaurants that serve falafel, but the falafel itself. Number 2, I am cheap and broke, so references to cost should be taken from such a slant. Number 3, I've been eating falafel in the city for a long time, so I know that some part of me is stuck in the past regarding some of these locations - this may potentially slant my bias towards the older vendors.

Philadelphia's falafel scene took a radical turn circa 2004, when Maoz opened their original (and still extant) South Street location, serving falafel replete with unlimited access to a fixin's bar. Prior to this, falafel was relegated to a novelty item on a handful Mediterranean menus; suddenly, with the falafel a proven success as the focal point of a restaurant, falafel joints popped up all over Center City, mostly modeled (I presume) on Maoz's innovation. Around 2007, I estimate that the Center City area alone had seven restaurants focusing their menus on falafel, but the country's economic rut, doubtlessly in tandem with other factors, has reduced that number a bit. Now, I seek to pick up the pieces and see what's out there, getting my body out of the house and subsequently stuffed with falafel. Let the games begin....

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

NoMeansNo and Uz Jsme Doma remind us how well it can be done

I think the emergence of new records by the two best extant rock bands on the planet warrants a revival of the blog, don't you?

The fact of the matter is that neither record has been officially released and I thus haven't heard the entirely of either despite substantial internet leakage. But the headline remains the same - a new record each from NoMeansNo and Uz Jsme Doma, the first in four and seven years respectively. May 2010 will see more great, new music than the previous several years. Hallelujah. Let's take a closer look at these two musical powerhouses, shall we?

Canada's so-called "punk jazz" (might I suggest "smirking nihilo-prog"?) trio NoMeansNo really are about as dark as it gets, despite the deceptively goofy gloss, writing yo-ho-ho anthems for the Dionysian apocalypse brewing in the heart of every mustached suburban minivan dad. Read the lyrics kids, this really is as good as you're going to get this side of Steely Dan. Musically, they've found a way to squeeze the entire spread of regional punk dialects into a single sound that, let's be honest, doesn't sound like anything else at all - just because the guy can play bass really well doesn't mean that they actually sound like the Minutemen, thank you. The "guy" I refer to is, of course, bassist and primary songwriter Rob Wright, the most operative of three creative personalities in the band that helps construct their dynamic inhale-exhale tension. 2000's "One" album, like most NoMeansNo records, focused on Rob's ponderous anomalies to breathtaking results, but perhaps the utterly unjust lukewarm reviews it received pushed the followup, 2006's "All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt", more heavily into the realm of songs written by drummer John Wright and guitarist Tom Holliston, resulting in a slightly sub-par (but nonetheless spiritually overwhelming) record centered around the punkier sensibilities of these latter two. Whatever, it's a really good record - they're ALL really good records. And yes, 30+ years into their career, they still lay it down with balls - they've been opening their sets with the new tune "Old", a good 'n ugly dirge that completely confounds audiences and seems to suggest the boys have discovered Candlemass, or at the very least dusted off the sloggier Sabbath. Other new songs seem mixed - "Jubilation" is brutal lyrically but reaches too far into pop for dissonant juxtaposition to retain its edge; "Slave" seems gleefully nasty. We'll see how the production treats the material - "Tour EP #1" is the name of the new four song 12" due shortly, to be followed by another EP later this year.

The Czech prog-punkers Uz Jsme Doma are the opposite of NoMeansNo on a few counts - first, with the 2001 departure of founding saxophonist Jindra Dolansky, they've been reduced to a one-man compositional show, balanced strictly around the creative forces of Miroslav Wanek. As such, they've really served to maintain a singular sound through their entire 25 year career, with each record acting as a new capitulation of their singular sonic statement. The good news for the world is that this is statement is incredibly rich, with some of the most extensive and subtle melodic nuance imaginable for a four-piece rock band. Seriously, the volume of musical ideas per song is baffling, with sheer melodiousness underpinning even the most abstract and technical of arrangements. (For more on this great band, check out their Wikipedia article here, but be warned that I wrote the thing.) The new album is called "Jeskyne", due out in mere days. The material seems to be on a par with their best work, utilizing the muscle of spectacular new bassist Pepa Cervinka and the fiery brass of trumpeter Adam Tomasek while reducing the compositional ambition a hair from the career high represented in 2003's "Rybi tuk", their most recent effort. The songs are, of course, as achingly gorgeous as ever, with the threat of an ugly turn lurking around the corner of every hook. The seamlessness of bliss into gloom - it's a metaphor, kids, and it's an idea that both bands happen to excel at expressing. Take notes and compare it to your own experiences.

