Year in Reading alumna Porochista Khakpour has a stunning new story in Bennington Review. She writes, “I had made a point of trying to learn the names of everyone in my department, after my previous department chair at my last VAP job advised ‘best way to make a best impression is know every name of professor and student alike.’” For more of her writing, check out her Millions piece on George Saunders.
Know Every Name
Ask Ayn (Rand)
“I took maybe ten more speed pills and sat in a stall and wrote a new chapter of Atlas Shrugged,” writes Ayn Rand (er, um, John Hodgman). “Perhaps twenty-five thousand words, all on toilet paper.”
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Tuesday New Release Day
Lots of diet books among the new releases these days (in preparation for the post-holiday food guilt one assumes), but readers will also find a vibrant new “biography-in-collage” out this week, Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie, A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss.
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Cleanliness Is Next To Literature
“Chekhov’s contemporaries wondered: What sort of Russian writer was he? He had no solution to the ultimate questions. With no ‘general idea’ to teach, wasn’t he more like a talented Frenchman or Englishman born in the wrong place?” (And our own Sonya Chung argues that personal character was in fact his “general idea.”)
Malcolm Gladwell: Collected
The New York Times best-selling author Malcolm Gladwell recognizes that printed books can be beautiful, covetable objects that enhance the experience of reading. He hired Brian Rea, a frequent Times Magazine illustrator, and Paul Sahre, a designer who also frequently contributes to the magazine, to collaborate on the visuals for a new box set, Malcolm Gladwell: Collected.
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How to Treat an “Apocalyptic Hangover”
The second issue of the new journal Music & Literature is a feast for Krasznahorkai enthusiasts and neophytes alike, with some 70 pages of previously untranslated fiction, interviews, and essays, along with critical context on the “Hungarian Master of the Apocalypse.” Alas, only George Szirtes‘ essay and an interview with translator Ottilie Mulzet are available digitally. But the complete analog package is highly recommended.
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You ninnie-hammer flycatcher!
Short on insult fodder? In that case you’ll want to read Colin Burrow’s review of Melissa Mohr’s Holy Shit: A Brief History of Swearing. It includes such notables as: “slapsauce fellows, slabberdegullion druggels, lubbardly lowts … slutch calf-lollies, grouthead gnat-snappers, lob-dotterels, gaping changelings, [and] codshead loobies.” In the end, “swearing is one of the most basic human acts,” he writes.
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Marilynne Robinson on The Daily Show
Author Marilynne Robinson appeared on “The Daily Show” Thursday night. No kidding. She talked about Absence of Mind, her new work of nonfiction, about the relationship between science and religion. (via The Observer)
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sorry but “stunning”? First off, the story’s about an English professor. Stories about writers and English professors are what writers/English professors write when they no longer have anything interesting to say. No story about an English professor has ever been stunning.
2nd, the writing is so poor I wonder if you even read it. To wit:
“There were boys too but the boys were just boys” [how profound]
“Their skin was always burnt to an orange glow, like marinated duck” [Duck is rarely marinated and never orange or glowing]
“as if you could watch the zipper be coerced to a slow descent” [huh??]
“These girls were little pink and orange rubber things, like hot dogs” [i’m starting to doubt the author has ever seen the color orange]
“they were nothing like me, not then, of course, or ever” [??]
“I watched them like you watch a thing that is capable of anything if you look away.” [such as…???]
This is literally all in the first paragraph.
example 26329 of why literary fiction is dying. new york writer spends so much time in writerly/academic bubble that their writing becomes removed from the real world. lit mag publishes writer on strength of name only. industry website pimps story cuz it’s easier than actually searching out something new and original. tomorrow the whole cycle starts anew.
please, millions, don’t play this game any more. you don’t have to.
@toad
Well, now I’ve read that story on your negative endorsement… expecting to come to the end of its first page sneering. But it wasn’t bad. Agreed that “stunning” is not only OTT but sets the story up to fail in the minds of some readers. But, no: it wasn’t bad at all.
Steve
you sir are a glutton for punishment! congrats. though i’d argue that it’s a sorry state of affairs when you are forced to defend a story on its “wasn’t-bad”-ness. Is “good” a bridge too far these days? Does quality matter any more? and then there’s the question of the million’s pimping. credibility damaged? gotta say i’m not interested in the opinions of someone who either truly finds that story stunning, or pretends to in the interest of clicks.
@toad
It’s just that I recognize the story’s wryly conversational tone from the “New Frontier” magazine fiction of the previous century… or from Lucia Berlin. Not especially my thing (I’m into, say, Harold Brodkey’s short stories, which puts me in with a herd of a few dozen weird mammals) but I think the author does the thing well.
Re: the pimping: isn’t everything public sort of that way….? laugh
Toad,
I agree that the writing as cited isn’t very good (didn’t read the rest of it), but then The Bennington Review is a tiny literary magazine. This is not to disparage the author or magazine, but to say you might want to keep your powder dry for more egregious, large-scale affronts to aesthetic sense, those involving a conspiracy of industry overpraise for something manifestly undeserving of it, such as Lauren Groff’s Fates and Furies.
Btw, your judgment on writing about English professors is silly and baseless. Coetzee’s Disgrace, one of the greatest novels of the last few decades, is about just that.
” you might want to keep your powder dry for more egregious, large-scale affronts to aesthetic sense, those involving a conspiracy of industry overpraise for something manifestly undeserving of it…”
In that case, can’t we do something about Karl Ove Knausgaard and his enablers (such as James Wood, who benefits from the default Anglophilia of NYer readers in much the same way that Karl Ove Knausgaard benefits from James Wood’s hardwired admiration, which had to travel North to find something even whiter, and more banal, than Wood)…?