As part of an ongoing series, Critical Mass asks book critics to name five books that should be found in any reviewer’s library — Ruth Franklin of The New Republic posts her picks. (via Book Bench)
How to Be a Book Critic
Tree of Desire
At Granta, revisit an essay from Seamus Heaney on trees and desire in literature. Pair with Trent Morris’s reflections after the poet’s passing.
●
●
New from Ann Beattie
In the Fall 2015 issue of VQR, check out new fiction from Ann Beattie. You could also read our recent interview with the author.
20th Century American Authors Exhibit
This month the Super Precious Gallery is displaying their “20th Century American Authors” exhibit, and it consists of thirteen pieces inspired by authors from the 1900s. Ten artists produced tributes to the likes of Kurt Vonnegut, Doris Lessing, Thomas Pynchon and—this being Tumblr—Charles Bukowski.
More BEA coverage
●
●
Fact-Checking Fiasco
What do you think gets fact-checked the most rigorously: newspaper articles, magazine stories, or books? If you guessed books, you'd be surprised to know that they are rarely, if ever, fact-checked. At The Atlantic, Kate Newman questions why we have so much faith in books' accuracy but why publishers don't bother.
●
●
Today in Irish Poetry
Need a dose of new Irish poetry in your life? The Irish Times (naturally) has you covered. In the Saturday edition, John McAuliffe reviews two new and notable collections: The Boys of Bluehill by Eilean Ni Chuilleanain and The Days of Surprise by Paul Durcan.
●
●
Appearing Elsewhere
I have a short story in the latest issue of Avery, a young literary magazine I've written about before. Avery 4 also includes fiction by Hannah Tinti, Kevin Canty, Rumaan Alam, Samar Fitzgerald, Sophie Rosenblum, Scott Garson, Callie Collins, James Iredell, Jessica Breheny, Sean Walsh, Anna Villegas, and Michael Bourdaghs. It's wonderful to have found my story such a sleek and beautiful home, filled with so much good company.Here's the opening of my tale, called "A Love to Calm the Body": My grandmother fell in love with her doctor. She liked the way he scrubbed his hands. He also washed his forearms, held them wet in front of his body before taking them to the towel. My grandmother had a weekly appointment; she'd been diagnosed with Hysteria - an excess of emotion, a deep feminine sadness. This was in 1899, when my grandmother was twenty-three, two years married. My mother was only an idea then, hovering at the edges. I wasn't anything at all.Want to read more? You can order the issue online here.