Giles Coren, inspired by recent census revelations about some of Britain’s most venerated literary figures, envisions a journal entry in which Charles Dickens castigates himself for approaching the task of falsifying census data as he would writing a novel: Monday last … Mrs Dustanpolish, my housekeeper, animadverted me to the presence at my domiciliary portals of the census-takers, Pencilpush and . . .
In an interview with her brother, British rapper Doc Brown, Zadie Smith reflects on the difference between writing and rapping in the first person: ZS: The reason I could never be in that business is that you always have to speak in the first person. I find it a really strange experience to say “I” all the time. BS: Yeah. . . .
In a review of the sequel to Get Shorty, Kurt Loder says the “only really interesting thing about this boneheaded film version of Elmore Leonard’s 1999 best-seller is how flagrantly it trashes the book, and its resultantly flamboyant incoherence.” Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness inspired Coppola’s outstanding Apocalypse Now, but it nearly spawned another adaptation years earlier. For his first . . .
Today’s not-very-literary posts are brought to you by: a late-night fever resulting from an infection brought on by my dentist’s latest below-the-gumline excavation. (Yes, I know you’re tired of hearing about my dental woes, but believe me when I say you’re not nearly as tired as Max.) Anyhow, it’s 3 a.m. My vision is fading in and out. Soon, no . . .
This post was written by Friday guest blogger Emma Garman. Thanks for paying attention on this freezing Friday. Maud’ll be back on Monday.