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It’s of some interest that the lively arts of the millennial U.S.A. treat anhedonia and internal emptiness as hip and cool. It’s maybe the vestiges of the Romantic glorification of Weltschmerz, which means world-weariness or hip ennui. Maybe it’s the fact that most of the arts here are produced by world-weary and sophisticated older people and then consumed by younger people who not only consume art but study it for clues on how to be cool, hip — and keep in mind that, for kids and younger people, to be hip and cool is the same as to be admired and accepted and included and so Unalone…David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
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This is one of my all-time favorite collections of short stories, which I almost embarrassingly have to admit was brought to my attention during a sophomore year infatuation with Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground.
I first read the most popular of the stories, the one for which the collection takes its name. I think at the time (I was about 20 or 21) I was most impressed and in love with the idea of a young voice from past speaking to the heartache that often accompanies the unfilled void of the young (and restless) looking to adulthood to do great things, but unsure exactly what it is they are to do. It’s both a mature and adolescent feeling that I identified with. And the entire thing uses the metaphor of film and entertainment as life, which seemed particularly appropriate for me at the time.
I was excited to see the new cover for the collection from New Directions, which I think conveys the weird time in a young person’s life with the distorted typeface, like an old often-watched VHS that wobbles in and out of focus, sending the viewing impatiently to the tracking button but alas there is no relief.
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I just finished Patrick deWitt’s The Sisters Brothers; what should I read next?
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Is anyone else reading (and loving) The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt right now?
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Recently, I’ve noticed way too many articles and blog posts that take a play on Raymond Carver’s title “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” Let’s end this trend, shall we?
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Photo reblogged from The Editors' Desk
Today in the Tournament of Books, Kevin and John extrapolate what Walter Kirn might have said.
I love The Art of Fielding so far. And as much praise as Open City has received so far (4-0 in tourney), I think I’m picking up The Sisters Brothers next!
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The word is now a virus. The flu virus may have once been a healthy lung cell. It is now a parasitic organism that invades and damages the central nervous system. Modern man has lost the option of silence. Try halting sub-vocal speech. Try to achieve even ten seconds of inner silence. You will encounter a resisting organism that forces you to talk. That organism is the word.
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John Berryman (drunkenly) reading “Dream Song #29.” As far as confessional poetry goes, this is one writer who can break my heart with each stanza. Depression and addiction is a two-headed ghost that has haunted far too many creative minds.
Also, an Okkervil River song based on Berryman’s final days. I love how they close out the song, a tribute to both Berryman and The Beach Boys, the nightmarish and sad seas we sometimes sail.
