Novelistic Sloppiness

On my mind, this morning? Last night’s irritation: I had walked into McNally Jackson, my last (not least) favorite Manhattan bookshop, to browse new books & came upon Max Frisch’s Montauk (which I had reread twice in the last 6 months for a project I had been working on). Somewhat surprised that it had been reissued, I picked it up to see if their was any pressing reason for this. … Read more Novelistic Sloppiness

Ingeborg Bachmann: Nobody has the Right to Appeal to the Victim

Reading, thinking and writing about Ingeborg Bachmann right now, while also thinking about the victims of terror and the misuse they are put to, here in this country and in France as well. So this morning I came across a posthumous prose fragment of Bachmann’s which I’d read in the 4-volume collected but now met again, insistently, in Françoise Rétif’s lovely, excellent, challenging book-length essay on I.B. (Ingeborg Bachmann, Editions … Read more Ingeborg Bachmann: Nobody has the Right to Appeal to the Victim