The New York Review of Books posts a vintage essay by Joan Didion on the films of Woody Allen: “This notion of oneself as a kind of continuing career—something to work at, work on, ‘make an effort’ for and subject to an hour a day of emotional Nautilus training, all in the interests not of attaining grace but of improving one’s ‘relationships’—is fairly recent in the world, at least in the world not inhabited entirely by adolescents. In fact the paradigm for the action in these recent Woody Allen movies is high school.”
"One of the advantages to being a novelist is removing oneself from the chatter of the fray and trying to get a read and a historical context on what’s happening in one’s own time." The Guardian interviews Rachel Kushner about women's prisons, remorse, and her new novel, The Mars Room. Pair with: our review calls Kushner's latest a "brutal, unforgiving, and often grimly funny tour de force of wasted lives."
Loudpoet has an interview with former Soft Skull Press publisher Richard Nash about his new social publishing venture Cursor. "“Social” is taking the book and making it much easier to have a conversation with the book and its writer, and have conversations around the book and its writer." Is this a way forward for beleaguered publishers? (via The Lone Gunman)
The correspondence of Vladimir Nabokov and the critic Edmund Wilson suffered from Wilson’s inability to appreciate Nabokov's work. But by the spring of 1950, illness had affected both men to the point where a skilled correspondent in the ways of the U.S. mail became “a panacea to pain.”
Another packed line-up: New this week is Stephen King's 11/22/63, Umberto Eco's The Prague Cemetary, Ingo Schulze's, and Adam and Evelyn (all three of which were previewed by us). We also have new biographies of Kurt Vonnegut and Catherine the Great. And new in paperback, sometime Millions contributor Matthew Gallaway's The Metropolis Case.
"Mr. Walt Whitman has imagined that a certain amount of violent sympathy with the great deeds and sufferings of our soldiers, and of admiration for our national energy, together with a ready command of picturesque language, are sufficient inspiration for a poet. If this were the case, we had been a nation of poets." A young Henry James reviews Whitman's Drum Taps.