Pinky remembers Rupert Pole, who recently passed away. Pole was otherwise known as Anais Nin’s lover and (later) executor of her estate. But if it weren’t for Pole’s presence, I’d have to mention the story anyway, simply because any tale involving a barechested 70 year old man, asparagus and NPR is simply too good to pass up.
Le Haggis asks Curtis Sittenfeld 20 cues. One response: “I know it’s sort of fun and frothy to imagine literary feuds, but I don’t think every negative review comes from the reviewer’s malice.” Really, Curtis? Calling Melissa Bank a slut ain’t malicious? Well, by that measure, here is my “review” of The Man of My Dreams: I saw Curtis’s phone number in the bathroom. People have told me she’s great in bed, the way literary novelists are often perceived to be great in bed. She will even let you tie her up if you ask politely. But mostly she wants to manacle your wrist to your leg without your permission and she doesn’t rectify this when you cry out the safe word. This has been an unmalicious review.
The next victim of Turkish literary censorship: Elif Shafak.
Laura Lippman talks with the Toledo Blade: “That’s one of the great things about having worked in a newsroom. I don’t need a completely silent retreat from the world. As a matter of fact, I like working in a place that’s buzzy like a coffeehouse. All I need is my laptop.”