Our good friends at The Morning News just rolled out a spiffy new look this morning! It’s in support of their “news for nerds” mission, which we also wholeheartedly support. Congrats, guys. Might we suggest you celebrate by reading its co-founder (and Year in Reading alum) Rosecrans Baldwin‘s very funny diary from a few years back?
Recommended Listening: an interview with David Foster Wallace recorded the year Infinite Jest was published. Pair with these interviews and thoughts about what we mean when we talk about "rare" recordings.
Deeply saddened to hear news that Jake Adam York died today. York published three critically acclaimed poetry collections between 2005 and 2010: Murder Ballads, A Murmuration of Starlings, and Persons Unknown as well as an additional work of literary history The Architecture of Address. Much of his work is available online as well, such as his poems "Vigil" and "Self-Portrait as Superman." Edit: The Kenyon Review has uploaded three recordings of York reading his poetry. These are highly recommended as well.
In a head-scratching piece of writing for the New Statesman, Dave Eggers (whose novel The Circle just cracked our Top Ten) reflects on a cross-country drive he took from Jeddah to Riyadh. The journey, and in particular a comment made by his chauffeur, caused Eggers to ponder the significance of his nationality, his ability to perceive danger, and the intentions of others. The short of it: Some people from other countries are nice. Who knew?
Before his death of natural causes in 2008, Henry Gustave Molaison had the world’s most famous brain. At 27, Molaison permanently lost the ability to form new memories, which led to him spending the rest of his life in “thirty-second loops of awareness.” In the LRB, Mike Jay reviews a new book on Molaison, Permanent Present Tense.
James Joyce inspires a lot of English papers but not songs. Yet musician Casey Black based his song "Happiness" off of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. With lyrics like, "So I walk the Dublin streets like they were passageways through my soul," we think Joyce would approve.