December 06, 2011
Twenty-eleven was a good year, one might even say a banner year, for Greg Olear. The proverbial bouncer whisked me into the proverbial club in many instances when, in the past, I would have been left waiting behind the proverbial velvet rope.
Among the lists I’m proud to have made in 2011: American writers published in the French by Editions Gallmeister; American writers interviewed on French TV; speakers at the Quais du Polar festival in Lyon; authors in the signing booth at BEA; guests at the Authors Guild cocktail party; New Paltz homeowners (and Hudson Valley Magazine feature subjects); novelists noted on the “Hot Type” page of Vanity Fair; guys who have made out with Snooki; novelists noted on the “Full Frontal” page of Penthouse; writers interviewed on the Other People pod (you can’t spell Listi without L-I-S-T); and of course, Los Angeles Times bestsellers (Fathermucker was #15!).
Just kidding about Snooki. I’m not at all proud of that.
But, human nature being what it is, just as my son’s appetite for new Mario games for his Nintendo DS approaches the insatiable, so I find myself wishing that I’d been included on a few more lists this year. Specifically, these ten:
The last name on the list, Washington Redskins owner/football saboteur Dan “The Danny” Snyder, is worth $1.05 billion — just $1.05 billion more than me!
The cover boasts of “123 SUPER HOT GUYS WE LOVE,” and they somehow managed to find 123 guys either hotter or more lovable than Yours Truly. Although, let’s face it, the list is kind of bogus. Bradley Cooper is probably the most attractive dude I’ve ever met, but attractive and sexy are apples and oranges; he wasn’t even the sexiest man in our college production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses, let alone the entire freakin’ world.
The Obamas got snubbed, too, so I don’t feel that bad about this one. And it’s not like I would have gone (much more agreeable to read Jedi’s dispatch from across the pond). But my daughter would have loved to play with the invitation.
You replied to my tweet, Denise…and then you left me for dead. Click the little green icon. Follow @gregolear. Don’t be a tease.
Obviously I was passed over because the wingding was in February, and I didn’t get my name into the magazine until October.
Yes, much of it smacks of what Bret Easton Ellis calls “Empire”. One might even mount an argument that the Gray Lady is out of touch, and this is the literary equivalent of the Grammies. Still, it would sure be swell to be taken note of by the Paper of Record.
No disrespect to the fine work UCSF’s William Seeley is doing integrating microscopy, magnetic resonance imaging, and clinical examination to identify the mechanisms underlying frontotemporal dementia, track disease progression, and create effective therapeutic interventions, but the dude’s a neurologist. Does he really need the hundred large the “Genius Award” comes with? Holla back, Macarthur Selection Committee; Daddy needs a new pair of spats.
While I can’t quibble with a single name in this ménage à dix of literary pulchritude, I will suggest that if ever there were a year to pay homage to the great Nigel Tufnel and make a list go to eleven, 2011 was it. That, and Kunkel can’t kiss.
This one is a joke. Although it is always nice to feel wanted.
There ain’t a harder list to crack. Or one I’d rather be on.