The Last Book I Loved: Too Big to Miss
I used to read lots of mysteries, and for some reason I stopped. Then I heard about Sue Ann Jaffarian’s mysteries from Mystery Bookstore on Twitter, and got addicted. Her…
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Everything that can’t be categorized but is still wonderful!
Look Out New Yorkers: Black Hand has an Auto
“Maintaining the American spirit of up-to-dateness, which is said to attain its most perfect flower in New York, the Black Hand has now added the automobile to its working machinery….…
The Last Book I Loved: Isaac Fitzgerald, the first half of The Night of the Gun
That’s not to say I didn’t like the second half of the book, where David Carr gets his life back on track and ends up working as a writer for…
Jonathan Kiefer: The Last Book I Loved, What’s Not to Love?
Sometimes I like to make myself depressed by reading other writers named Jonathan who are better than me. Lately it’s been a lot of fun/shame, what with Lethem and Franzen…
Poetic Lives Online: Links by Brian Spears
Congratulations to Juan Felipe Herrera and August Kleinzahler on their shared National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry for 2008. Barbara Jane Reyes has more on Herrera. Ron Silliman on…
Pasties and Pastries
Oh, I wish I were in Austin for SXSW’s Pasties and Pastries cupcake and boobie show.
Saturday Morning Links
Toilet-shaped plates with food presented as excrement. Sweet! Ever find yourself at a diner at three in the morning, the drunk hungries kicking your ass and your waffle/hash brown/extra bacon…
Zak Smith: The Last Book I Loved, Viriconium
M. John Harrison is doomed. Here is what is going to happen to him: in ten or twelve years, after the Hollywood development people have clawed past the Dunes and…
Post-Young: Notes on the Not-So-Fresh-Faced Author, He Blogs
To quote somebody far more incisive than me, “Once your book comes out, the weirdness begins…”
Cobblers and Coverless Books
Doing well: shoe repair shops and, according to the Telegraph of London, used bookstores:
Beautiful Booze Hags
In a flash that’s maybe as much prose poem as it is non-fiction (does it matter?), John Griswold injects us into a scene at the end of a man’s life.…