Last week we mentioned that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie‘s novel Americanah will, all going well, become a movie starring Lupita Nyong’o. We also mentioned that she wrote about her Year in Reading for us last year. But wait, here’s more! The Rumpus has interviewed Adichie about Americanah, and it’s well worth the read.
Over at Bloom today, a lively Q&A with Charles McNair, whose Pickett's Charge was the subject of Kevin Hartnett's recent review here. In particular, McNair takes us through the harrowing blow by blow of his road to publication, the "sophomore jinx story" from a Pulitzer Prize-nominated author.
"You’re following some cute glyph about smoking, then one about stationary, then dirty dishes and some mischievous cat—then it’s suddenly 'Not your father’s safari jacket' followed by pearl puddles, LIBERATOR dildos, Quaker teens, rehab, troubled teens, and more jackets. It’s like a mini-Buñuel movie! And they expect you to keep following along with Malcolm Gladwell, or whoever it is, over there to the left? Why would you? You want to shout, Hey Malcolm, can you shut up about Twitter and explain the neo-surrealist montage unfolding perversely in the margins?" The strange amalgamation that is the magazine ad column.
Former nytimes.com design director Khoi Vinh tries to renew his digital subscription to the paper, and it doesn't go well: "The total customer experience here is haphazard at best, and, at worst — I hate to say this because I am still friendly with many people at the company, but in truth there’s no way around it — it’s insulting."
“His books are not only obviously produced by an obsessive film buff (as evidenced by one wry recurring trick, the dates in brackets that follow even citations of celluloid ephemera), they often seem to want to be movies, as shown by another signature device, the way his protagonists – from the 1890s European spies and 1950s New Yorkers in the interwoven narratives of his debut, V. in 1963, all the way to Inherent Vice and Bleeding Edge in 2013 – break anti-naturalistically into song like characters in musicals.” An argument that Thomas Pynchon writes fiction tailor-made for the cinema.