As writers we always want both, and smile when someone we know displays both in their work. It’s especially useful when navigating the world of books — especially, perhaps, of those with any magical/SF element, where genius has to struggle for visibility amid blatant trash. I’m happy to report the arrival of my kid sister’s newContinue reading “grace and authority”
Now we find out who that was. And I’m crying, for that knowledge feels long stolen. It’s a little startling, to see in the pages of the New Yorker, that the code once represented by Carver’s name – code for laconic, tight, minimal prose, Hemingway on cheap beer – was a mirage. In the lateContinue reading “being raymond carver”
Like everyone,Im often too busy spinnng my wheels to see even of the people I love, and then get myself to the round of Christmas parties just hoping to connect with a few. When Rachel and I went off to the home of Barry Wallenstein, one of my best senseis from CCNY, all we wantedContinue reading “unexpected gifts”
When the Macarthur Awards were announced this spring, I can’t believe I missed it; that one went to Dr. Jonathan Shay. Luckily, Lily was more attentive, noting it on her own invaluable blog, Healing Combat Trauma. The debt owed Shay by so many of us is hard to quantify. HCT has the links to severalContinue reading “many mazeltovs to a giant”
I miss California far less than I’d expected to when I moved back here, after 10 years in San Francisco; but that still doesn’t mean I don’t miss Julia every single day, or wish Ericka were closer. And I’m further reminded of the latter when Ericka writes something like this. Her column “Red Diaper Dharma”Continue reading “the arguments and the songs”
I may not have the luxury of time that some of my role models had, three years on a dissertation and THEN two years to make it sing (yes, Mr. Moser, yes, Mr. Joseph, I mean you). But by June 30, 2008, all these important and compelling stories, from William Bowser to Ricky Clousing, have to coalesce into a document that speaks to people. Which means, given my penchant for UGLY first drafts, I have to get serious.
Carl raped me one lazy Sunday morning, as I shut myself down rather than wake the landlady’s kids. He turned out to have some other name entirely, which I only learned after I’d made a key for him.