Mac McClelland and the brouhaha
…critics have responded to the piece on the one hand by lambasting McClelland for being (as McClelland puts it) an “insane racist narcissist” for her portrayal of Haiti in the essay. One the other hand, they’ve also suggested that McClelland’s stated desire for violent sex will convince rapists that women want to be raped.
I am Thyrsis of Etna/blessed with a tuneful voice
Kate Moss, model, is marrying Jamie Hince, “rock star”. And, according to the website wwd fashion, she’s going to be wearing Zelda Fitzgerald’s engagement ring, which I thought was kind of cool until I saw that it’s actually just a reproduction of the original. Lame.
Deleted Scenes: Arthur Phillips
Deleted Scenes is a way to feature interesting parts of interviews didn’t make the cut. In this installment, Arthur Phillips talks about reading Moby-Dick for the first time, dated comedy, and “the most modern, ironic, humorous comic character anywhere in Shakespeare.”
Let’s Prove Malcolm Gladwell’s New Age Mumbo Jumbo is New Age Mumbo Jumbo
Malcolm Gladwell argues that success can be determined by a simple formula: s/a (if s is how many sweaters you own and a is how amusing your anecdotes are on a scale of 1-10.)
Teju Cole, whose novel Open City is incredibly smart and beautiful, has posted an essay on his blog about fait divers, brief stories of weird and startling events. Cole is in Lagos working on a non-fictional narrative about his native city.
Happy 6 Month Anniversary, Full Stop!
We’re going to party like it’s our 6 month anniversary, sip Bacardi like it’s our 6 month anniversary.
One of the most popular books in Nazi Germany was a well-made series of glossy black and white photos of nudes sunbathing and engaged in various physical activities called Mensch und Sonne. Believing that physical activity should be promoted ahead of and in place of such decadent pursuits as thinking and reading about stuff, it appealed to the Teutonic bros that eventually became the Schutzstaffel.
Hot or Not: Writers in Their Bathing Suits
Hunter S. Thompson was a babe. Virginia Woolf was rather modest. Ernest Hemingway and Tennessee Williams had probably seen better days.