Electric Literature’s blog The Outlet begins a series of essays with the question: “Is Zadie Smith the Barack Obama of literature?”
Have you visited the legendary Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris? Were you aware that bookstore you visited is not actually that same legendary Shakespeare and Company? Erin Zaleski at The Daily Beast takes a look at the history of this literary institution of the Lost Generation.
The international popularity and utility of English doesn't show any signs of slowing, but what will the language look like after a few generations of increasing usage? The Economist gives a brief answer, but it doesn't address the ways English is or will be used by different people to tell their stories. Damian Fowler addresses this when he asks, "[W]hat does it mean to have an American point of view," or to call a book American in tone, as opposed to British or just English-language? In a blog post for The Paris Review, Fowler offers an answer: American novels are characterized by "a spare, sure sense of narrative, reflected in a colloquial voice, free of affectation."
Cory Arcangel's Working on My Novel is composed solely of tweets from people who (one is led to assume) are engaged in the singularly tragic enterprise of writing books that, unlike Working on My Novel, will take years to complete, yet won't be published by Penguin or noticed by The Paris Review. Oh, the meta-irony. And now I've just honored it with a Curiosities post.
Is hardcover the new vinyl? Over at The Literary Hub, Yahdon Israel argues for the irreplaceable magic of tactility and print books: "There’s something gratifying about being able to underline a sentence or write a response in the margin of a book, knowing with certainty that it will be there later. I can’t get that guarantee from a phone. My data could be hacked, a new upgrade could wipe its memory, my battery could die mid-sentence and cause me to lose everything I’ve typed. They say that what goes up into the Cloud must come down, but 'they' can’t always be trusted—least of all with the things I value most, my books."