“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Oscar Wilde, Rudyard Kipling, and Charles Dickens wrote about opium smoking in their novels. But if you read the way they describe opium smoking, without a doubt these people never saw the real thing. It’s laughable…What we see in movies, even to this day, with the obligatory London opium-smoking scene is complete fiction.” Interview with a modern-day opium addict.
Confessions of a Modern Opium Smoker
Writermaker
At The Daily Beast, a reading list by the novelist Nick Harkaway, who claims that he reads so many books at once that “if the stack fell on me I’d be injured.” Back in March, our own Emily St. John Mandel reviewed his second novel, Angelmaker.
Novels on Novelists
What’s the deal with all of the novels about famous writers? Perhaps it has to do with the fact that, according to Heller McAlpin at The Literary Hub, “there’s a special frisson of pleasure in reading about writers’ early struggles when you know what the future holds for them—which in the case of most of these authors is posthumous literary acclaim beyond their wildest dreams.”
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The Perils of “Showrooming”
Emma Straub, whose Year in Reading piece ran this week, has written a great article on the perils of “showrooming.”
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Radical Structures
Jay Rubin, best known as Haruki Murakami’s longtime English translator, is also a novelist in his own right. Last month, he published his debut The Sun Gods, about a Japanese-American couple who meet each other on the eve of World War II. In an interview with The Rumpus, he talks about Murakami, his new book and his interest in Japanese literature. You could also read Ben Dooley on Japanese cell phone novels.
Picador Playlists
The gulf between Picador and every other publishing house continues to yawn in one major aspect: literary playlists. To honor the release of Dylan Jones’s Biographical Dictionary of Popular Music, Justin Hargett put together a list of his “Favorite Covered Songs!” (Previously: the “Marriage Playlist” for Jeffrey Eugenides)
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Opium and it’s paraphernalia has always struck me as a drug with strong literary potential. It’s mystique and exoticism seem irresistible, but the only modern mentions I’ve seen have been by squares and bores. The one and only time I smoked it was one of the most pleasurable experiences I’ve ever had.
Unforgivable “its” typo. Sorry.