To the extent that rock music can influence one's non-musical perspective, these two bands have loomed over my outlook towards the world for some time now. Neither of them puts out records too often, and I'm excited to have a stab at new music from them both for the first time in a long time. If I have anything to add to this anticipatory synopsis after hearing the actual records, I will post it here. Meanwhile, if you're uninitiated into either of these groups, spend some time on YouTube and whet your appetite - but in both cases, the real way to experience the band is through a thorough investigation into the entirety of their respective back catalogues. Each has made a profound statement through the whole of its output, creating a dynamic body of work stronger as a whole than even the strongest of its single parts can indicate. I'm quite excited that both of these singular statements are still being expanded upon.

Monday, August 31, 2009

'My Sister and I'/Nietzsche update

I haven't posted my thoughts on my re-read of My Sister and I yet because I've agreed to present a paper on it, thus expanding the scope of my project and focusing my energy regarding the subject elsewhere. I suppose after that ordeal is completed I'll post a more complete capitulation of my thoughts here.

For the time being, suffice it to say that after a more careful read it really, really does not seem to me that Nietzsche wrote the darn thing. A quick cross-referencing of the "Index" thrown together in the back of the text is revelatory (beyond its sloppy and frequently incorrect composition.) Compare the selected anecdotes on (say) Kant within the text to those of Voltaire, or the oft-noted Stendhal references. The former are unconfident, simply biographical and/or poorly constructed rewrites of the thinker in question's most famous doctrines, while the author of My Sister and I is a lot more comfortable digging into literary figures. This to me is in keeping with Walter Kaufmann's claim that a literary author (David George Plotkin - or was it George David?) is responsible for the forged work.

The sum of the Kantian references in My Sister and I are as follows: Eleven references altogether - two simple name-checks, two biographical anecdotes (both surrounding his lack of travel), five vague references to his philosophy (one simply calling Kant "untidy", two mentioning his refutation via Schopenhauer, and two brief mentions of his moral philosophy, the "Kantian ought" and what the author calls his defeat at the bite of the "tarantula of morality" - essentially just glorified name-drops.) Two entire aphoristic "chapters" (i.e., paragraphs) are dedicated to Kant - Chapter 6: Section 56 and Chapter 8: Section 13. The former attacks the Kantian "common good" without seeming to understand Nietzsche's critique of it - i.e., his rejection of Kant's ontological ethics and the categorical imperative. "Kant has in mind what he thinks is the common good of the community?" the text awkwardly asks. "But what is the common good? And was Kant the man best qualified to perceive it for us?" While it is at least arguable that this paragraph was an absent-minded knock-off not intended to dive deep into Kantian critique, it is instead clear to me that the author of the text is working with a limited grasp of Kant and therefore can't quite put his finger on the Nietzschean objection and is therefore skirting the issue with a vague and not quite characteristic response. The second aphoristic "chapter" (again, paragraph) on Kant insists that the philosopher in question should have spent "ten years teaching philology" to better understand morality, but again sounds weakly informed and more impressed by biography (Kant's immobility dislike of travel is again referenced) than philosophy.

Anyway, it goes on and on folks - this is just a taste of my thoughts. We'll talk about this some more shortly down the road, although with my workload back up to full and the gas gauge pushing empty, I apologize for any delays we may incur.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Review of Cracker's "Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey"

I have decided that it is high time to gear the content of this burgeoning blog towards readers outside of the 'biographical Nietzsche' niche. As a long-time music lover with what I like to think of as diverse tastes, I imagine it inevitable that this blog will begin to house some music reviews and ruminations, although I don't want it to dissolve into the cesspool of boring rock music blogs that are out there. That being said, here's a review of a record from a group that lies outside of my core interests but that I've nonetheless followed closely throughout their career.

"Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey," the latest record from alt-country-rock outfit Cracker, is an unexpected kick in the pants. After beating a decade-long lull with their bittersweet 2006 "Greenland" album, the band here sounds wide awake, revitalized, and hungry. Apparently the dissolve of the Bush administration has enabled the lads to break out of the rut that was their critique-cum-celebration of backwards Americana and step confidently back into literate, heavy riff rock, amplifying their omnivorous roots music with an unprecedented hard edge. Indeed, the band has never sounded as alive as they do on "Yalla Yalla (Let's Go)", the album's opener, its titular closer, or "I Could Be Wrong, I Could Be Right", in which singer David Lowery's vocals push into the red for a glorious instant. The sardonic country ("Friends") and radio-friendly pop-rock ("Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out With Me") moments are kept to a tasteful minimum, benefiting from lean production and especially effective songwriting, while the Buzzcocks-esque "Hand Me My Inhaler" and "Time Machine" fly in from left field and sail straight out of the ballpark on the strength of their wit and simplistic punch. All and all this is really refreshing stuff from a smart but inconsistent band who in the recent past felt compelled to cheekily document their split from Virgin Records in an eight-verse slogger ("It Ain't Gonna Suck Itself") and pen an awful, self-congratulatory rap ("What You've Been Missing") tacked awkwardly onto the end of their 2002 "Forever" record. With "Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey", Cracker is at the peak of its game, writing sharp and hard-hitting roots rock songs that take their project seriously while leaving plenty of room for a smirk. 9.0/10 (429 Records - www.429records.com)

Monday, August 10, 2009

More on the disputed Nietzsche

I hungrily devoured my Nietzsche - My Sister and I: A Critical Study, the 2007 work by Walter Stewart that makes a case for the apocrypha Nietzsche work My Sister and I, long taken to be a forgery, as a potentially legitimate work. I have to say that I am impressed. Stewart's work is not without a few minor points of contention, but on the whole he makes an excellent case for a re-examination of the work. While I am still apt to lean towards a vote for its illegitimacy, I am in complete agreement with Stewart that a true, thorough examination of the nuts and bolts of the text has never been undertaken, and that such a project should be begun immediately for the sake of the revelations it will inevitably unveil.

Consult my post from a few days ago for the back story if you're presently in need of it; otherwise, we can move on to Stewart's many arguments. I couldn't hope to make the case any better than he - rather I want to summarize what struck me as the argument's strengths and point out a few possible objections.

Stewart begins by making the excellent point that Nietzsche's condition between late January 1889-March 1890, or the time between confinement to the mental facility in Jena following his mental breakdown and eventual release, is criminally misunderstood and misrepresented. Kaufmann, for one, seems stubbornly insistent that Nietzsche remained all but utterly incoherent during this timeframe and while Stewart doesn't deny Nietzsche's clear dementia during much of this time, he wants to emphasize the extended period of lucidity that Nietzsche expressed that most of his biographers, particularly Kaufmann, ignored and/or denied. That Peter Gast believed for a time that Nietzsche was faking his insanity is significant, (and is an under-documented fact that is represented in the text of My Sister and I that adds to the case for the book's validity.) Kaufmann's position as the authoritative and definitive voice in Nietzsche scholarship should here be questioned. Stewart does a decent job of addressing some of Kaufmann's specific claims against My Sister and I's legitimacy, such as the Detroit problem being related to Nietzsche's excitement at his growing audience in America and his documented passing knowledge in unknown cities like Baltimore (thus implying that Nietzsche could have easily had Detroit on the brain - not a case-closer, but not a bad point, and one that I will further expand upon in consideration of the author of the work's overall success at capturing biographical minutia.) Other cursory textual issues are relatively well-addressed by Stewart, from quite convincingly to semi-spuriously. Stewart also points out that while Roth is of quite dubious literary distinction, he was not actually a forger of any literary works, merely a copyright infringer and peddler of pornography. As for Levy's daughter's denial of her father's involvement in the translation, Stewart points out that the text would have been controversial and spelt the possibility of jail time for parties involved and thus did not relate information about the work to his daughter or wife, both of whom were generally involved in his career from office work to more technical academia. Again, not really a conclusive argument, but one solid enough to proceed with our examination.

