You may have heard that Kazuo Ishiguro recently published his first novel in more than ten years. The Buried Giant, which takes place in Arthurian England, is a departure for Ishiguro, a work of overt fantasy. At Slate, our own Mark O’Connell provides his take on the book. You could also read our own Lydia Kiesling’s review.
High Fantasy
Going On Eleven
A new story by Hilary Mantel is always a cause for celebration. Good news: there's one up now at the London Review of Books called "Kinsella In His Hole." Huzzah!
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Another #LitBeat: BEA
In the latest installment of #LitBeat our correspondent reports from a Tumblr-hosted event at Housing Works, featuring readings from Baratunde Thurston, Alexander Chee, and our own Edan Lepucki.
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Dead Hand Control
"There is a term in the legal world for such instructions — dead hand control — and, although compliance has varied and enforceability is debatable, they have been attempted by artists from Franz Kafka to a Beastie Boy." The New York Times explores the potential impact of Edward Albee's will on his work, including his instruction that any manuscripts incomplete at the time of his death be destroyed. Pairs perfectly with Aaron Hamburger's recollection of staying at the famous playwright's place out in Long Island for an artists' residency.
From word nerd to language animal
David Mitchell, when questioned about his language and genre experiments, particularly in Cloud Atlas and The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, responds: "It's a bit like asking a duck billed platypus if it should be considered a mammal or a bird." The Millions also profiled Mitchell, though we never settled either way on the bird/mammal issue.
“Welcome to my book collection”
Dear Internet, can you please get to work on a single-serving Tumblr dedicated to weird literary videos? And, when created, can it just eternally re-post this video of a shirtless Glenn Danzig posing by his bookcase (and apparently a roaring fire)? (h/t Adam Boretz)
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Can’t Stop Won’t Stop
"I couldn’t put the books down. Now that so many of us complain of diminished attention spans— our own as well as our companions’—it’s worth asking what has made millions of readers willing to suspend their disbelief—to suspend their selves—for thousands of pages." Why have so many people gone gaga for Ferrante and Knausgaard? We have our own theories as well.