I’m disappointed that I was only able to get 8/12 correct on the Guardian’s “Who’s the Poet: Pamela Anderson or Sylvia Plath” quiz, but I’m consoling myself with the fact that the 50% is the average.
"Psycho glories in narrative fractures and perverse behavior; it subverts the expectations of an audience already habituated to Hitchcockian suspense by pushing even further, masterfully administering a dose of sheer shock. Hitchcock, on the other hand, struggles to arouse even suspense." How to watch a film about the master of film.
It's no secret that I'm a big fan of the "Ted Wilson Reviews the World" series over at Electric Literature. This week, he takes on everyone's (least?) favorite confection -- sprinkles. Unsurprisingly, sprinkles score a bit higher than Anxiety did a couple weeks ago: "Sprinkles can take an ordinary cupcake and turn it into a cupcake that looks like a rainbow shattered and fell all over it, and then the leprechaun at the end of that rainbow hid inside the cupcake and the only way to get him is to eat it."
Most of our internet browsing results in wasted time and too many cat videos, but Nora Crook stumbled upon Mary Shelley's unpublished letters while researching an obscure 19th-century novelist. In the letters, which range from 1831-49, Shelley fawns over her son and even discusses a 3 a.m. trip to her hairdresser when she got a ticket to the coronation of William IV in 1831. The letters will be published soon in The Keats-Shelley Journal.