Tag Archive: books


As has been pointed out many times by people better with numbers than I am, the costs of publishing an ebook are not zero. That is, if you have any interest at all in a quality product. No one goes around suggesting that everyone should become their own autonomous cheesemakers and cheering the death of the cheese industry. Why? Because that would result in a lot of shitty cheese. The idea that we should all be hiring our own massive staff of personnel instead of letting the publishers do it is bizarre on the face of it.

First of all, it’s financially ridonkulous. Professional editors of the level I work with now make money. Grown-up money that I cannot pay them, because I am not a rich person and never will be. Let alone copyediting, typsetting, and cover art (which is vastly important, don’t be fooled). I have zero interest in paying out $7000-$15000 before the book gets published, and almost certainly seeing minimal profit (especially since that 70% Amazon deal everyone’s so sweet on has a whole lot of strings attached). I like it when someone else does that. Publishers are risk-assesors, and they assume the risk, which is not insignificant, while I create the book. The “hire your own editor” handwaving strikes me as the strangest of this whole memescape. Really? Hire my own? With what money, without an advance? I suspect there is a pernicious undercurrent here that editors and copyeditors and artists and typesetters might not really need to be paid either. We’re all in it for the love, after all, and most people aren’t clear on what those behind the sceners do, anyway.

Not to mention, a beginning writer on their own has no idea who the best heads in the business are, who to hire even if they had the money, to make their book better. What is far more likely is that they’ll get taken in by the many scams out there, spend the money anyway, and still have a terrible book. It takes experience and time to know who to work with–and experience and time are exactly what people seem to want to cut out of the process.

Rules for Anchorites – The End of the World As We Know It And I Feel Fine.


William S. Burroughs talking at a workshop

Tied in knots. Blog suffering. My most profuse of apologies.

But I’m untangling myself just long enough to bring you some choice audio. Brought to light by Jason Louv over at Dangerous Minds:

The Naropa University Archive Project is preserving and providing access to over 5000 hours of recordings made at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. The library was developed under the auspices of the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics (the university’s Department of Writing and Poetics) founded in 1974 by poets Anne Waldman and Allen Ginsberg. It contains readings, lectures, performances, seminars, panels and workshops conducted at Naropa by many of the leading figures of the U.S.literary avant-garde.

The collection represents several generations of artists who have contributed to aesthetic and cultural change in the postmodern era. The Naropa University Archive Project seeks to enhance appreciation and understanding of post-World War II American literature and its role in social change, cultural criticism, and the literary arts through widespread dissemination of the actual voices of the poets and writers of this period. Current interest in Oriental religions, environmentalism, political activism, ethnic studies, and women’s consciousness is directly indebted to the work of these New American Poets, writers and musicians.

Funding for this project was provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, Save America’s Treasures, the GRAMMY Foundation, the Internet Archive, the Collaborative Digitization Program, and private donors. If this collection is important to you please help us preserve it with your donations.

There are mad metric tons of stuff to be found here. Interesting stuff. Stuff worthy of your time, if you have the time.  I’ve barely scratched the surface of what is up in this archive. If your at all interested in writing, Burroughs, Kerouac, Ginsberg and the whole beat thing then this is a motherlode of psychotextural awesome right here. I’ve just spent over an hour listening to one recording, Burroughs talking at a Jack Kerouac conference. He starts off talking about Kerouac and writing in general and ends with a Q&A session that spreads over into the second part. You can barely hear the questions but the answers are always interesting. Here’s a rough contents list of the first part cribbed from a comment on the Internet Archive page.

1:00: A writer writes
5:00: K sets up WSB with a Trust Fund? No Burroughs millions?
8:00: Writing marks a man- any writing is totally revealing (if you know how to read).
13:00: What is a writer actually doing? Making the reader aware of what they know and doesn’t know he knows.
20:00: First version=best? Worked for K, not WSB
28:00: Comparison of Gatsby and OTR
31:00: Alcoholism and the writer (writing in a state of stress)
31:30: Do you use a word processor?
32:20: Seeing in images as opposed to words. How do you conjure up these images?
32:45: What the hell was THAT question? Love is a mixture between sex and liking.
32:30: Why didn’t you publish XXXXX?
34:00: Why are we seeing more of you lately?
34:30: Joyce/K influence?
35:00: K wsb influence direction?
35:40: Writer needs time?
37:00: Cutup process?

