Three decades after his death, the work of Romanian writer Max Blecher remains largely unavailable in English. Ricky D’Ambrose writes for The Nation about Blecher’s work. As he puts it, “Max Blecher is an obsessive saboteur of the breach between two seemingly irreconcilable positions: revulsion and lust.”
It's that time of the week wherein I remind you about the hilarious series over at Electric Literature, "Ted Wilson Reviews the World." This week, Ted tries his best to remain impartial while reviewing that one sneeze he had: "The sneeze I had came on so quickly I didn’t have time to put my hand over my face and the spray went everywhere. It made me wish I had been standing over a salad bar so there would have been a sneeze guard handy. That’s why if I’m about to sneeze at Olive Garden I immediately sprint for the salad bar."
John Jeremiah Sullivan's NY Times essay "You Blow My Mind. Hey, Mickey!" was a big hit last June. Next October, FSG will publish Pulphead, his second collection of essays. To tide you over until then, you can listen to The Paris Review's Southern Editor read an excerpt from his Disney piece.
MacArthur Genius™ Deborah Eisenberg, whom we've often celebrated here, publishes her 1,000-page Collected Stories this month - we ardently commend it to your attention. If you've read 'em all already, get your Eisenberg fix at the NYRB, where she reviews Dezsõ Kosztolányi's "quiet, shattering, perfect" novel Skylark.