“Such are the perfections of fiction...Everything it teaches is useless insofar as structuring your life: you can’t prop up anything with fiction. It, in fact, teaches you just that. That in order to attempt to employ its specific wisdom is a sign of madness...There is more profit in an hour’s talk with Billy Graham than in a reading of Joyce. Graham might conceivably make you sick, so that you might move, go somewhere to get well. But Joyce just sends you out into the street, where the world goes on, solid as a bus. If you met Joyce and said 'Help me,' he’d hand you a copy of Finnegans Wake. You could both cry.” – Gilbert Sorrentino, Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things


Thursday, December 30, 2010

On Pseudo-Hiatus

Just a quick note for anyone who's noticed the lack of posts on this blog over the last few weeks: I'm taking a break from the blog until the end of January when my Triple R reviews will resume (unless, for whatever reason, I decide to post something in the interim). I have been reading away, trying to get through some books from 2010 that I missed along the way, so you can expect reviews of some or most of the following next year: Gert Jonke's The Distant Sound, Jenny Erpenbeck's Visitation, Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad, Evan Dara's The Easy Chain, and a 'classic' novel--Henry Green's Loving. Oh, and happy new year and all of that.
Posted by Emmett Stinson at 11:38 AM

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