“The book business is a cork floating on a digital device stream,” writes Mike Shatzkin. Is publishing living “in a world not of its own making?”
Shatzkin on Digital Revolution
You’re Obama
“And then Obama comes over to my desk with the speech, and he has a few edits. And he’s like, ‘I just want to go through some of these edits and make sure you’re ok with this. I did this for this reason. Are you ok with that?’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah, buddy. You’re Barack Obama.’” Jon Favreau, former chief speechwriter to President Obama, sits down with Longform.
I Want to Go to There
“[I]t’s important that people begin to understand that whiteness is not inevitable, and that white dominance is not inevitable.” Claudia Rankine talks to The Guardian about her plans for the Racial Imaginary Institute, a think-tank-cum-gallery that she’s founding with all that MacArthur Genius cash. See also: why Americans love poetry, but not poetry books.
I Turn My Camera On
When does photojournalism become exploitive? At Granta, a podcast examining the ethics of photojournalism.
Beats Rock-a-bye Baby
Adam Mansbach’s Go The F**k to Sleep took the children’s book market — or at least the number of adults talking about the children’s book market — to a whole new level last summer. Then, weeks later, Samuel L. Jackson read parts of the story for its book trailer, and people freaked out all over again. Well, prepare yourselves yet again, folks. Now somebody’s remixed that recording into the most badass (NSFW) lullaby of all time.
The Pale King Comes into View
David Foster Wallace’s unfinished novel The Pale King now has a cover and an April 15 release date (appropriate for its IRS-oriented subject matter.) The New York Times has a bit more.
Happy 110th Bloomsday! (2/2)
In honor of Bloomsday, some recommended reading, listening, and playing: one-day diaries of four modern Blooms in New York, Radio Bloomsday’s seven hours of readings (by Alec Baldwin, John Lithgow, Jerry Stiller, Garrison Keillor, and others), even found poetry and an iPhone game drawn from the text of Ulysses. Oh, and–of course–James Joyce’s book itself.