In Defense of Difficult Books
Difficulty is not a tax the reader pays; sometimes it is the content itself. Against the frictionless book, and the review culture that demands it.
Longer pieces: arguments, appreciations, and attempts.
Difficulty is not a tax the reader pays; sometimes it is the content itself. Against the frictionless book, and the review culture that demands it.
A shoebox of unsent letters, 1991 to 2009. On the strange genre of the letter written to be finished rather than mailed.
For Margaret, Christmas 1974 — who was Margaret, and why did she give the book away? An essay on the messages that outlive their occasions.
A sentence needs commas and a day needs walks. On the ambulatory semicolon: the walk that joins two unrelated thoughts and makes them a paragraph.
Two translations of the same Russian sentence sit on my desk, and they do not agree about the weather. On the impossible, necessary art.
Speed was never the point. A defense of the fifteen-page evening, the paragraph read twice, and the book that takes a season.
The card catalog at the Rochambeau branch knew things about my neighborhood that no database has learned since.
The feed has no last page, and that is the whole design. On endings as a form of respect, and why I want my reading to run out.
Eleven years of turning the sign to CLOSED. What a used bookstore sounds like in its last half hour, and what the register tape never recorded.
A pencil, a paperback, and the argument for talking back to books. On the long conversation a reader carries on in the white space at the edge of the page.