The coolest thing I’ve read all day:
Mark Sarvas’s first novel is funny and sad, rueful, wised-up and curiously moving. A remarkable debut. – John Banville, winner of the Man Booker Prize for The Sea.
Although perhaps it should read John – fucking – Banville. The book is Mark’s upcoming debut, Harry, Revised.
Bukowski’s home will be saved after all. Eh. I like him as a dissolute icon, I do; but literary talent, not so much.
Tod demonstrates how to get on an FBI watch list.
Antoine Wilson is interviewed at Please Don’t, a new online quartlery. He describes his ideal audience — “I write to a version of myself, a literary doppelganger. I’d like that doppelganger to pick up my novel, read it, and say, ‘I wish I’d written that.'” — which is entirely appropriate for a guy who’s written a book about someone with an alter ego. Did I say excellent book? It is: The Interloper.
Truth is stranger than fiction, part 7,135,087: in the 1920s, a Memphis woman ran a sordid adoption ring. She’d trick unwed mothers into signing away their infants, bribe nurses to lie and say babies had been stillborn. One of her ill-gotten infants became Joan Crawford’s daughter (and you know how well that turned out). The Baby Thief: The Untold Story of Georgia Tann, the Baby Seller Who Corrupted Adoption sounds too good to pass up.
