Jacket Copy visits Joan Didion at her apartment in Manhattan to discuss Blue Nights, which moves back and forth between the death of Didion’s 39-year-old daughter, Quintana, six years ago and the author’s reflections on aging. The book is a much anticipated follow-up to 2005’s The Year of Magical Thinking, in which Didion wrote about the death of her husband, John Gregory Dunne.
Just in time for crawfish season (and ruined outfits as a result of crawfish season), The Oxford American's launched its newest column, Parish Chic, brought to you by L. Kasimu Harris. It's meant to prominently showcase the beaucoup styles on display in New Orleans, Harris' hometown. You can read about the project's background and inspiration over at Gambit: The Best of New Orleans.
"Goodreads lets me capture and disperse impressions that occur as I read. I tend to track the sounds I make when reading, the chortles, gasps, growls, and LOLs. I try to figure out why I might not have liked aspects of a book, looking under the hood in a workshoppy way..." Lee Klein offers a defense of Goodreads and good criticism over at Full Stop.
Sick of feeling inadequate compared to your literary peers? Well, you might want to stop reading, then: turns out Adam Thirlwell published his first book when he was three. (The readers of Granta learn this not from Thirlwell, who seems a bit abashed, but instead from Year in Reading alumnus Jeffrey Eugenides.)
What's better than being a writer? A writer who gets paid. Manjula Martin and Jane Friedman have launched the new digital magazine Scratch, which gives writers information on how to advocate for their work. The preview issue is free and contains essays on what freelancers can learn from street vendors, Cord Jefferson on outgrowing his materialism, and an interview with Jonathan Franzen. You can subscribe here.
"'There's no success like failure,' Bob Dylan once sang – but he couldn't have envisaged the international notoriety that bad art would achieve in the digital age. Mark O'Connell's Epic Fail gleefully hops genres and centuries in a quest to understand our obsession with lameness. Clever, profound, bitingly funny, it's a brilliant analysis from one of the smartest new critics around." — Paul Murray, author of Skippy Dies