Anyway, have at it!

Part one:

part two:

Homepage of the archive


If you find anything amazingly awesome in the archive i’d love to hear about it!

The biographical details printed on the back flap of his sprawling, ambitious new novel, Chronic City, merely hint at the scope and genre-bending nature of Jonathan Lethem‘s fiction. Since publishing Gun, With Occasional Music – a fusion of Philip K Dick, Raymond Chandler and Alice in Wonderland – in 1994, Lethem has flirted with science fiction, noir, fantasy, literary fiction, memoir, and Shakespearean pastiche to formulate a body of work that – on the face of it – is so eclectic in style and approach that each novel seemingly could be the work of a different writer.

The publication of his breakout novel – 1999’s Motherless Brooklyn – perfectly encapsulates his diverse and scattergun approach to fiction. An inventive, evocative crime drama centring on a language=obsessed Tourette’s sufferer, it managed to win the Macallan Gold Dagger but also a National Book Critics’ Circle award – an impressive and unusual achievement, especially considering the novel that preceded it: Girl in Landscape, an odd reworking of The Searchers (with apparently inadvertent nods to A Passage to India) set in space.

When asked at last week’s reading at the London Review Bookshop about the wildly different nature of his work, and whether this was a help or a hindrance to his work, Lethem was wholly positive about his polyglot sensibilities. There was no peril, he said, in moving from one genre, geographic location or style of writing; in fact there could be no other way to write his books. Alluding to his 2007 essay “The Ecstasy of Influence“, Lethem suggested that his novels were as much born out of his reading as of his experiences – something backed up by 1997’s As She Climbed Across the Table, which is in many ways a literary billet-doux to Don DeLillo. It wasn’t so much that Lethem wanted to be the man who never wrote the same book twice; it was just that he was incapable of doing so.

Creatively speaking, his argument was both logical and sure-footed: after all, no one would deny writers the absolute right to choose the subject and style of their work. But such diversity is not perhaps the best way to endear yourself to a readership, or to receive a consistent critical reception. A writer’s novel may be their own, but once published it becomes the preserve of the reader – and readers tend to want to trust that their authors will deliver the kind of book expected of them.

Toby Lichtig took John Irving to task earlier this week for his endless recycling of themes and preoccupations, but for many readers this is not necessarily such a bad thing. Yes it sometimes seems hackneyed, but the appeal of the familiar cannot be overlooked. If an author’s work is all over the place in terms of style, it’s often easy not to bother keeping up with them. With so many demands on readers’ time, and such a wealth of choice, an author who deviates wildly from their established milieu is simply adding layers of doubt for readers – which is what makes publishers nervous.

In an industry obsessed with creating brands – whether in genre or literary fiction – constantly confounding your publishers and readers can leave authors struggling to attract either. It’s debatable whether Lethem would have had the same kind of five-book support for his genre-bending fictions – even with all his awards – in the current climate, but I’m sure that there would be some grumbling from the sales department eager to sell in another fantasy-crime novel featuring a returning character.

The problem is, as Lethem highlighted, that one can only write the books you feel compelled to write. And while for the vast majority these are thematically, geographically, stylistically or generically linked to each other, for the few – the brilliant, yet perpetually overlooked Chris Paling and the incredible but under-championed Nicholson Baker for example – such similarities are much harder to tease out. Finding a readership is a long struggle, keeping one an even more titanic battle – even without adding your own obstacles along the way.

Jonathan Lethem may contend that there are no perils in an eclectic approach to fiction, but the mixed critical and commercial response to You Don’t Love Me Yet, the follow up to Fortress of Solitude, shows that readers don’t always thank you for pulling their comfort blanket away from them. Artists are duty bound to create the work that they imagine; unfortunately, however, readers are not compelled to read them.

What writers risk in not repeating themselves | Books | guardian.co.uk.

<via >


Whether it’s Tony Montana snorting lines of coke the length of pool tables, Cheech and Chong puffing on some quality bud, Harry Goldfarb injecting himself with smack, or crack smoking on The Wire, mind-altering and recreational drugs have been a major part of movies and television for a long time.  But there are also a gangload of fictional drugs to consider, when the stuff that already exists isn’t potent enough.

