Sunshine state
I was on the phone yesterday with Michael Greenberg, talking about some photo project thing, when it came up that he was in L.A. discussing the film rights to his most recent memoir, Hurry Down Sunshine. 
For those of you unfamiliar, it’s the story of his then 15-year-old daughter’s sudden and complete descent into utter madness during the summer of 1996. To me, Greenberg sounded understandably unsure as to whether he was comfortable with putting such a personal and emotionally ravaging experience up on the screen where, presumably, that adorable Abigail Breslin would play the cutest little crazy person America has ever seen. But hasn’t he had already let the cat out of the bag by writing the book? But he’d lose creative control if he signed the rights over to a movie studio. But he’d likely get a ton of money. In a similar situation, I’d like to think that I’d walk away, but I’m not sure that’s the right move. After all, I’d really love to have the flatscreen and signed Michael Vick Eagles jersey. Oh, and a butler. Actually, I’d probably hire Blake to be my butler, cause that’d be funny, right? Blake the Butler! Oh, and…
Justin Taylor—
(via Best American Poetry blog) “The Revenge of the Epigoni” by Lynn Chu, on why the Google settlement sucks. Thing is, Chu pretty much starts in the middle of the argument, so going to the BestAmPo post first for some context is actually a pretty good idea.
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Talking back at quotes on writing
I came across these nice quotes about writing, and since I can’t talk back at my mother, I figure I would talk back at famous writers. I’d rather get a roll in the grave than a slap in the face. All in fun, and much respect to these writers’ ideas on writing, but it kinda annoys me when people tell others “the final word” on writing, or art, or life in general. What makes Faulkner & Orwell (just a random pair) each so awesome is their completely different approach/goal, thus their completely different audience. I think the same applies to politics and religion, and other stuff people like to fight about. Certain arguments or dialogs are futile — writing just is, and I’m grateful to be able to choose what I read and to enjoy it. I’m happy that we all enjoy words, and that’s about it. Check out the linked quotes, some are really special. After the break is just for fun.
Matthew Simmons—
Just putting this out there into the world. If I stipulate that you are within your constitutional right to do so, would you consider maybe NOT BRINGING A FUCKING GUN to an Obama Health Care town hall, anyway? Could this be one of those, “Sure, I can do it, but I’m not going to” sorts of things?
Rate my bookshelf
The books here are pretty good or whatever, but what I like is that this bookshelf is functional. Who wants to make me one?
Ryan Call—
Gary Shteyngart reads/performs a bit from Gogol’s Dead Souls; he first reads in English and then in Russian. Really fascinating to hear it in Russian. The reading was part of 92Y Poetry Center’s celebration of Gogol’s 200th birthday on March 30th.
Everything all at once: As a Friend by Forrest Gander
I’ve been struggling for a while to put into words what I think is going on in the third section of Forrest Gander‘s slim, remarkable novel As a Friend.
The book is broken into four sections. In section one, Les—the book’s subject—is born. In section two, Clay—a friend—talks about the events that led up to his betrayal of Les. In section four, we read comments made by Les, outtakes from a film someone was making about him.
The birth section is an overture—character comes to life and book comes to life at the same time. A moment on the book’s timeline and its consequences.
The Clay section is a look at this remarkable person. Les is a land surveyor and a poet. He is an out-sized individual. Clay is gives readers a longer timeline—Les over the years Clay knew him. It’s also past tense. Clay has some perspective on Les’s life and his death. (Les commits suicide after Clay betrays him by telling Les’s wife about his relationship with another woman.) READ MORE >
Justin Taylor—
I needed a new bookshelf. before breaking down and ordering one from Staples.com ($49.99 for a wooden 5-shelf) I decided to try the thrift store next door to my apartment. They have a ton of bookshelves, apparently NONE of which are for sale. Probably this is because they’re covered in books which ARE for sale. I didn’t need any books. In fact, books are why I was having this whole shelf-problem in the first place. But then, there, sitting on top of a pile (and btw, if you’re just going to pile the books anyway, why not sell me the shelf? piles work even better on floors than on shelves) I spotted Confucius to Cummings: An Anthology of Poetry edited by Ezra Pound and Marcella Spann. Mine for one hot crumpled dollar bill. No tax. From the back cover: “It is a statement by example of the ‘Pound critical canon’ and, as such, a short course in the history of world poetry…” It will have pride of place on my new bookshelf, which Staples will be delivering sometime tomorrow, along with the pink plastic pencil case ($.50) I ordered to tip the total price over the $50 line and therefore earn free shipping.