Writers can learn a lot from reading Atwood: not just the shape of her sentences, the way she moves seamlessly between topics, but also in those moments when she is very specific about process.
The questions of what constitutes art and who gets to decide have gnawed at me for years. Mark Habers second novel, Saint Sebastians Abyss, addresses these same concerns in ways I wish I had thought to do myself.
Steven Van Zandt's memoir is not a tale of two separate lives. Rather, it is the story of how one can be surprised and rewarded if one manages to stay committed to finding a larger purpose in life than momentary fulfillment.
Straight off, Alberta Arthurs declares that this book was slow in its growth, and we can certainly see whyfrom the magnificent display of thought in many parts, from many places and many celebrated personsit could scarcely have been rushed into print.
I well rememberand thinking memory, how not, in speaking of or reading or writing about Proustthat we were each allowed to choose the place to read from, and how important that choice seemed. And was.
The strange curse of privilege is the proper subject of The Interim.
Have you heard of Mondaugens Law? Named for an engineer in Gravitys Rainbow who studies atmospheric radio signals, it has the economy of an epigram. Here it is in full: Personal density is directly proportional to temporal bandwidth. Temporal bandwidth, by Mondaugens lights, is ones sense of the present moment.
I met novelist Mike DeCapite in 2009, at a performance of East of Bowery, a multimedia show I was doing in collaboration with a mutual friend, photographer Ted Barron. In 2016, DeCapite and Barron invited me to be part of the Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club, a performance series they were running at the Howl! Happening gallery, on East First Street.
Olga Ravns The Employees unpacks like a miraculous gift, alive with changes. Peeling off the first wrap, things look eerie, then at the next mundane, and while the crackle might sound like laughter, it also shivers with terror or poignancy.
In his pre-retirement plaintive wail for institutional relevance, The Authority of the Court and the Perils of Politics, Justice Stephen Breyer laments that education is failing in its task to engender in the general populace an understanding, love, and respect for the rule of law and the pronouncements of the laws final arbiters, the Supreme Court.
When I sat down to read Emme Lunds debut novel, The Boy with a Bird in His Chest, I was expecting to encounter a playfully didactic allegory; however, while the story is certainly playful and arguably didactic, I quickly realized that it was also much more: invitingly poetic, defiantly queer, and lyrical to boot.