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Jodi Angel, author of You Only Get Letters from Jail and Matthew Spektor, author of Amerian Dream Machine reading at Powell's Books Monday, July 22, 7:00pm
In an age of smart phones and cloud storage, few things seem more primitive than a manila folder with a slice of white paper in it, but that’s what I use to keep track of the essays I submit to literary magazines. My system is simple: one folder for each essay I’m submitting, and [...]
This is the third installment of Marcia DeSanctis’s series on three of Russia’s most influental 20th-century writers—Joseph Brodsky, Vladimir Voinovich, and Yuz Aleshkovsky. Joseph Brodsky admired Yuz Aleshkovsky greatly and made an introduction for me. His book Kangaroo, which had just been published by Ardis in the US, was by far my favorite book of 1987 [...]
This is the second installment of Marcia DeSanctis’s series on three of Russia’s most influental 20th-century writers- Joseph Brodsky, Vladimir Voinovich, and Yuz Aleshkovsky. You can read her first disptach here. Vladimir Voinovich — Silenced in 1974 in the USSR and forced to emigrate in 1980. I met Voinovich when he visited the Department of Slavic [...]
In 1986, I was a fledgling researcher at ABC News, and had all but ditched my Russian literature obsession of the last several years. The shelves in my sunless rental on West 73rd Street heaved with the volumes that had nursed me through four years of college. The weathered text of Bely’s Petersburg sat aside [...]
Featuring Jazz Cars, Prague boxers, and James Bond.
A great sprawl, stretching from coast to coast, that focuses in on writers who have made some impact on me this year.
“Fuck I was not ready for this…”
Twenty four years’ difference is the same as a day’s.
Aimee in fact tells me she is a messy cook, she needs slack from the ingredients, and likes to give them slack too.
An excerpt from Karen Russell’s Writer’s Notebook II Essay.
Plath, like no other poet, has been idolized and appropriated and taken ownership of, cast and recast by acolytes as a “suicide doll,” as her daughter, Frieda Hughes, once said. For the many years I’ve spent studying Plath, I’ve worried that I might be behaving this way, too, that even my disdain for what I see as the wrong kind of Plath groupies is proprietary in a way I have no right to be.
An excerpt from Aimee Bender’s “On the Making of Orchards”
Some of the earliest advice I received about writing poetry went like this: stop telling stories.
An excerpt from Maggie Nelson’s “A Sort of Leaning Against.”
In Portland, we were planning to cash in on our privilege.
From a young age, I wanted to create the sort of imagery that I saw in commercial catalogs and magazines. Wordplay as foreplay, mutual obsessions with refuse from a bygone moment. It was from old postcards, vats of glass eyeballs, and stuffed tigers that my sensibility was born.
Granted, Fifth Street, home to this lumpy little house and big open lot, was not really part of the neighborhood, but over the past few weeks it had become quite clear that this block would be the closest to Carroll Gardens my bank account would allow.
Through his journalistic writing, Whitman tapped into the primary concern that would later become the backbone for his poetry: the idea that personal growth emerges from profound empathy and that this self-transformation can be achieved through art.
I notice pinot noir is $10 a glass and have the sudden and overwhelming urge to buy a whole bottle, go outside and guzzle it in the sunshine then smash the empty on the street and run down to the harbor and watch ships go by.
Adam Braver’s newest novel, Misfit, hit shelves this month. The novel centers on the last weekend of Marilyn Monroe’s life, which she spent at Frank Sinatra’s resort, the Cal Neva Lodge, in Lake Tahoe –a resort that played a part in Braver’s childhood. Growing up in Northern California in the 1970s, I regularly went to [...]
“As he presses sponge across marble, does the worker think of his girlfriend and want to claw himself open until he is with her, undoing his decision to leave? Is necessity enough to console him?”
“And remember, honey,” she yells as the door is closing. “It is always better to regret the things we have done than the things we haven’t!”
“Why is the word ‘sex’ always written in English, no matter where you are?”
From Issue 15, Gerald Howard
A few days ago, my friend Michael Silverblatt, the astounding host of KCRW’s Bookworm, invited me to tag along as he interviewed a man who may well be my favorite living writer, Laszlo Krasznahorkai.