The illustration accompanying David Orr’s brief blurb about my blog in the revamped New York Times Book Review has done little to assuage my adolescent fear that if I were a character in Scooby-Doo I’d be Velma. (But apparently I’d be Velma in a rah-rah skirt, yelling, “go bloggers!” while defending a deposition.)
If you’re new to the site, welcome. If you’re thinking of returning, please familiarize yourself with the mission statement and be aware that, in addition to literary news and interviews with writers and editors, content around here includes ruminations on my neighbors’ sex lives, my crazy parents, my commute to work and my novel-writing. (What’s more, the word “fuck” and its variations — i.e., fucked, fucking, and fucker — tend to be thrown around willy-nilly.)
On Fridays the caliber of the site increases tenfold when my less foul-mouthed and flippant friend, Stephany Aulenback, takes the helm. (This past Friday, the 1st, was an exception. Ms. Aulenback was attending to other matters.)
So read at your own risk, like it or lump it, etc., etc. And if you’re still looking for an RSS feed, please try one of these.
