Looking for a New England writer’s retreat? Perhaps you could stay in T. S. Eliot‘s childhood summer home.
Last week, I wrote about the disparity between Norman Rockwell’s inner life and the cheerful art that made the painter famous. In the new issue of The Atlantic, James Parker writes about the “unconscious energy” of Rockwell’s work, while on the magazine’s website, Jennie Rothenberg Gritz republishes an old article that examines how Rockwell’s style could seem outdated even in the fifties.
"I believe that fiction can help, and if that's what makes me inevitably a genre writer, that's okay," John Green said in a speech at Kenyon College about why we should make art, genre fiction, and bad college hook up experiences. Bonus: Here are Green's 18 books you probably haven't read.
Last week, Emily Gould recommended Nell Zink in her Year of Reading piece, extolling Zink's novel The Wallcreepers as a “funny, profane, [and] deeply weird book.” At The Paris Review Daily, Matthew Jakubowski interviews the author, who talks about living in Germany, reading too much Kafka and writing for Jonathan Franzen.