Last night I received two contributors’ copies of What We Do Now. The book — a call to arms for Democrats — looks pretty, and it’s on sale now at St. Mark’s and online.
Caro Llewellyn, director of the Sydney Writers’ Festival, bristles at the suggestion that contemporary literary novels aren’t page-turners.
Here’s another novel-by-email story. This time it’s a mystery novel. Someone should follow the progress of one of these things, find out if people actually are reading them.
Pynchon fans in Minneapolis, take note: Zak Smith’s “One Picture for Every Page of Thomas Pynchon’s Novel ‘Gravity’s Rainbow'” is on display at Franklin ArtWorks through January 8.”
Laura Ciolkowski compares South African novelist Lynn Freed to Jean Rhys and Marguerite Duras in the space of one paragraph, contributing to my conviction that Freed is someone I need to read.
Every hour, 10 x 10 collage displays a new collage of 100 ranked images and words taken from the news at the Reuters, BBC, and New York Times sites, leaving “a trail of these hourly statements which, stitched together side by side, form a continuous patchwork tapestry of human life.” Archives and source links are available. (Via Librarians’ Index to the Internet, thanks to Michael T.)
Last week Salon’s Priya Jain talked with Helen Walsh, author of Brass, “one of the raciest tales of British sex-and-drug culture since Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting.” I’m told another approving blurb will appear in an upcoming issue of The New Yorker, courtesy of music critic and karaoke superstar Sasha Frere-Jones. See also the Guardian’shilarious digested read.