Some fictional drugs can be simply a great time, while others grant the user incredible perspective or abilities.  One thing’s for sure, they are all a lot more powerful than the dime bag you bought from the creepy guy on the corner.  Anyway, there are quite a few that stick out, so take a look at the most memorable fictional drugs in movies and television.

Unreality – Fictional Drugs from Movies and Telelvision |.

The Cure‘s Robert Smith and Franz Ferdinand are amongst the artists who will feature on the upcoming soundtrack of Tim Burton‘s film adaptation of Alice In Wonderland.

Released on March 2 and called ‘Almost Alice’, the soundtrack was already set to feature a collaboration between Blink-182’s Mark Hoppus and Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz, as well as a song by Avril Lavigne.

Now MySpace reports that Robert Smith will cover the song ‘Very Good Advice’, while Franz Ferdinand have worked on the track ‘The Lobster Quadrille’.

Also appearing on the soundtrack are bands such as Owl City, Plain White T’s and Aussie rockers Wolfmother.

Burton‘s adaptation of Lewis Carroll‘s Alice In Wonderland is scheduled for release on March 5. It stars Johnny Depp, Mia Wasikowska and Anne Hathaway, with other actors set to appear including Matt Lucas, Stephen Fry, Barbara Windsor and Paul Whitehouse.

The Cure and Franz Ferdinand added to ‘Alice In Wonderland’ soundtrack | News | NME.COM.



– – – –

1. Allow the angel to reach room temperature. Then kill it.

2. Kill God. Set Him aside.

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

4. Ecstatically whip, as if possessed by a storm-wind of freedom, 1-1/2 cups of excellent egg whites with 1/4 tsp. salt and 1-1/2 tsp. cream of tartar. Continue until peaks are as if raised to their own heights and given wings in a fine air, a robust air.

5. Gradually add 3/4 cup sugar, about 3 tbsp. at a time.

6. You are brilliant.

7. Now, add 1 tsp. vanilla and 1/4 tsp. almond extract, and then sift together 1-1/4 cups flour and 3/4 cup sugar.

8. Blend in God and the angel. Emboldened, add the egg mixture.

9. Gaze into the überbatter. The überbatter will gaze into you.

10. While prancing about in a frenzy of self-satisfaction and anticipation, use a rubber scraper to push the überbatter into an ungreased 10″ tube pan, for it is destined to be there.

11. Bake on a lower rack until done, usually 35-40 minutes, while reciting to the upper rack a long, convoluted anecdote about your childhood.

12. Invert the tube pan over a bottle for a few hours. Then impetuously rap the pan. Shout, “Aha!” and slide a knife along the pan’s insides.

13. Call what tumbles out a cake if you dare. Call it miraculous even.

14. Eat it. It is delicate, morbid, loveable, and you will die depressed, delirious, and overweight.

Nietzsche’s Angel Food Cake By Rebecca Coffey
Great Moments in Sports, Which, Had They Involved Me, Would Not Have Been Such Great Moments By Frank Ferri
A Few Words Regarding My Recent Appearances on Maury By Jesse Adelman
The Gospel According to His Good Friend Dennis By Rich Cohen
Mom Takes Children’s Songs Literally By Sarah Schmelling
– – – –

McSweeney’s Internet Tendency: Nietzsche’s Angel Food Cake..

via Dangerous Minds.

fear and loathing in MACRO


As an act of wanton barbarism, there is little to rival the symbolism of setting fire to a book. It is, therefore, genuinely shocking to learn that book-burning is taking place in south Wales. Pensioners in Swansea are reportedly buying books from charity shops for just a few pence each and taking them home for fuel. With temperatures plummeting and energy costs on the rise, thick books such as encyclopaedias are said to be particularly sought after.

“Book burning seems terribly wrong, but we have to get rid of unsold stock for pennies and some of the pensioners say the books make ideal slow-burning fuel for fires and stoves,” one charity-shop assistant said.

In the name of civility, we must stop this outrage – even if some of the books might be remaindered celebrity autobiographies. So, while we await the fruits of our politicians’ promises to tackle fuel poverty, here are some alternative sources of cheap heat:

• Telephone directories. Do the neighbourly thing and direct a directory towards someone who could make better use of it than as a glorified door stop. Rip off any shiny covers, though; when burned, plastic-coated paper produces nasty pollutants such as dioxins. For the same reason, never burn plastic food packaging.

