This week's coverage of the Times Book Review is a day late, but hardly a dollar short. Intern Alexis got so wrapped up in the wild world of John Irving's penis and Julianne Moore's vaginal endorsements, she barely had the wherewithal to tackle a sidelined Christopher Hitchens and the shape of gay literature. So, to recap, after the jump you've got genitalia, Hitch, and The Gays. If that's not the best book review ever, we don't know what is.

Until I Find You
 By John Irving
Reviewed by Paul Gray

So, it turns out that John Irving's new novel, according to Paul Gray, is really just about Jack, the 8-year-old protagonist, and his "little guy," or, you know, his penis. Throughout the review, there's a whole lot of "little guy" talk (the phrase is used four times) and a lengthy discussion of a young Jack watching foreign films as various older girls hold his penis. This all made us feel pretty dirty inside.

This image was lost some time after publication.

Then we looked at the cover (at right), an Andre Carrilho etching of Mr. Irving, and it very well might have been all the penis on the brain, but doesn't it kind of look like Irving, if he opened his hand, maybe would reveal a small, 8-year-old penis? Like a piece of a seaglass or a caterpillar? Ew, we can't believe we just said that. We're going to take a shower now.


Essay: Out of the Closet and Off the Shelf


By David Leavitt

David Leavitt goes on and on about the decline of the gay bookstore, why that makes him happy, the difference between gay and post-gay literature and the rather odd admission that "I'm for stepping into the post-gay future - which is why, every time I go into a Borders, I move a few books from the gay fiction shelf to the general fiction section, restoring them to their rightful place in the alphabetical and promiscuous flow of literature." First off, a post-gay future would mean that Leavitt wouldn't be able to enjoy the boy on boy rim jobs at Boy's Room on Saturday night. And secondly, that's just weird and sort of like Uncle Creepo that he moves the books.


Thomas Jefferson: Author of America
 By Christopher Hitchens
Reviewed by Ted Widmer

Whoa there ho there, we blinked and almost missed this tiny, bottom of the right hand page, review of Christopher Hitchens's new book on Thomas Jefferson. Hitchens, a regular NYTBR contributor, got the short end of the stick fo' real! It's not a particularly good review, nor is it a particularly bad review. Just sort of a review for the sake of a review. This is weird since the folks at the NYT highlighted Hitchens' review of The Secret Man by putting it on the web days before the NYTBR came out. But we guess not every favor can get called in, no matter how many drinks you put on your tab.


Essay: A Feminist Classic Gets a Makeover
 By Alexandra Jacobs

After all of Gray's "little guy" references and Emily Nussbaum's review of Kathryn Harrison's new book in which she mentions Harrison's earlier book about father-fucking, we didn't think we could handle any more NYTBR sex. But then Alexandra Jacobs came in to end the proclivities with her review of the newly published edition of "Our Bodies Ourselves." In the new (pink) version, Julianne Moore says nice things on the jacket, there's a long bit on the increasing popularity of bikini waxes and marriage is considered a-OK, and in fact, encouraged. Jacobs, however, pines for the pen-and-ink sketches of six different kind of hymens that did not make it into the newest edition.

Ahh, the good old days.