Tag Archives: literature

Lazy Sunday: 28 April

Well, friends, I got you these. Enjoy a quiet day.

  • I don’t know that I would call them the “first couple of American letters,” but I really like this profile.
  • Leading men age, but leading ladies don’t. Unless they win an Oscar. Then they age a little.
  • Did you see Waitress? I loved it. I love this blog, too!
  • As I embark on this new job, I plan to escape the cult of busy, as they say. Newsflash: I’m not important.
  • Oh, my god, do I ever love Stevie. Never change, you doll.
  • My internet friend, Snowden, wrote this about Barry Hannah, a Mississippian and great writer that I think of often and hope is resting well.
  • For when you get your windfall inheritance and need to establish an offshore tax haven.
  • They changed the pimento cheese at the Masters’ and people were really bad, but no worries: Wright Thompson is ON IT.
  • E. L. Konigsburg was one of my favorite writers as a little girl, and she passed this week. I loved this piece about the Met, imagination, and her.
  • Soy Bomb strikes again.
  • To quote Mara Wilson, this is like the Social Network for NPR.
  • Where can you pick an apple for free and eat it? This map tells you.

A Quick, Nervous Bird

Billy Collins is one of my favorite living poets, mostly because he’s so, so funny. I don’t want to reduce his insightful, smart writing to just humor, but I think it’s great that he gets the joke of being a poet. There’s so much handwringing and black beret-wearing in the realm of Serious Literature, so I find it really refreshing.

ANYWAY, in honor of yet another day of National Poetry Month, I bring you A Paradelle for Susan. The paradelle is allegedly a formal poem from medieval France, similar to a villanelle, though actually, it was just a poem that Collins invented to make fun of excessively formal writing exercises. The best part? The writing establishment believed him and started writing their own paradelles. Please enjoy!

Paradelle for Susan

by Billy Collins

I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.
I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.
Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.
Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.
Thinnest love, remember the quick branch.
Always nervous, I perched on your highest bird the.

It is time for me to cross the mountain.
It is time for me to cross the mountain.
And find another shore to darken with my pain.
And find another shore to darken with my pain.
Another pain for me to darken the mountain.
And find the time, cross my shore, to with it is to.

The weather warm, the handwriting familiar.
The weather warm, the handwriting familiar.
Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below.
Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below.
The familiar waters below my warm hand.
Into handwriting your weather flies you letter the from the.

I always cross the highest letter, the thinnest bird.
Below the waters of my warm familiar pain,
Another hand to remember your handwriting.
The weather perched for me on the shore.
Quick, your nervous branch flew from love.
Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was with to to.

Real Housewives: Moscow Literati

Vera and Vladimir Nabokov.

Fun fact: I have a BA in Russian Literature. I love, love, love the weird biographies of those bizarre giants of classic auteurs, but no one ever talks about their wives. This is an amazing article about their inner lives and I recommend it.

Book of the Week: What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank

This week, I bring you Nathan Englander‘s short story collection, What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank. People made a metric tonne of noise about this when it came out early last year, and I just now got around to reading it myself.

So, the great thing about short story collections if you don’t somehow already know this (maybe you majored in engineering in college or something) is that you pretty much always have time for them. It’s not like getting Anna Karenina in your hands and thinking “I’ll just do this later.” You have time right now.

Anyway, more specifically about these short stories: I loved them. Like any collection of short stories, there are some that are better than others, but three of the eight stood out to me. The eponymous story, “Sister Hills”, and “Camp Sundown” are outstanding examples of stories that grapple with Jewish identity in America, the confusing feelings some American Jews have about their coreligionists in Israel, and the ways in which the trauma of the Shoah still reverberates loudly in contemporary society. The others take on these themes, too, but when I was reflecting on these stories after I finished, those specific ones resonated with me.

The great thing about Englander is that he’s a Jewish writer unafraid of being pretty Jewish (there’s no glossary of terms or parenthetical insert about what this means or whatever, so keep up), but he doesn’t beat you over the head with it the way Michael Chabon sometimes can or Phillip Roth almost always does. “What We Talk About…”, for example, touches on the universal-but-still-weird feeling you get when hanging out with friends from childhood with whom you no longer have anything in common. “Sister Hills” and “Camp Sundown” tangle with how frustrating your family can be, and the changing nature of filial piety. There’s so much to unpack page to page that I won’t even try to summarize it.

I also loved that he isn’t afraid to be a little funny, or to talk about the Holocaust in ways that are…unconventional, to say the least. “Free Fruit for Young Widows”, for instance, is a fairy tale set up that talks frankly about the horrors of war while making use of magical language. If there’s another example of that somewhere, I don’t know where it is.*

Anyway, I can’t recommend this highly enough, even if you feel like you’ve had your fill of Jewish-American writers writing about Jewish-American topics. It’s a collection with a great mix of gravitas and humor, and his word-pickin’ skills are second to none.

Have any of you read this? What did you think about his stories? Which were your favorites? Did you hear him read his favorite Singer story (also one of mine) on the New Yorker podcast? OMG PLEASE GO LISTEN.

Next week, I’m reading another short story collection. Please join in!

*readers, please note that I love magic realism and will revisit this love early and often.