• Cowpats. Hundreds of millions of people around the world use dried dung as a domestic fuel source, so why shouldn’t we? Well, there is one good reason: on a mass scale, in places such as India, the burning of dung causes considerable localised air pollution. But a few dried cowpats tossed on the fire at home probably won’t trigger an environmental armageddon.

• Wooden pallets. Most industrial estates will have surplus pallets. Ask if you can take one to break up for use as kindling or as an alternative to logs.

• Newspaper briquettes. If you’re still intent on combusting hard-crafted words, then you might as well set fire to this very newspaper instead. Buy yourself a briquette press, soak a load of old copies in the bath, then spend a few hours making your own paper briquettes. Once dry, they will burn much like logs.

Why are they burning books in south Wales? | Money | The Guardian.

Leo Tolstoy: the forgotten genius?

I actually managed to get hold of a copy of The Guardian yesterday. Even though I didn’t really feel like reading a newspaper it’s such a rare occurance that I brought it anyway.  One cool thing about the guardian is that you can link to anything you read in there because their web portal is so all encompassing. This is one of those. Worth a read for the insight into Tolstoy, news of a forthcoming biopic on the man and, in my case, as a reminder to read the bastard!


For Tolstoy fans, 2010 is set to be a wonderful year. One hundred years after the great Russian novelist fled from his country estate outside Moscow – dying three weeks later in a small provincial railway station – the world is gearing up to celebrate him. In Germany and the US there are fresh translations of Anna Karenina; in Cuba and Mexico Tolstoy bookfairs; worldwide, a new black- and-white documentary. Dug up from Russia’s archives and restored, the ­ original cinema footage shows an elderly Tolstoy playing with his poodles and vaulting energetically on his horse.

One country, however, has so far conspicuously failed to share in this global Tolstoy mania – Russia. Rumour has it that Vladimir Putin toured Tolstoy’s country estate incognito as a young KGB spy, but so far the Kremlin is not planning any major event to mark the centenary of Tolstoy’s death on 20 November. Not only that, but the makers of The Last Station ended up shooting the film not among the birch trees and northern skylines of Tolstoy’s Russia, but in the somewhat more genteel surroundings of rustic eastern Germany.

Leo Tolstoy: the forgotten genius? | Books | The Guardian.

I first stumbled upon the name Anais Nin in my teenage years. I was reading alot of  early to mid 20th century american-european literature. You know, Henry Miller,  Charles Bukowski, Kerouac. It was very much the era of the confessional, although frankly that term carries a little too much of a catholic guilt undertone for my liking.  A more apt expression would be to say that these writers were documenting a lifestyle (often bohemian, definately on the fringes of society) and time period through the lens of their experience and under the influence of writers who had come before them.  Nin herself is perhaps best known for her diaries and was very much part of bohemian circles wherever she went, being invovled socially and romantically with writers and artists.  She appears in films by both meya derren and kenneth anger; two prominant underground film makers of the time, the former being especially important culturally for creating avant garde works in the predominantly male-dominated  counterculture although to reduce both Anais and Maya’ contributions to their paticular gender is to pay them a great disservice. I mean, Kenneth Anger is also pretty damn vital too,  especially considering his representations of homosexuality, but to say that this is all there is to his work is as bad as just giving props to Deren and Nin for being female.

Anyways,  barely structured and formless ramblings aside, Nin is also known for her Erotic Writings. I’ve only read one book by Nin, much to my shame, and it was a collection of such writings called Little Birds and was a well worth while read. I urge anyone who has the opportunity to read any of her works to seize the chance.

fuck, where was i going with all this? My head keeps telling me that i need to write posts on Deren and Anger but that’s not where this started.

Oh yeah, Nin. She write good. She lived interesting life surrounded by interesting people. She documented a vital time in 20th century society, art and counterculture in a frank manner.  She’s a damn fine writer of erotic fiction. She held her own in social circles dominated by men.

This is her talking about drugs, specifically LSD, taken from one of her diaries:

[Huxley] reminded me that drugs are beneficial if they provide the only access to our nightlife. I realized that the expression “blow my mind” was born of the fact that America had cemented access to imagination and fantasy and that it would take dynamite to remove this block! I believed Leary’s emphasis on the fact we use only one percent of our mind or potential, that everything in our education conspires to restrict and constrict us. I only wished people had had time to study drugs as they studied religion or philosophy and to adapt to this chemical alteration of our bodies.

