Volume 16 Issue 12
Modern Fiction Is All Rubbish
Roger Lewis’ 2002 biography of Anthony Burgess polarised critics and his latest book, Seasonal Suicide Notes, is a diary-cum-memoir that made me laugh until I pissed myself on the 185 bus.
Besides writing hard-edged, blackly funny, and beautifully observed novels, Pete Dexter has spent a lot of time boxing, and he once got beaten so badly by an angry mob in Philadelphia that his back was broken.
I read the milk container while drinking orange juice out of the bottle, holding the refrigerator door open with my body. A better thing to read about while drinking orange juice would be oranges, or sunshine, or even lemons.
Robert Walser was underappreciated in his time and is still sort of a loosely kept secret today, passed around by writers and literature nerds like a test of how good one’s taste really is.