The first debate between the candidates for presidency of the US is tonight at 9PM ET.
Here’s some more info:
CNN: inside politics
WIRED: net assault
“There Are So Many Experiences I Want to Write About Having Had” is an essay of utter perfection in The Onion:
It would be so incredible to see—to really see—an innocent man die. And then to write—to really, truly write—about the injustice of that man’s death. And then to have people who buy Granta read—really, truly, and utterly read—about that death with their own eyes. Of course, I would not escape such carnage unscathed: The emotional scars would be invisible to the naked eye, but totally evident in the depth of my astounding writing.
Read about Terri’s harrowing journey to the publication of her first novel.
Pledge
by Elizabeth Powell
The tour has officially kicked off. Read Moore’s tour blog here.
I got The Da Vinci Code out of the library last year and returned it unread. I’m not typically snobbish about what I read but I had built this book up in my mind as something spectacular (because all my friends and family were urging me to read it) that when the prose on the first few pages did not wow me I was disappointed.
Finally, I have given in and have now read it. I do love a good thriller and this one is great. What I enjoyed about the book was the story within the story, i.e. the search for the Holy Grail, the proposed meaning of the Holy Grail, etc. I liked that it takes place in Paris and the UK. I liked all the stuff about Da Vinci and the sacred feminine. I also really liked the ending. Basically, once I let go of my inner copy editor, it was a good read.
What I didn’t like so much was the sort of Scooby Doo aspect of the plot (“if it weren’t for these meddling kids, we would have gotten away with it, too!”), the wooden characters (the main character, Langdon, is sort of clichéd and is given a dialogue affect of often exclaiming questions—very irritating!), and, as I’ve already stated, some of the less artful aspects of the prose.
Still, Brown is a good teacher and presents his thesis in an interesting way. I was intrigued by his ideas and am eager to learn more.
Well, what can I say? I’m embarrassed that Yusuf Islam was denied entry into the United States. I’m irritated that there is no disclosure as to why. And I’m afraid for what this means for the future of this country (especially for those of us who live here and are not yet citizens).
Still, I credit Islam for keeping his sense of humor over the whole ordeal:
“They diverted the plane at the last moment to a place called Bangor, which I’d never heard of, and suddenly I was surrounded by FBIs who interrogated me,” Mr Islam said today. “I wasn’t handcuffed or anything like that. They actually treated me very well. The one positive thing I can say is that a lot of security officers are pleased because they got my autograph.”
Read the whole story in Guardian Unlimited.
The Fall Issue of Zoetrope: All Story leads off with Rattawut Lapcharoensap’s haunting story At the Café Lovely, the tale of two Bangkok brothers whose father has died (and they lose mother as well. While she is physically present, she is mired in grief and unable to act or see or hear in a way they need her to). Indeed, they are all entombed in their apartment which always has the windows shut in the sweltering heat because the city dump is burning nearby (except on Saturdays).
The big scene is when the older brother, Anek, brings the younger brother (who is also the narrator) to a whore house where he is going to hang out with his group of friends. Even though the boy is clearly too young to be there, one gets the sense that Anek is trying to be like his father (who brought him when he was 15), but he lacks the skills.
There is glue sniffing, and young women winking. There are remembrances of how the younger brother follows in Anek’s footsteps and there is a sad ending of history repeating itself over and over. The most haunting scene is when the narrator recalls himself at a later age, hanging in a gang like Anek’s and sniffing glue like they do, except the moment ends in tragedy when one of the boys accidentally sets himself alight:
He never made a sound, just ran around that alley with his face on fire, the flames catching in his hair and his clothes, looking like some giant ignited match in the shape of a man. For a second, we couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening–some of us laughed, most of us were just stunned–before I managed to chase the boy down, tackle him to the ground, and beat out the flames from his face with my T-shirt. His eyes were wild with terror and we just stared at each other for a moment before he started to weep hysterically, his body shaking under mine, the terrible scent of burnt flesh and singed hair filling the alley. His lashes and eyebrows had been burned cleanly off his face. His eyelids were raw, pink. His face began to swell immediately, large white welts blooming here and there. And he just kept on crying beneath me, calling for his mother and father, blubbering incoherently in the high, desperate voice of a child.
Finally, the brothers live out an ugly cycle of loss and rejection. After Anek leaves, the narrator steals from and then is kicked out by his mother (who suddenly comes back to life for this one act). In the end, though, what they have is what they had in the beginning: each other.
I found this story gripping and well worth the read.
As with the Vernal Equinox, the Autumnal or Fall Equinox, also known as Mabon to those who follow the Olde Way, is the time when day and night are equal. Here the land is full of the gifts of nature and the effort of humankind.
The night air has a tang about it, the darkness of winter is coming and it’s time for the earth to sleep until the sun is again brought forth from the dark.
Learn more at: www.equinox-and-solstice.com
The magnificent Amy Bloom in her intro to the edition of Ploughshares for which she was guest editor, says (on writers sending out stories):
If you are lucky, and the world is turning properly, there is a handwritten note at the bottom, inviting you to send more, to try again. People have been known to persist for another five years, just on those letters, and a literary magazine that can’t be bothered to encourage pretty good writers to become better should find another way of doing business.
Hurrah! I love her so much. What an absolutely cool, brave thing to say.
A Few Moments
by Tomas Tranströmer
Translated by Robert Bly
myfanwy collins 