[LSD’s] value is in being a shortcut to the unconscious, so that one enters the realm of intuition unhampered, pure as it is in children, of direct emotional reaction to nature, to other human beings. In a sense it is the return to the spontaneity and freshness of childhood vision which makes every child able to paint or sing.


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The Books We’d Give Famous Folk for Christmas

Ah, lists of cultural stuffs. They’re paticularly prevailant at this time of year, although to be honest they’re pretty prevailant all year round on the internet. They’re okay for a giggle, I guess, but alot of them are  a bit lazy and superficial.

This one is pretty interesting though. It’s from the Scottish Book Trust who turned me down for a writing bursuary earlier this year. I’m trying not to hold it against them though because, although I live in Scotland and have done for the past two years, I’m not actually Scottish. My girlfriend is though.  I kinda hoped that would of counted for something. Maybe my writing just sucks.

Nah, Must be that other thing.

You’ll be able to find out for yourself soon enough as I’ll be posting extracts of my novel-in-progress at some point in the new year.


Jack Kerouac

Lonely Planet – America on a Shoestring

chosen by Julia Collins

I was rather disappointed when I opened up my piece of paper to find that I had picked Jack Kerouac. Secretly, I had been hoping for a name for which I could recommend Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, as this tends to be my book of choice for, well, just about anything really. However, the thought of Jack Kerouac settling down in a drugged-up stupor to read Jane Eyre did not fit and instead I have settled for the Lonely Planet’s America on a Shoestring series.

I think that this series would have been invaluable for Jack, as apparently these books take you across the continent while “keeping some change in your pocket”.

Joseph Stalin

The Complete Poems and Plays of TS Eliot

chosen by Anna Gibbons

I have agonised over this. A book for Stalin? Moreover a book that I’ve read? My repertoire consists largely of children’s fantasy and Stalin, in my humble opinion, wouldn’t get much out of Diana Wynne Jones. But I was struck by inspiration in the unlikeliest of settings. I attended a carol service in which the Professor of Divinity of Edinburgh University gave the address. I’m ashamed to admit I expected to be bored. But he spoke eloquently with a message for all, not just those who believe in the Christmas story. He talked of the Magi, the three wise men, and their quest to find Jesus and give him the gifts that were most precious to them. He particularly emphasised T S Eliot’s depiction of them in his poem ‘Journey of the Magi’ – after having seen Christ, returning to their own country and everyday lives is dull and painful. It’s hard to go back once discovery has taken you forward. The message of both the Professor and Eliot is this: life is about development, moving on, searching for a greater truth, being open, releasing the past, learning about what’s really important – messages which might have served Stalin well. As an after thought and a stocking filler I’d pop in The Little Book of Calm as well.

William Shakespeare

Tamburlaine Must Die by Louise Welsh

chosen by Olivier Joly

Tamburlaine Must Die is a thriller set in 1593 London that follows playwright Christopher Marlowe in the three days leading to his death as he searches for his own character who has escaped from between the pages of his play Tamburlaine the Great.

There is a theory that Marlowe faked his death in 1593 to re-appear as William Shakespeare (they were both baptized in 1564 and Shakespeare’s first play Comedy of Errors is believed to have been written between 1592 and 1594). It obviously makes a lot of sense for Shakespeare to read a book about his last days as his former self…

Philip Pullman

Swamp Thing: The Curse by Alan Moore

chosen by Sophie Moxon

Philip Pullman is a committed humanist who once said that, through his writing, he is “trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief”. Now I would hate to offend one of our finest writers by buying him a present in celebration of a religious festival he may well choose to ignore. Therefore, out of respect, I would like to use the money to buy myself a large glass of red wine with which to toast Philip’s continued health and happiness.

Unfortunately I’ve been told this is “cheating” so, just as a gesture of general good will, Philip is getting Swamp Thing: The Curse. This classic comic features the enigmatic John Constantine, a man who refuses to deal in absolutes and puts the good interests of people before the dictates of heaven and hell. I think Philip would appreciate that.

loads more to be found here.

How great a title for an essay is that?!? I found it in the footnotes of the wikipedia page on ‘Gravity’s rainbow’. I haven’t read it all yet, it’s ten pages long, but I shall be and wanted to share it with you fine fine people.

