Michel Houellebecq has been found.
So has a James M. Cain manuscript.
Neil Young is writing an autobiography.
So is Jermaine Jackson.
So is Julian Assange. But without his consent.
“If I say ‘David Bellos has to be one of the smartest people now on the planet,’ what language am I using? English of a kind; but scarcely the Queen’s, which—to judge from her public utterances—retains a careful insularity; mid-Atlantic schtick is not Her Majesty’s bag.”
The Sondheim-crossword mother lode.
Shakeups at DC Comics ...
But peace at the Poetry Society.
“The general editorial posture of the magazine leaned away from the conventions of the establishment and toward the eccentricities of bohemians everywhere.”
Salman Rushdie joins Twitter.
“Flaubert once bet some friends that he could make love to a woman, smoke a cigar, and write a letter at the same time. He won, as they looked on in admiration.”
These are beautiful, if we do say so ourselves.
A cultural news roundup.
Gustave Flaubert. Photograph by Nadar.