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
Gigantic Film News
The Big Friendly Giant is coming to the big screen. Steven Spielberg will direct a live adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic book The BFG about a little girl and a friendly giant trying to stop his friends from eating children. If you had any doubt that Spielberg could bring sympathy to a mythical creature, he'll be pairing up with E.T. screenwriter Melissa Mathison again.
●
●
Norman Rush Excerpt and Appearance
Millions contributor Magdalena Edwards just published a piece on Norman Rush in The LA Review of Books. It includes the first published excerpt from his forthcoming novel Subtle Bodies, which will be released in 2013. Additionally, Rush will read in a rare appearance at the Hammer Museum in Westwood tomorrow.
●
●
“Best” and “Worst” Are Prominent
●
●
Keys Under the Basket
“Mr. Fogg assured us he would touch down at our place at precisely 8:45 in the evening. Imagine our delight when he not only arrived with all the punctuality befitting an Englishman, but also quite literally touched down! In a hot air balloon!” Introducing literary couchsurfing.
●
●
6 comments:
Add Your Comment: Cancel reply
An Interview with Justin Taylor
Writers who know literature: Bookslut’s Mark Doten talks Kierkegaard, Derrida, Bataille, Sinclair and Faulkner with Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever author Justin Taylor.
O Health Coach! My Health Coach!
“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!
●
●
Am I Special?
“Perhaps I will just go underground and live a quiet life of desperation. I’ve heard mumblings about a place called ‘Social Media Manager.’ It seems like a nice place where all people my age go for a while. Just until things start to make sense again.” Nobody knows the throes of existential angst quite like a twenty-something. Here’s a plea for help from one such twenty-something over at McSweeney’s.
●
●
Sea Like a Mirror
This little bit of found poetry courtesy of the Beaufort Wind Scale and Mallory Ortberg over at The Toast will have you reading your weather reports with a fresh set of eyes. If meteorology is your thing, here's a link to the ten best weather events in all of fiction.
●
●
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)…?