One promise I'd heard that excited me about Stewart's study prior to reading it was the claim that letters and journals discovered post-1951 had been found that definitively struck a connection between Nietzsche and the authorship of My Sister and I based on themes touched upon only in these two sources and nowhere else in the Nietzsche canon. This promise was not quite delivered - rather, in the material that Stewart presents we have some highly suggestive and strong connections that remain only circumstantial, albeit tantalizingly so. Three examples that I found particularly strong: 1.) A reference to the nobility of Egyptian brother-sister incest as preserving the strong was found in a stricken section of Ecce Homo. References to Nietzsche and Elisabeth's incest, of course, abound in My Sister and I and are frequently coupled with references to the Egyptians. Who do you think struck that section from Ecce Homo? You guessed it, Nietzsche's literary butcher, Elisabeth Foerster-Nietzsche. 2.) My Sister and I's puzzling reference to Bakunin, a figure that appears nowhere in any of Nietzsche's writing that I was aware of (and Stewart confirmed this), was validated by an obscure section of Cosima Wagner's diary, which mentioned Nietzsche's exposure to and opinions on Bakunin. 3.) The consistent misspelling of Julius Langbehn as Julius Langbein. The name of this figure who appeared well into Nietzsche's period of illness to attempt to cure him never appears misspelled in any Nietzsche biography, but the ambiguity of the German pronunciation and spelling would lead someone who had never seen the name in print but heard it spoken - as would be the case with Nietzsche himself but not someone researching his later years - to be as apt to spell it the latter (incorrect) way as the former (correct).

Stewart has half a dozen or so similar points in which Nietzsche's obscure, un-translated or completely unknown tastes, conditions, and thoughts are recreated faithfully in My Sister and I. This, of course, raises the natural question (which was briefly addressed previously in connection to Detroit) - if the author is doing such an impeccable job representing the obscurities of Nietzsche's thoughts, why is he butchering simple details like the year of his sister's return to Germany from Paraguay, Nietzsche's age at the time, and the state of American cities at the time of the book's composition - details that led scholars like Kaufmann to give the book a quick dismissal? Well, maybe the author is a demented, incarcerated intellectual!

Or maybe not. I only have a few lingering concerns that Stewart did not address, but they seem significant. First, why did the publishing company lie about the number of editions the work received? My copy claims to have been published in 1955 (four years after the book's appearance) and to be on the 13th edition. This simply cannot be factual, as the book was invalidated in 1953 by Kaufmann and essentially relegated to the realm of pulp-schlock distribution thereafter. To me, the fact that the publishing company was clearly lying about their success in distributing the book was an instant red flag - that is a sure sign that the publishers were involved in a conscious hoax, giving the book excess printing statistics to manufacture its undeserved legitimacy which once refuted would strike a serious blow against its overall validity. One possible way of addressing this may be in the publishing company itself - it seems that Roth's original company, Seven Sirens, was behind the initial printings of the book, but my copy is alternately ascribed to Boar's Head Books and Bridgehead Books, which means that mine might have come from a second party intent only on deceiving and profiting. Roth clearly had issues with scruples when it came to publishing, so it is natural to assume that he would stoop to such measures simply out of habit. But if he truly believed that he had the unpublished, undocumented final Nietzsche work in his hands to treat as he saw fit, why would he revert to deception here? The fishiness abounds.

My second major objection returns to the text. My initial reading of the book was clouded by my suspicions and biases against it, as I read all but the introduction and first 30 pages with the knowledge that it had been rejected by nearly all Nietzsche scholars, and thus I was apt to find fault with the text. Nonetheless, I cannot shake the nagging feeling that the philosophical elements within the text seem amateurish. Stewart feels that the author of My Sister and I perfectly captured Nietzsche's tastes in philology, music, politics, etc., and while I am not enough of an expert on any of these subjects to have an opinion, my sophomoric understanding of philosophy leads me to be skeptical that this could be true of Nietzsche's philosophical musings. His voice in his canonical works is true dynamite, synthesizing and cross-referencing concepts throughout the history of philosophy, refuting and reworking them prior to even thoroughly signifying them. Many of the points in My Sister and I ("If Plato is right and my mind will live forever...", "We are all crucified on the cross of reason...") simply sound ill-formed, uninformed and uninspired. Stewart would point out that my opinion here is subjective (and he would be right), and that Nietzsche was indeed demented during the period that this would have been written (right again), but I cannot shake the feeling that the supposed Nietzsche's philosophical muscle is so far depleted that, dementia or not, it has arrived at the point of sounding illegitimate.

