“To you, clerk, literary man, sedentary person, man of fortune, idler, the same advice. Up!” Walt Whitman, health nut and paleo dieter–resist carbs, obey red meat!
O Health Coach! My Health Coach!
Baby, You Can Drive Murakami’s Car
When The Beatles made Rubber Soul, the band probably didn’t realize it would inspire some of the greatest contemporary fiction. First, Haruki Murakami named his novel Norwegian Wood. Now, “Drive My Car” inspired his new short story. Bungeishunju published the story today, but English readers are still waiting on the translation. Until then, we can always listen to the album. Pair with: Our essay on the soundtracks behind books.
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Dealing with Bros
Wendy Willis advises us on how to deal with bros like Donald Trump and Robert Bly. Pair with Greg Chase’s recent piece on understanding the Trump supporter through Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.
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Why A New Madame Bovary?
Lydia Davis, whose new translation of Madame Bovary comes out September 23, blogs at The Paris Review Daily about why we need yet another translation of Flaubert.
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Let’s Get a Move On, Scientists
David Graeber, author of Debt: The First 5,000 Years (which was brilliantly reviewed by Benjamin Kunkel in the LRB recently), wonders why the world doesn’t yet have any flying cars. It’s 2012, people!
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“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”
Continuing Tin House’s great “The Art of The Sentence” series, Vishwas Gaitonde dives deep into the opening line from Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. (Come on, we all know the one.) Be sure to catch Tin House‘s previous TAoTS series installments as well.
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