Whatever you think of Harry Crews, you’ve got to give him this: the man has never shrunk from candor. The strength and fury of his writing surges from his bluntness. “I never wanted to be well-rounded,” he has said. “I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has . . .
Pictures for Sad Children imagines David Foster Wallace stranded on a desert island. I like to think he would laugh, too. (Via.)
“See below; eat shit and die.” Witness the devolution of a literary correspondence.
A new ballet inspired by The Idiot is intended to reflect Dostoevsky’s many changing drafts of his novel of obsessive passion.