“The continued publication and popular packaging of [Roberto Bolaño’s] incomplete work may actually be diluting his reputation as a writer of varied talents and fearless ambition.” Sam Carter is wary of The Roberto Bolaño Bubble.
The Roberto Bolaño Bubble
Profile of Rick Moody
At the Hartford Advocate, Craig Fehrman talks to Rick Moody about his “perplexing” career and latest novel, The Four Fingers of Death: “Moody isn’t the worst writer of his generation, but he is one of the most successful …”
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The Harvard Hoaxer’s Bibliography
The Harvard Hoaxer‘s not-to-be-missed resume (pdf) includes several impressive under-contract book projects, including The Mapping of an Ideological Demesne; Wampum and the Origins of American Money; and A Short History of North America. Pretty impressive, for a 23-year-old.
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Sex and the City
Recommended Reading: On the reinvention of Sex and the City in Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life to create something recognizable and true. You could also read our interview with Yanagihara.
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Australian Best
Lit-mag Meanjin Quarterly is taking a cue from The Millions and kicking off a new series, The Best Australian Fiction of the 21st Century (so far).
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Resolution
“I almost understand why God laid this affliction on him.” A new piece of fiction by Annie Proulx is always worth a read. Fun fact: there was a time in her career when Proulx had to pretend she was a man in order to be published.
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Did You Hear?
Gossip is often seen as inherently frivolous and trashy, which is why it’s odd that a poet would use it as the subject of his or her work. On The Poetry Foundation’s blog, Austin Allen writes about George Green’s collection Lord Byron’s Foot, in which, as Allen puts it, “the dish spares no one.” (h/t Arts and Letters Daily)
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A needed perspective, although the Bolaño Legacy argument makes more sense than the “He’s taking the space of other translated works in NA” one. He might take up a greater part of the literary conversation, but I’m not publishers would necessarily be translating more Latin-American fiction if Bolaño’s posthumous works weren’t around.
People are finally figuring this out? They’ve been churning out subpar Bolano collections for years, much of it mindlessly repetitive.