Social media, the thing you should avoid talking about because, and we now have nearly twenty years of data about this, people who start talking about it will never, ever be able to stop, this week delivered up a classic can't-quit-you moment for me. On Bluesky, where even
I'm reading Alex Ross's Wagnerism, which is very good; I feel like I'm not a good judge of nonfiction because I read so little of it. When I read nonfiction I'm a tourist, I don't actually know how they do
Just a brief note while savoring every page of Elsa Morante's Lies and Sorcery, available in unexpurgated English translation for the first time via NYRB Classics – Jenny McPhee does the honors and is a marvel, a translator of sensitivity, wit, and rhythm. It's a huge book,
Yesterday I finished Patrick McCabe's Poguemahone, which was published by Unbound, which publishes reader-supported books; I was one of this book's supporters, since McCabe's The Butcher Boy left an indelible impression on me. I read and enjoy plenty of books whose pages I'
I move on from things, but they don't move on from me. I was into the prog era of Genesis for a couple of years and then I got into Lou Reed & David Bowie, and I then don't think I listened to a note of
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I woke up and had something to say, but I didn't feel like posting it on Facebook, so I signed up for Ghost. My track record of keeping up with online writing is spotty if you subtract out Last Plane to Jakarta's remarkably long every-Sunday run,