However, I am by no means claiming to be any kind of Nietzsche expert with any hope to crack this case through my own analytic prowess, merely a humble Nietzsche novice who finds himself quite taken by this mystery and is seeking personal resolution through the means available. As such, I plan on re-reading My Sister and I with much more care than I gave my first read, trying to consider the content from a more open-minded stance (and with a better understanding of his condition and chronology in Jena along with a refreshed sense of his late biographical details) to reach a more informed opinion. The text seemed so overwhelmingly pulp to me in my first read that I simply refused to consider the possibility of its legitimacy. Will a second read change that? Keep your browser tuned to this blog and in coming days to find out!

Monday, August 3, 2009

The ontological properties of freight train hopping

In 2003, Philosophy professor Cliff Williams of Trinity College published an excellent book called One More Train to Ride, which I recently took in and greatly enjoyed. Therein, Williams speaks with numerous 'modern' (i.e., not only post-Depression-era but post-Reagan-era) American freight train hoppers and allows the ideologies of the anti-movement to unfold through the stories, song lyrics and art of the interviewees. Williams' detached journalism paints a full and, in the opinion of one familiar with the lifestyle and subculture, quite accurate picture of the nuanced dialectic of the ultimate freedom and addictive solitude that is train hopping. Nonetheless, after hearing that a Philosophy professor wrote a book on train hopping I am somewhat disappointed that Williams opted against including his own analysis of the lifestyle above and beyond the mostly unstated implications of the stories he collects, strong as they are. Perhaps the modern hobo lifestyle is best depicted on its own terms, and a deeper analysis of the phenomenon would crumple under the weight of the empty and overwrought terms, such as 'nihilism' and 'anarchism', that would be necessary to employ in analyzing it.

With that possibility in mind, I've begun brainstorming my own "philosophy of train hopping." (I read somewhere that Homer Simpson was analogous to Aristotle, so if you think my idea is stretching it, I direct your attention to the schlocky shelves of your local chain bookstore for far worse examples.) This thesis is forthcoming, as it will require a bit of yarn-spinning, but I will keep you posted. Meanwhile,
pay Cliff Williams' page dedicated to his book a visit. The book is a recommended to we vicarious travelers presently imprisoned in our functional and satisfying day-to-day lives while dreaming of another world filled with open skies and train grease.

Friday, July 31, 2009

"Disputed Nietzsche" Re-disputed

Today I stumbled into a used, vintage copy of My Sister and I, a hard-bound and nondescript book attributed to Friedrich Nietzsche. I was surprised to find a work by Nietzsche whose name I didn't recognize, but knowing the recent publishings of Nietzschean manuscripts and notebooks I thought little of it. Cracking it open at the coffeeshop I was utterly shocked to find in the book's introduction (credited to early Nietzsche scholar Oscar Levy) allegations of incest between Nietzsche and his sister Elisabeth! The relationship between Nietzsche and his sister is itself the stuff of legend, with Elisabeth having famously plunged into fascism while attempting to take the reputation of her poor brother, then an invalid, with her - so why was this the first time I'd heard of this despite reading so much Nietzsche?

Further things struck me as funny. The biographical points didn't sit well with my understanding of Nietzsche's chronology. So far as I'd extracted from countless sources, his deteriorating mind immediately left him on January 3rd, 1889. This was followed by a series of confounding, seemingly non-sensical letters (the eerie "Madness Letters") and absolutely no more writing; whereas the introduction to My Sister and I had it that while imprisoned in a mental asylum in Jena (a historically factual event) Nietzsche wrote a second autobiographical manuscript following Ecce Homo, which was smuggled out of the institution by a fellow patient to avoid the scrutiny (also historically factual) of Nietzsche's family. My previous understanding of the time between his March 1889 commitment and early 1890 release was that he was utterly incognizant and incapable of holding a pen.

Furthermore, the voice employed by Nietzsche in My Sister and I seemed fishy. While his 1888 writings employed an evolutionarily linear style characterized by increasing megalomania and hyperbole, My Sister and I seemed to be a polite return to his Beyond Good and Evil (1883) style, and more digestible and transparent than ever. I smelt a rat, and started vaguely remembering references to an apocrypha Nietzsche work.

