In our afternoon reading: nonfiction by Deborah Levy, thoughts on summer movies, and more.
Morning Bites: S.J. Naudé’s Playlist, Rachel Kushner on Fiction, Squarepusher Reissued, and More
In our morning reading: a “Fathers and Fugitives” playlist, an interview with Rachel Kushner, and more.
Afternoon Bites: Jami Attenberg Interviewed, Book Vending Machines, “Lost” Revisited, and More
In our afternoon reading: an interview with Jami Attenberg, news of a book vending machine, and more.
VCO: Chapter 36
Chapter 36
All black tents and black chairs.
Rain.
While the list of attendees was large in size and scope, it was a complete secret to anyone not invited. There was no media coverage whatsoever. The founders of every major publishing platform on the planet came in droves in total silence. The forest surrounding the estate was ghostlike, veiled in a hissing mist.
Morning Bites: Henry Hoke Interviewed, A.V. Marraccini’s Essays, John Cale Reissued, and More
In our morning reading: an interview with Henry Hoke, news of a John Cale reissue, and more.
Afternoon Bites: Helen Phillips on Writing, Michele Mari’s Fiction, Revisiting Boris Vian, and More
In our afternoon reading: an interview with Helen Phillips, thoughts on MJ Lenderman’s new album, and more.
Time Is What Keeps the Light from Reaching Us
Time Is What Keeps the Light from Reaching Us
by Aaron Carico
I fill this room with the echo of many voices. The sun comes and floods this empty room, I call it my room.
I listen to your voice, David. Onscreen, you’re wearing a Ronald Reagan mask made of latex, like the ones from Point Break, and you’re looking at photos of Mark Morrisroe, one of him splayed on a bed, hard cock against his thigh, a twink pinup. “Mortality no longer feels like some abstraction I can push away to the age of eighty or ninety or whatever. There’s no longer a luxury of pushing the idea of mortality away.” You’re walking around Witnesses: Against Our Vanishing. It’s fall 1989. Morrisroe died that July. You unfasten the mask, take it off, and you read the scrim of text that covers your own photos of Peter Hujar’s corpse. Your words shield your lover’s dead body. Peter had died almost exactly two years before. Your voice is propulsive, a juggernaut. It vibrates with fury.
Selections From Manu Larcenet’s Adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road”
Today, we’re pleased to present an excerpt from Manu Larcenet’s graphic novel adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Its path to publication was somewhat unorthodox: Larcenet, a winner of multiple awards at the Angoulême International Comics Festival over the years, wrote to McCarthy seeking his approval for the project. (It worked.)
“I loved The Road for the atmosphere it creates. Most likely because I enjoy drawing the snow, the chilling winds, the dark clouds, the sizzling rain, tangles and snags, rust, and the damp and the humidity,” Larcenet wrote. I draw violence and kindness, wild animals, dirty skin, pits, and stagnant water. I enjoy the contrast between the characters and their environment, and as conceited as it may sound, I feel like I’m up to the task.”