I’m delighted to see Maslin’s praise in the Times for Carol Edgarian’s excellent Three Stages of Amazement (“turbulent, fiercely compelling”). I met and read Edgarian after she published me at Narrative, and I’m so glad I did. I talk with her at McNally Jackson on March 17, at 7 p.m.
I had a Texan drawl as a child and on occasion, when I drink and get riled up, it resurfaces. No one seems sure how serious I’m being when the accent comes out, and honestly I’m not either, but my old poker crew came to accept (expect?) it when we were talking trash. This Friday Night Lights binge has exacerbated . . .
My dearest Carrie Frye joins The Awl as managing editor. Carrie is better known in these parts as CAAF, coiner of “Nicht Kunts,” and bringer of guilt whenever I’m not writing. She’s pounding out her own book on a Galaxie typewriter.
Dang, y’all. I started streaming the first season of Friday Night Lights at 11 o’clock Saturday night and apart from sleeping and eating haven’t done much since but keep selecting the next episode on Netflix. I hear it’s great TV even if you don’t like football. What with the Dallas, Miami, and Gainesville in my background, I can’t speak to . . .