Further thoughts on monsters and terror.

The following serves as a brief and tangential addendum to the article I wrote that’s now – right this moment! – posted over at the wonderful Litreactor. Something I discuss a little is that the unnameable terror found in early twentieth century horror stories is applicable beyond the narrow confines of its genre. That’s not…

Alasdair Gray: Three Things To Love

1) Books as Beautiful Artefacts For those who lament the possible death of printed novels, look to Alasdair Gray. There’s no one who makes owning books such a worthwhile enterprise. On occasion, I take my copy of Lanark down to just look over his drawings and illustrations.  Each work is a thing of beauty, his…

Jonathan Franzen vs. the Future

Jonathan Franzen and I have something in common: we like books. We do differ in some ways. I’ve never read Franzen’s novels. Actually he hasn’t either, but writing them probably grants him some say. Probably. Still, arrogant as I may seem, Franzen is far more egregious: “The technology I like is the American paperback edition…

Pynchon: An Imagined & Failed Biography

From a chain of pilgrim milk, Pynchon was born. That is to say, Pynchon’s ancestors heaved onto Massachusetts soil in 1630, and from said landing did a combustion of genes and chance result in Thomas Ruggles Pynchon (that is his real middle name, and if I were friends with him, I’d ask if I could…