- J.M. Coetzee on Norman Mailer: “If one takes seriously Mailer’s reading of world history as a war between good and evil in which human beings act as proxies for supernatural agents—that is to say, if one takes this reading at face value rather than as an extended and not very original metaphor for unresolved and irresoluble conflict within individual human psyches—then the principle that human beings are responsible for their actions is subverted, and with that the ambition of the novel to search out and speak the truth of our moral life.” (via Scott)
- I don’t really watch television, so perhaps one of you might tell me why I should care about Damien Leith and what makes this ponce such a fantastic novelist?
- Elif Shafak: genuine protection needed or Salman Rushdie schtick?
- RIP fanboy.
- Given the man’s inflexibility to any viewpoint outside of his own and his animosity towards anyone who even remotely disagrees with him*, I don’t think I’d ever want to interview Cory Doctorow. But Rick Kleffel has been brave enough to take the plunge, talking with Doctorow for his excellent podcast series.
- Ecclesiastical Proust Archive (via Mark Thwaite)
- Justine Larbaleister goes medieval on Maureen Dowd.
- Anna Nicole Smith: The Annotated Biography
- “Would you like to establish a new freelancing career?”
* — Conclusion based on personal emails between Champion and Doctorow, 2001-2006, although third parties assure me that Doctorow is “nice.”
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (