“At least half of your mind is always thinking, I’ll be leaving; this won’t last. It’s a good Buddhist attitude. It prepares you for life as a Buddhist. If I were a Buddhist, this would be a great help. As it is, I’m just sad.”—Anne Carson, in her interview with the Paris Review.
What is the absolute max number of pages possible to print in a P-O-D title on the Espresso machine? I ask because I expect by the time my blog SUMMER OF MEGADETH reaches one year we will have cracked 20,000 posts and I am just trying to figure out if I will have to split the PDF that I submit for the unabridged SUMMER OF MEGADETH: YEAR 1 book into multiple documents or if it is possible to print a 20,000+ page book. Either way could you please let me know what kind of parameters I am working with here? Thanks so much! Can't wait to work on this project with you. XOXO, THE SUMMER OF MEGADETH METALTORIAL TEAM!!!!!
800 pages max = 25 posts/page. Get formatting, sir(s).
I saw your Internation Day of Bookshop post, and would like to share our bookstore's tumblr with you. We just started it a few weeks ago, but plan to be very active with cool items that come in the store and events we have planned.
Dubus slows again, then stops. He points past me, out the shotgun window. ‘See the big pine tree, that big evergreen?’ he says. He’s showing me his father’s grave. He considers getting out of the car, walking me over to it; but the snow’s too deep, there’s no path in. ‘See?’ he says. There it is, underneath a bough weighed with snow, a black stone that marks the place where Dubus, his brother, and a good friend dug the hole and placed their dad into the earth in the coffin the brothers built themselves. ‘The coffin was a simple pine box with a domed lid and it took Jeb and me all night to build,’ he writes in Townie.
We sit in quiet. I watch my voice recorder count 48 seconds of silence. Snow falls off a close tree, a heap first, absorbed into the ground, then a slow dusting down. Two cars pass by.
I'm reading Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale and hit a passage on my commute this morning that made me laugh out loud. The book is a love letter to New York, sustained over 700+ pages, that's most impressive in its communication of the city's minor sort of quirks. Details that we all notice on the daily with a "Hmmph" then forget about seconds later. It's an especially great read during the waning winter doldrums, so I thought I would share: http://gumplr.tumblr.com/post/3036122451/cashcats-ella-amanda-we-did-it
Your mention of Between the Acts (my favorite Woolf novel) is only my latest reason to love shopping at McNally Jackson. Also, Revolutionary Road (Yates) might fit the anon's requirements. Y'all are the best!
Yes! Good thinking, meganlives. Anonymous, for you.
What are your favorite out of print novels? I feel perhaps you addressed this already/recently, but I can't find where on this tumblr machine it might be. If your answer is Boston Adventure by Jean Stafford, we should get married. But seriously, I need some recommendations.
Perhaps related question: I love quiet domestic fiction that focuses very tightly on a specific few days or an otherwise restrained plot (Dorothy Baker's Cassandra at the Wedding, Evan Connell's The Collector and Double Honeymoon). Do you like anything like that; something anti-epic?
Well! Hrm. Renata Adler’s Speedboat is somehow unbelievably out of print. DFW was a big fan, Ed Park is a big fan. I’d also add Sam Lipsyte’s The Subject Steve, but that will be back in print on March 1st after a bunch of years of being out.
I’m not sure that all of them are out of print, but whenever I’m in a used bookstore, I look for the old Godine editions of Andre Dubus. (Not to be confused with his son, Andre Dubus—the third.) Though not novels—essays and stories, usually, but his novellas are unbeatable—his writing is restrained and domestic. He’s a favorite.
If you’re interested in authors with the last name Baker who are quiet and domestic and anti-epic, Nicholson Baker’s Box of Matches is maybe his quietest and most domestic. (This is where I admit to not having read either Dorothy Baker or Evan Connell.) William Maxwell’s So Long, See You Tomorrow is quiet and solid—even if it’s not exactly right for scratching this itch, it’s worth reading. VA Woolf comes to mind, but you probably knew that. Sometimes though people forget about Between the Acts: it’s got all the usual Woolfy greatness—English manor, one afternoon—but filled with profound foreboding: dread about World War II, but also it was her last novel before her suicide. If you’ve exhausted Woolf, have you read her friend and Bloomsbury-almoster (she was from New Zealand, how déclassé) Katherine Mansfield?
Despite his extremely ill-proportioned physique, Swinburne dreamt from early youth, and particularly after reading newspaper accounts of the charge at Balaclava, of joining a cavalry regiment and losing his life as a beau sabreur in some equally senseless battle. Even when he was a student at Oxford, this vision outshone any other conception he might have of his own future; and only when all hope of dying a hero’s death was gone, thanks to his underdeveloped body, did he devote himself unreservedly to literature and thus, perhaps, to a no less radical form of self-destruction.
What is the format that I will need to submit my blog in if I want to have it printed and bound on the Espresso machine? My blog is summerofmegadeth.tumblr.com and I would like to have the entire first year made into a book. Thanks!
You will need to convert the entire glog into two .pdf’s—one for the cover and one of the actual glogtent. Beyond that, I’m not exactly sure. Start here and then email email@example.com for details.
“Cole has made his novel as close to a diary as a novel can get, with room for reflection, autobiography, stasis, and repetition. This is extremely difficult, and many accomplished novelists would botch it, since a sure hand is needed to make the writer’s careful stitching look like a thread merely being followed for its own sake. Mysteriously, wonderfully, Cole does not botch it.”—That’s from James Wood’s review of Teju Cole’s Open City in the New Yorker—-Cole will be here tonight, talking to Vanity Fair's Andy Tepper about the book.
“I hate cheats. They cut the line and snatch the bargain. They sweet-talk the customer service rep into bending the rules. They count cards and win the raffle with some sneaky ticket placement. They are the 100th caller every time. They trick you on mileage or square footage and bribe their way up the organ transplant list. They pump and dump their stocks, their families, their friends. They get ahead and they win. We lose. Then they explain ever so condescendingly that it’s not a zero-sum game.”—Sam Lipsyte, on the Times’ Op-Ed page, writing about cheating and a new edition of Monopoly.
“A polished, thought-provoking, and original work of history that possesses all the finesse of literature.”—That’s Simon Van Booy on Deborah Lutz’s Pleasure Bound, our event tonight. Pretty much whatever Simon says (no pun, or something?), we do. The book is about Victorian sex rebels.