“There are people who believe that readers and writers—at least the right kind of readers and writers—are special snowflakes, existing on a more exalted plane than mere mortals. Book people are educated. They are privileged. They are brave enough to speak out when the emperor shows up naked. They sup on nectar from flowers grown on the sunny slopes of Mount Olympus, harvested by chiton-wearing MFA candidates.” Jennifer Weiner responds to bad Amazon reviews, book blogs, and elitist ” book people” in an essay for The New Republic. We especially enjoy the line about the chitons.
"Stop smoking, first of all, and then don’t hold your breath, don’t cough, do not for any reason pick up heavy packages, boxes, suitcases. Never lean over, or dive headfirst into water. The carnal throes of passion were forbidden, because even an ardent kiss could cause my veins to burst." At long last, Lina Meruane’s semi-autobiographical novel Seeing Red has been published in English. Meruane has long been hailed as one of the most brilliant South American writers that American readers had probably never heard of.
Warren Ellis’s Dead Pig Collector was released this week as a Kindle Single, and with it came a whole heap of extras. To wit: there’s an online excerpt, an author interview, another piece of fiction, and also an accompanying music playlist created by the author. (In that interview, he remarks that his next novel will be based on this talk he gave two years ago.)
Robert Roper wonders whether or not Ernest Hemingway's death has "eclipsed his work." Elsewhere, Melville House wonders whether or not the FBI had something to do with it. The author's influence is as apparent today as ever before, though perhaps it's not his death that endures, but rather his perceived masculine mystique.