Bibliotherapy for Fiction Lovers
Sell! Sell! Sell! (And Write, Too!)
Moleskine, the company responsible for the iconic writing pads favored by Ernest Hemingway and Vincent Van Gogh, is planning to launch a public stock offering next September.
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Puffed Up
Don’t blame Amazon or Goodreads for authors writing rave reviews of their own work. Writers have been self-promoting since the 1700s, when it was called “puffery.” As Nicholas Mason writes for Symposium Magazine, “Nearly every British writer of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries either participated in or benefitted from ginned-up book reviews.” The list of puffed up authors includes Mary Wollstonecraft, Walter Scott, and Mary Shelley.
Swimming Across the Island
Hanya Yanagihara, the author of A Little Life, writes on reenacting a version of John Cheever’s short story “The Swimmer” by swimming across Martha’s Vineyard. As she explains it, “Swimming in the ocean is writing a novel; swimming in a pond is writing in a diary.” Pair with Nick Ripatrazone’s Millions essay on Cheever’s classic story.
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Shellacked Decorative Vegetables
Halloween might be over, but the season of freakishly large decorative gourds lives on. Here’s a fascinating essay from The Toast on how to raise enormous pumpkins–county fair, here we come.
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Daphne Merkin on Larkin’s Letters to Mum
The collection reveals the poet’s softer side, and perhaps his creative inspiration.
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Only Connect
Freedom the program might not actually be so freeing: “It has been argued that a chronic fever of distraction and fascination arrives on waves of Wi-Fi to stunt our attention spans, encouraging writers to paddle about, tweeting and liking, instead of striking out for deeper waters…” But maybe writers need distraction, after all. (Then again: a detox might do you good.)
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I don’t understand this insipid question. People have been reading for a long, long, long time. Does anyone seem happier to you because of it? More knowledgeable? Sure. More aesthetically well-rounded? Of course. But happy? What kind of bimbo question is that? What in the bloody hell does being happy have to do with anything? Eating a freaking ice cream cone makes you happy. That’s how important being ‘happy’ is.