Frank McNally investigates the “dark forces at work somewhere” that prevent Flann O’Brien from being honored with a Dublin bridge. Perhaps we should all start a grassroots campaign to send Mark O’Connell’s O’Brien tribute to Irish civil engineers.
Because its administrators believe “self-publishing is now a highly successful and respected business model for both new and established authors,” The University of Central Lancashire has created a Self-Publishing Masters program. (Clearly they didn’t read Edan Lepucki’s Millions article from 2011.) According to the program’s official website, “this dynamic course … reveals how to make self-publishing work for you.”
Literary fame is a knotty thing. It’s hard to predict exactly who will be known for centuries, and why. William Wordsworth, for example, owes at least part of his fame to the Lake District, which started to use him in their tourist campaigns not long after his death. In The New Yorker, Joshua Rothman takes a look at H.J. Jackson’s Those Who Write for Immortality. Related: Gina Fattore’s recent essay on fame and money.