When a mule offers you a book, you kinda have to read it.
Used find of the week. No question.
(I love how he is not writing anything!)
DOGS + PIPES = GOLD
Can you activate the comments? I want to
make a pithy statement.
—Our Vermont bookseller, Charles. (via northshiresaratoga)
It was a fitting marriage between Northshire Bookstore and Ann Patchett when the acclaimed author spoke in the ballroom of the Saratoga Hilton. The independent bookstore, which recently added a location in downtown Saratoga Springs, supports literary authors and encourages a love for reading, while Patchett herself co-owns Parnassus Books in Nashville, Tennessee, and spends much of her time advocating for the work of other writers.
It’s tempting to lay down Norman Mailer’s Advertisements for Myself for good when, after several hundred pages of self-regard, he reaches his masturbatory climax by reprinting a letter he once sent to Ernest Hemingway. In the span of nine lines (mysteriously formatted like poetry), Mailer goes from coyly soliciting Hemingway’s opinion of The Deer Park to threatening Papa with his wrath: “if you answer with the kind of crap you use to answer unprofessional writers, sycophants, brown-nosers, etc., then fuck you, and I will never attempt to communicate with you again.” But quitting at this point would mean giving up on a work of fascinating, if at times painful, intellectual narcissism that can now be seen for what it really was: the birth of America’s first reality star. —Graham Rogers