"The Disney character I most strongly identify with is the Beast before he learns how not to emotionally attack everyone around him, so." Over at The Toast, Mallory Ortberg tells us why she is the perfect candidate for the job of Fisher King. T.S. Eliot would be proud. Or likely horrified.
Though it's long been known as the gentleman's sport, tennis seems to be slipping a little bit in its cultural refinement. Melville House has a blog post on the reading habits of elite players, and they're spotty at best, though Dostoyevsky, Nietzsche and Camus are all mentioned, as are J.K. Rowling, Tolkien and, simply, "newspapers."
Michiko Kakutani's generous and oddly moving review of Jay-Z's Decoded - in which she seems to find a kindred spirit - almost makes me want to take back all the mean things I've said about her. I still don't trust her judgment, but the review's worth reading just for the mental image of her in big headphones, nodding along to "Streets Is Watching." Go 'head, shorty.
80 years ago Samuel Beckett's publisher rejected his short story "Echo's Bones" because it gave him the "jim-jams." The 13,500-word piece on the afterlife was intended for More Pricks Than Kicks until his editor Charles Prentice claimed, "People will shudder and be puzzled and confused; and they won't be keen on analysing the shudder." Fortunately, it will finally be published by Faber and Faber on April 17.