Hunter S. Thompson weighs in on the current presidential race.

Don Paterson hopes to revive the aphorism: “More than anything, the aphorism tries desperately hard to be memorable. (Of course, this is the aim of all writing, but usually we make some attempt to conceal the desperation. Another reason why aphorisms, when they fall, fall very hard indeed.) But perhaps they also reflect our conviction that all the most important things we need to say must find a way of inhabiting the single breath, the instant, if they’re to shock awake our real, breathing, present moment – because if we don’t stay alive to that, we’re dead to everything.”

J-Fly has a cool concept she lifted from a film teacher.

Step One: Name your five favorite films off the top of your head and write brief summary.

1. O Lucky Man!: Guy hopes to make money as coffee salesman, engages in debauchery, wanders around English countryside, gets set up and booked, tries to proselytize, eventually smiles.

2. After Hours: Go nowhere word processor sees cute girl, starts talking, goes to Soho, gets involved in deranged New York universe, can’t get home, but is forced by unseen god to take charge.

3. The Wizard of Oz: Dislocated girl arrives in fantasy world, has adventures, meets friends, goes on quest, finds self, concludes “there’s no place like home.”

4. The General (1927): Go nowhere engineer can’t enlist, has his train stolen, pursues it like crazy, has adventures, proves himself hero, gets girl, finds inner self.

5. Brazil: Man stuck in drab bureaucratic job in totalitarian state dreams of girls, gets caught in plot, and finds escape in his own mind.

Step Two: “Chances are, those films will tell essentially the same story. And chances are, your films will tell that story too. Because that is your story.”

Yup. Common theme here is a passive human stuck in routine who goes through a series of incredible adventures and eventually finds self.

[UPDATE: This may have been accidentally pilfered from Cinetrix. Whatever the case, send some sugar her way.]

Lionel Shriver: “Joyce Carol Oates is an atrocious writer.”

When you’re pilfering the mines of histrionic snark over Joyce Carol Oates (“to call the novel under-edited would be to imply that it had been edited at all,” “Oates gives the impression of publishing nothing but first drafts, which helps to explain her astounding output.”), chances are that you’re either someone frustrated because he can’t keep up with the JCO oeuvre (honestly, who outside of JCO’s husband has read every book?) or you’re another cretin pissing in the snow.

A far more thoughtful take on JCO can be found over at the Mumpsimus. And I think Matthew Cheney gets at the JCO conundrum (and the larger issue of prolificity and length) quicker than anyone: “Eventually, we will be able to look back over Oates’s entire career and find the gems, but for the moment we’re stuck with sorting through all the dreck. I, for one, have given up, because I don’t want to keep wasting my time hoping Oates will write a masterpiece.”

I’ve been formulating some theories about “sifting to find a masterpiece” and the thickass novel at large — specifically over whether the reader has the right to dismiss a book because of its length. One day when I have some time, I hope to dwell on the issue at length. The chief query: why does a novelist have to be punished for writing too much? If readers cannot keep up with a writer’s output, whether it entails the breadth of a novelist like Richard Powers or the relentless pen of JCO, then have they truly earned the right to impersonate some constant kvetcher who missed the nudie show by ten minutes?

• A writer mistakes a JCO blurb for junk mail. (via Galleycat)
• Tonight in San Francisco, there’s a memorial tribute to Jack Kerouac. The Chronicle has more.
• Walter Mosley fesses the Fantastic Four as a major inspiration. Unfortunately, Mosely couldn’t be convinced to say, “It’s clobbering time!”
• Best Booker-related lede: “Alan Hollingshurst is a cheap date.”
• A one-volume edition of Lord of the Rings is being released — the version that Tolkien always wanted. His estate wants it too. After all, there’s a new swimming pool to put in.
• John le Carre has come out hopping mad against Bush.
• Neal Stephenson answers questions at Slashdot.