There aren’t many things that make sense, nakedly, without justification or explanation or exposition. But George Saunders reading Barry Hannah and Grace Paley does. For the New Yorker‘s Page Turner, he leafs through Paley’s “Love,” Hannah’s “The Wretched Seventies,” and chats about the reverberations of both.
And if you haven’t checked out The Rumpus Book Club’s chat with Saunders, do that. He’s a pretty wonderful guy.
