Maud Newton takes another look at a long-debated issue: the hot young writer. She counts Oscar Wilde as perhaps the first writer to wear that type of mantle and its ensuing problems. I remember reading an article a while back (the location escapes me) that discussed Mary Gaitskill’s sex appeal. Specifically, the author of the article had referred to this picture, below, citing Gaitskill’s come-hither regard and poised lean onto the bed she’s seated on as overt attempts to sexualize her based on her beauty and the nature of the stories she writers.
My friends and I often joke about this phenomenon as well, bellowing out “author photo!” whenever someone coincidentally assumes a quirky or awkwardly “literary” pose. I don’t think that it harms the sanctity of what we do to have photos like this one of Gaitskill. So often we are urged to stay out of the writing, to recede into the shadows and let the work speak for itself, which is sage advice to be sure. But it is nice, however, to poke your head(shot) out once and a while to put a face to the work. I was at the Poets & Writers Summer Magazine Party on Monday, and my friend and I were remarking that it often took us minutes to realize who certain writers in attendance were, if we recognized them at all. I think it’s hard for writers to make peace with visual representations of themselves. They’d much rather turn, as always, to words.
I prayed for the city to be cleared of people, for the gift of being alone… which is the one New York prayer that rarely gets lost or delayed in channels, and in no time at all everything I touched turned to solid loneliness.
–from J.D. SALINGER’S “De Daumier-Smith’s Blue Period”
The Washington Square Midsummer Party is tonight at Happy Ending on Broome St. 7:30 pm and it is free free free. John Yau, Timothy Liu, Miranda Field, Ben Mirov, Katherine Bogden, Porter Fox, and Conrad Woolfe will be reading. And I will be there basking in literary delight. Come one and all.
The Guardian has an article up about the recent literary death match held in the UK. Opium magazine holds these all over the country and now in Europe. Pairs of writers read their work back to back and are judged by a panel. The final round has winners from previous rounds performing non-literary feats and playing games for the final victory. The next death match will be here in NYC on Thursday, July 30 at the Bowery Poetry Club. Who wants to go with me?
An incredible video of Nabokov discussing Lolita. He is unsparing, honest, and almost chillingly prescient about what his work was capable of inflicting.
Young artists often mistake proximity to the art world for the act of creation itself. Nowhere is this error more common than in New York City, where being able to paint and make rent is a question of finding “the right imbalance” between art and paying work.
Announcing a new daily feature: Quick Clicks. In these posts I’ll compile a list of cool things that deserve a click, without the commentary of a whole rambling post. Promise.
* Brews & Books is a great site that concerns two of my favorite things. There’s more fodder for this than you would imagine.
* Love her or hate her, Ellen Page is set to star in two upcoming movies, The Tracey Fragments, and Whip It, Drew Barrymore’s directorial debut! Both look great.
Initially this story didn’t really grab my attention (sorry comment on the state of the world, eh?) but, as with so many things, a bizarre tie-in to writing and literature drew me in.
The book– and to an even greater extent, the film– certainly makes destruction look glamorous at times. Think of the final scene of David Fincher’s film: the buildings tumble to the ground and Jack and Marla hold hands while the Pixies shimmer and squall in the background. But what one commenter on Gawker pointed out remains true: the film as a whole does not stand behind the idea of chaos and bringing down the world order. Sure, it makes some incredible points about the siren song of consumerism, the soul-hollowing potential of corporate life, the negative consequences of the sublimation of instinct and selfhood… I could go on and on. But it ultimately rejects the notion that the way to go about combating these things is to fuck with the man. The answer that Jack’s character was looking for did not and could not come through external manifestations of revolution; it had to happen internally. He has to pull the trigger on the gun in his mouth (killing his split personality). It reminds me of Beckett or Dante’s Belacqua. More
Vote for "My Story in a Late Style of Fire," a documentary on #poet Larry Levis to be Project of the Week on IndieWire! bit.ly/Ac5FsW2 months ago
@DonaldGlover Camp is fucking awesome. Bravo dude. "Human centipede!" You're killin' it. Keep. It. Up. 6 months ago
Another smart show ahead of its time put on hiatus. #savecommunity! Can't believe they're benching it for more dumb drivel like Whitney. FU. 6 months ago
Good god. Whitney is an abomination. NBC = a bunch of idiots if they can't see that Community is one of the best shows on TV. #savecommunity6 months ago
