I have a dear friend who prefers her fiction sad. That’s my interpretation, anyway. She might say she simply prefers it to be truthful or poignant or even ruefully funny. All of those are true too, I suppose, but I … Continue reading My Writers: Nicole Krauss
“His name was Toby Bell and he was entirely alone in his criminal contemplations. No evil genius controlled him, no paymaster, provocateur or sinister manipulator armed with an attaché case stuffed with hundred-dollar bills was waiting round the corner, no activist in a ski mask. He was in that sense the most feared creature of our contemporary world: a solitary decider.” –John le Carré, A Delicate Truth, 2013 “THEN, MINUTES LATER, CENTURIUS’ ORBITING COLONIZER PLUMMETS FROM THE HEAVENS LIKE A HELLBORN COMET OF DOOM ON A MISSION OF GALACTIC RETALIATION…PLOWING INEXORABLY INTO THE MOUTH OF THE VOLCANO…AS THOUGH IN RETRIBUTION … Continue reading Great Moments in Literature
Not to get overly mired in the process that led to this recurring feature, but I’ll note that when I made my original list of ten writers that had special meaning to me–prompted by a Facebook meme–Jonathan Franzen was one … Continue reading My Writers: Jonathan Franzen
“From zero to two hundred, turn right to go right. “From two hundred to three hundred, turn left to go right. “Faster than three hundred, turn right to go right.” –Rachel Kushner, The Flamethrowers, 2013 “FOR ELIZABETH LANGLEY THE NIGHTMARE IS OVER AS SHE RUNS SCREAMING FROM THIS MAD ALLEYWAY. FOR IN TIME, IF SHE IS LUCKY, SHE WILL FORGET WHAT HAPPENED HERE…BUT FOR THE OTHERS, THIS IS A NIGHTMARE WHICH NEVER ENDS…” –Marv Wolfman, TOMB OF DRACULA, Vol. 1, No. 12, “Night of the Screaming House!” 1973 Continue reading Great Moments in Literature
It seems wrong to structure this as obit, somehow. No one who writes words like that really ends, do they? Elmore Leonard writes–wrote, it’s wrote–with such a pungent, fierce, sly, inspiring, dizzying command of the language, mostly because he understood … Continue reading My Writers: Elmore Leonard
I checked out quite a few plays from the campus library where I went to college. This wasn’t a result of budding theater fandom or idle curiosity, but stemmed directly from the movie review radio program I co-produced and co-hosted. As much as I reasonably could, I tried to consume the source material of films adapted from other mediums before sitting before the newer works as they flickered on the movie screen. Given the limited time I had–I did have assigned text that I was supposed to be reading, after all–I often decided to trying to read plays was a … Continue reading My Writers: Terrence McNally
“He loves me because I’m the kind of person people come to. It’s an attribute he wishes he had, because he’s a teacher. He teaches history in a private school. One time, when we were walking through Chelsea late at night, a nicely dressed old lady leaned over her gate and handed me a can of green beans and a can opener and said, ‘Please.’ On the subway, a man handed me a letter and said, ‘You don’t have to say anything, but please read the paragraph. I just want somebody else to see it before I rip it up.’ … Continue reading Great Moments in Literature
“Back at the beach, Doc collapsed on his couch and drifted toward sleep, but scarcely had he penetrated the surface tension and sunk into REM than the phone began a god-awful clanging. Last year a crazed teenage doper of Doc’s acquaintance had stolen a fire bell from his high school as part of a vandalism spree, and next morning the youth, overcome with remorse and having no idea what to do with the bell, came to Doc and offered it for sale. Downstairs Eddie, who had put in some time with the phone company and was handy with a soldering … Continue reading Great Moments in Literature
“So you suffer through the night with the perfect-on-paper man–the stutter of jokes misunderstood, the witty remarks lobbed and missed. Or maybe he understands that you’ve made a witty remark but, unsure of what to do with it, he holds it in his hand like some bit of conversational phlegm he will wipe away later. You spend another hour trying to find each other, to recognize each other, and you drink a little too much and try and little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, That was fine. And your life is a long … Continue reading Great Moments in Literature
I reserve a significant amount of my personal allotment of scorn for Rolling Stone magazine, mostly due to the misguided impressions it gave me about which portions of classic rock history merited veneration (they sure did like creaky British dudes … Continue reading My Writers: William Greider
Coffee for Two 