Word: roberto
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...there were plenty of challenges for scripters Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, who wrote MI3 and the new generation of Transformers epics, and have worked with Abrams on his TV shows. Their mission was to graft the characters from the original show onto a modern sensibility. Creator Gene Roddenberry was fond of moral and political lessons declaimed by actors in pastel polyesters; that was, after all, the late 1960s, an epoch so distant that the word irony hadn't yet been invented. Solemn homilies had to be replaced by gritty action, and thinky by feelie. (Read Richard Corliss' reviews...
...weeks-old Keste Pizza and Vino in the West Village, easily the most orthodox of the city's new pizzerias, there are no distracting desserts - just old-fashioned pizza and wine. Owner Roberto Caporuscio is not merely a chef - he's the president of the American chapter of the Associazone Pizzaiouli Napoletana, which trains and certifies master pizza-makers. Unsurprisingly, Keste's pizzas are all-Italian - tomatoes, cheeses and flour from the homeland, slid for a minute each into a 1,000-degree volcanic stone oven. There are 18 Keste pies in all - including the Keste, a proscuitto-loaded extravaganza...
...There are many satisfyingly sly flourishes in Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman's script. You probably always assumed, as I did, that McCoy was called "Bones" because he was a doctor. But as he meets Kirk, he's half-drunk and grumbling about how his ex-wife just cleaned him out in a divorce. "All I've got left is my bones," he says woefully. Now there's some back-story...
Though the National Book Critics Circle Award carries no money, its posthumous awarding to Roberto Bolaño for his monster of a work, “2666,” raises a host of unsettling questions about the place of prizes, especially monetized prizes, in the world of letters. It’s not that “2666” was not a great work or that I feel it shouldn’t have won. In fact, though I have to admit I haven’t finished it, I have a hard time believing that there...
Jonathan Littell's The Kindly Ones (Harper; 984 pages) is one of those brutalist European maxi-novels that periodically come soaring at us across the Atlantic as if lofted here by a trebuchet. The last one was Roberto Bolao's 2666, in November. You can recognize them by their seriousness of purpose, their wild overestimation of the reader's attention span and their interest in physical violence that makes Saw look like Dora the Explorer. It's as if these European writers are laughing at their prim American counterparts, with their fussy scruples, the way Sudanese warlords laugh...