Sure enough, I slogged home on my bike in the rain and went straight to the internet, and there it was - My Sister and I was a forgery almost immediately recognized as a hoax, denounced by Nietzsche translator gurus Walter Kaufmann and Oscar Levy (via his daughter, as Levy was dead four years before the first publication and discovery of the work) and omitted with near universality from the Nietzsche canon. First of all, there was no original German manuscript - the publisher of the original book claims it was lost. Kaufmann pointed out several examples, such as a mistranslation from the King James Version of the Bible and a reference to dogs and women as "bitches", where "Nietzsche"'s puns relied on the English language and simply couldn't have been conceived in German. The book was tied to Samuel Roth, a highly controversial publisher who did time in jail for unauthorized publishings of Joyce's Ulysses and who stood in highly dubious standing in the academic community. Kaufmann also claimed to have later received a ghostwriting confession from a little-known minor author named David George Plotkin - although as far as I can tell, no record of this admission exists beyond a footnote in Kaufmann's Nietzsche biography. Other, more recent critics pointed out that a list of "fascinating American cities" in the text was fronted by Detroit, a complete unknown city in pre-automotive 1890. They also note that the publishers of the original book claim nine editions (mine says thirteenth!), and this number surely cannot be correct and is being used as a tool of false legitimation.

So an open and shut case of literary forgery, right? Not so fast - fortunately for we lovers of a good mystery, there are some complications. It seems that around 1986 or so, scholarship slowly started opening itself up to the possibility that My Sister and I was legitimate. First of all, it seems that the book's quick dismissal could've come at the hands of its controversial content - not only did "Nietzsche" admit incest, but also an affair with Cosima Wagner (the wife of Richard of "Flight of the Valkyries" fame) and numerous other lurid sexual relations. Could Nietzsche's biographers be too stubborn to be open to this new damning information? There is also the claim that recently discovered letters of confirmed Nietzsche composition reveal information and display writing styles that, in the view of some, undeniably have the same author as My Sister and I. Spearheading this argument is Walter K. Stewart, whose book Nietzsche: My Sister and I - A Critical Study (my copy is in the mail!) stridently defends this stance in 188 pages. Also on board is Kathleen J. Wininger, who did her PhD work at Temple University - she has written an article on the subject which I am frustratingly unable to access. In addition to taking up the argument of the book's positive authorship, Stewart has a theory relating to the dogmatic process of canonization that he feels this case to be an example of - and I too am certainly critical of the arbitrary and subjective values employed in canonization. The 1990s reprint of My Sister and I by Amok Books is also apparently convinced of the book's legitimacy.

I suppose that my stance is pending a read of Stewart's book, but I must say that I am at this point quite convinced that My Sister and I is a certain forgery. My main consideration is the text itself. I find it very hard to believe that the explosion of Ecce Homo could be followed but such banalities (although the disarmingly benign Nietzsche Contra Wagner that would theoretically bridge the two autobiographies certainly presents a curious voice). RJ Hollingdale described My Sister and I as "pulp fiction" in a footnote, and I think this best describes the character of the book - it is front-ended with sexuality and seems to treat Nietzsche's biographical information and typical self-referencing spiel as a meaningless and arbitrary formality, bopping around from subject to subject without rhyme or reason and ignoring Nietzsche' sensational-yet-sensible flow of thought. The aphorisms are empty and redundant, and the philosophical thought is simply incapable of operating beyond base nominative ability. Ultimately, it is simply not as clever, literate or informed as the true Nietzsche.

However, I am hungry for a good counter-argument as I find the opaqueness of Nietzsche's biography endlessly fascinating. I eagerly await my copy of Stewart's book and will report back when it's been digested. Meanwhile, there aren't too many good spots for further reading to direct interested parties towards - here is Denis Dutton's review of the Amok Books reprint, and here is the Wikipedia article, much of which was written tonight by me, but which also has extensive print references.

Opening address

I've started a blog mainly with the intention of creating originally-written sources to reinforce claims I make in Wikipedia articles.  This isn't my first attempt at creating a personal blog - hopefully this one will stick.  The blog bears the name of my radio show circa 2001 and long-running personal e-mail address mainly due to a lack of recent ideas.  I assume the content of this beast will reflect my minimal interests, including rock, jazz and world musics, philosophy, Toynbee Tiles, and cats.