The Mumpsimus

  1. Early in her new book, To Write As If Already Dead , Kate Zambreno notes that "Kafka's insurance firm was full of aspiring poets, a reminder that it is fairly commonplace to want to be a writer or poet. It is more unusual to stay a writer despite lack of status or outward success, to sacrifice sanity, sleep, positive well-being, health, to instead dwell in a life that is one of almost constant paranoia, oscillating between horror at invisibility and nausea at visibility." One of the things about Kate Zambreno's work that I particularly appreciate is the way it refuses to be positive and hopeful. (More than anything else, that's what links her to Jean Rhys , a writer she has frequently referenced overtly and covertly.) To Write As If Already Dead  makes the life of a writer seem just flat-out awful; it also makes the life of a mother seem flat-out awful. A mother who is also a writer? Sheer, unrelieved torture. Nevertheless, she persists. Zambreno's narrat

sunset at "Whistle" light house, Grand Manan, via Wikipedia Alice Munro will celebrate her 90th birthday on July 10 of this year, and in honor of that auspicious occasion, I plan to write here a few posts about her work. This is the first. At the heart of Alice Munro's story "Dulse" is a question the protagonist wonders about the writer Willa Cather: How did she live?  It is a question of vital importance to her, because she is at a moment of transition in her own life, and her future feels unclear.  Munro knows that the power of fiction is in posing questions, not answering them, and the wonder of this story is that it shows us that such questions as how to live may sometimes be the wrong ones — that how  is not nearly as important as to live . "Dulse" was first published in The New Yorker  in 1980, then revised for inclusion in Alice Munro's 1982 collection The Moons of Jupiter . The biggest change between the magazine and book versions is the

This is the fourth post in a series I have fallen into calling " Revisitations ", in which I chronicle gay male short fiction from the 1980s and 1990s, starting first with the Men on Men series of anthologies. For the concept and purpose behind this series, see the first post .   Contents (source in parentheses if previously published elsewhere) Men on Men 4: Best New Gay Fiction edited by George Stambolian, Plume/Penguin, 1992, 405 pages introduction by Felice Picano "Love in the Backrooms" by John Rechy "Fucking Martin" by Dale Peck "The Fiancé" by Michael Wade Simpson ( Crescent Review ) "Sacred Lips of the Bronx" by Douglas Sadownick "The Little Trooper" by Manuel Igrejas "Cultural Revolution" by Norman Wong ( Kenyon Review ) "The Magistrate's Monkey" by Richard House "Ten Reasons Why Michael and Geoff Never Got It On" by Raymond Luczak "The Greek Head"

  8 fragments for Dylan on his 80th birthday—   1. Oh a false clock tries to tick out my time While it can feel a bit strange to think of any icon of youth culture (which he surely was in the mid-1960s) as an older person, Dylan has often seemed old, or at least outside of time. He began his professional career not as the rock 'n' roll innovator he would (briefly) become, but as someone devoted to the music of his parents' and grandparents' generation. His debut album only had two original songs (both folksy); all the rest were blues standards or old traditionals. Even when he was electrifying the acoustic world, he never lost his devotion to the old, weird sound. He followed up the rock of  Highway 61 Revisited  (1965) and Blonde on Blonde  (1966) with the antiquarian quiet of  John Wesley Harding  (1967) and the crooning country of  Nashville Skyline  (1969). Dylan turning 80 doesn't feel the least bit surprising; it feels appropriate. In many ways, Dylan has al