The essay concerns itself specifically with Gravity’s raindow and Naked Lunch, the latter being amongst my favourite books. I consider William Burroughs a key influence on my writing and thinking and have struggled to keep that beast at bay lest it leap onto the page and make it seem like I am nothing but a pale facsimilie 😉


Among all the forms of mental extremity, paranoia and schizophrenia seem to be dominant in North American metafiction. The word and the concept of paranoia are among the most controversial in the history of psychoanalysis.
Although etymologically paranoia means madness or disorder of the mind, J. Laplanche and J. B. Pontalis define it as a
“chronic psychosis characterized by more or less systematized delusion, with a predominance of ideas of reference but with no weakening of the intellect [ … ]. Along with delusions of persecution, Freud places erotomania, delusional jealousy and delusions of grandeur under the heading of paranoia” (296). It is important to stress that unlike schizophrenia, whose fundamental symptom is Spaltung (“dissociation,” “splitting”) and whose typical characteristics include incoherence of thought, action and affection, paranoia is not accompanied by intellectual deterioration (Laplanche and Pontalis 298-9; 409). What is more, the paranoid’s frenzied production of references and connections could result in an uncontrolled acceleration of the intellect.

From the point of view of the psychoanalytic establishment, this form of hyper-consciousness leads to a psychotic discourse; in literature it is used by writers, among other techniques, to convey a visionary and prophetic tone in their narratives. However, it is not difficult to find both forms of psychosis in the same work. Indeed, they may also coexist in real life, a circumstance to which Kraepelin and Freud refer using the term “paraphrenia” (Laplanche and Pontalis 299).
In contemporary US metafiction it is common to find paranoid narrative voices describing plots and confabulations. The victims of this universal aggression typically are characters who face mental dissociation or disintegration. These personages populate a universe characterized by what Fredric Jameson considers the psychopathology of “the age of corporate capitalism,” an age controlled by multinational corporations and state bureaucracies, where the “older bourgeois individual [unified] subject no longer exists”

link to PDF version

link to google auto-generated html version

Pynchon is one of those writers. One of those writers that I’ve been meaning to read but just haven’t gotten around to. Because I suck, basically, and because I read alot of books I pick up in charity shops and you never know what your going to score before you go in. There is a second hand bookshop in my town but for some reason, probably cuz I have a backlog of stuff to read already, i seldom go in there. Never the less I shall pick up Gravity’s rainbow at some point and have a good crack at it. I do like my difficult books and the hypertextual sprawl of the post modern appeals to my fractured sensibilities. Plus, anybody who does guest-spots on the simpsons wearing a paper-bag over his head with a question mark enblazened on it has to be cool, right?

Looking back on it, I think Pynchon saw his life as mainly being concerned with writing, and experimenting with ideas in writing that nobody had tried before. I remember one day he showed me a drawerful of gun manuals. He liked to think of weapons as ambivalent sexual components of the underworld he was trying to make sense of. There was a lack of sentimentality in his approach to literature: he wanted it to be great and he wanted it to make him money. Candida Donadio was his agent in those days and I think it was made possible for Tom to do nothing but write for most of his life. And his life was guarded. As I recall, he could phone out but nobody could call him. Nobody knew his number. He also had copies of only one outfit, which he wore over and over – green cords and a purple shirt. Old friends of mine who lived near him said they had seen him on the street, but had never bothered to find out who he was. Fine with him. He had his teenage groupies and when he wasn’t writing, he partied hard with the kids. But never drank. Weed was his diversion.

via LRB · Bill Pearlman · Short Cuts.

I keep saying this and nobody seems to agree, but The Catcher in the Rye is a very novelistic novel. There are readymade “scenes”—only a fool would deny that—but, for me, the weight of the book is in the narrator’s voice, the non-stop peculiarities of it, his personal, extremely discriminating attitude to his reader-listener, his asides about gasoline rainbows in street puddles, his philosophy or way of looking at cowhide suitcases and empty toothpaste cartons—in a word, his thoughts. He can’t legitimately be separated from his own first-person technique.

more after the jump. This letter, from Salanger to a producer wishing to make the movie, is being auctioned off for $54,000.

via Dangerous Minds.

Kathy Acker interviews William Burroughs

Great conversation between the two people who defined punk literature in the 1980s, one of them a couple decades ahead of time.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four


Cat Hepburn

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