Kool & the Gang’s Something Special / “Amsterdam” by Gregory Alan Isakov / MisterWives’ Reflections and cover of Vance Joy’s “Riptide”
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
these enviously beautiful reading nooks / the Amtrak residency, which has just selected 24 writers for the debut of its program / “Short Story: A Process of Revision” by Antonya Nelson / the New Yorker article about the history of Wonder Woman / a 2010 article by Margaret Atwood on being a woman writer and the overlapping concepts
Well, it rained for about a day last week but the overcast skies have definitely convinced me that it’s sweater weather. I wish I could just cozy up and read a book, but of course, it’s a Monday and there’s work to be done. Here’s wishing everyone a productive week!
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It should probably come as no surprise (based on the diverse subject matter I post here) that I have a broad range of tastes when it comes to fiction. I enjoy strange narratives in unconventional forms, books that comment on culture and society, stories that are complex and not always easily understood. That being said, I’m sharing my ten favorite novels today (I left out Never Let Me Go and As I Lay Dying since I covered them recently).
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_____There are three things in New York I would have given anything to see—Simon and Garfunkel’s Concert in Central Park, Andy Warhol’s first solo exhibition, and Yayoi Kusama’s I Who Have Arrived in Heaven show at the David Zwirner Gallery. Though I wasn’t yet alive for the first two, the latter ended only last year amidst rave reviews and Instagram selfies, mostly concerning Kusama’s latest mirrored infinity room.
_____The room, titled The Souls of Millions of Light Years Away, glitters like a universe of its own. With reflective walls and floors, it is shrouded in darkness save for hundreds of twinkling lights. The installation comes face to face with death and the cosmos and the unknown and infinity. The lights seem endless, and in this art environment the concept seems visually ubiquitous and reasonable but is in truth vast and incomprehensible. It is so much of everything that it becomes nothing—for how can you possibly fathom infinity?
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