theparisreview:

“Silly Putty can’t really be called a major casualty in this overhaul, but it is something that will be decisively rendered extinct. It’s a retro toy now—if you can even call something which was so obviously the byproduct of industrial experimentation a “toy”—but with the death of the newspaper, one of its primary functions (if you can call it a function) will be nullified.”
Sadie Stein on the small casualties of the struggling industry.

theparisreview:

“Silly Putty can’t really be called a major casualty in this overhaul, but it is something that will be decisively rendered extinct. It’s a retro toy now—if you can even call something which was so obviously the byproduct of industrial experimentation a “toy”—but with the death of the newspaper, one of its primary functions (if you can call it a function) will be nullified.”

Sadie Stein on the small casualties of the struggling industry.

"But there are pleasures to be had from books beyond being lightly entertained. There is the pleasure of being challenged; the pleasure of feeling one’s range and capacities expanding; the pleasure of entering into an unfamiliar world, and being led into empathy with a consciousness very different from one’s own; the pleasure of knowing what others have already thought it worth knowing, and entering a larger conversation."

The Pleasure of Reading to Impress Yourself - The New Yorker

Yayy literature!

(via nationalbook)

(via nationalbook)

"The greatest lie ever told about love is that it sets you free."

— Zadie Smith, On Beauty (via larmoyante)

(via ameliaaabedeliaaa)

"I find writing, and sharing my work, for others to be a problematic endeavor, something I’ve had to reconsider these last three years when my words started to be published, disseminated, and, in many ways, transformed into something unforeseen. Releasing creative work into the world means it’s no longer yours; it is open to interpretation and criticism. Fiction comes with its own ready-made explanation: it’s fiction, which is to say, it didn’t happen. The reader/commenter then has to shrug his shoulders and accept the explanation. Sharing my fiction is hardly an issue. It is nonfiction, specifically the personal essay, that has gotten me into trouble."

From my debut column with Fourculture Magazine, on the perils of being a personal essayist. (via mensahdemary)

theparisreview:

“Can we incorporate and treasure and be nourished by that which we do not understand? Of course.”
Read Joy Williams’s Art of Fiction interview, now online in its entirety.
Pictured: Williams, with husband Rust Hills in Sagaponack, New York, ca. 1977.

Oooo, love Joy Williams. She wrote the preface to The Collected Works of Jane Bowles, which I’m currently reading.

theparisreview:

“Can we incorporate and treasure and be nourished by that which we do not understand? Of course.”

Read Joy Williams’s Art of Fiction interview, now online in its entirety.

Pictured: Williams, with husband Rust Hills in Sagaponack, New York, ca. 1977.

Oooo, love Joy Williams. She wrote the preface to The Collected Works of Jane Bowles, which I’m currently reading.

"She often made important decisions this way, as if some prearranged plot were being suddenly revealed to her, a plot which had immediately to be concealed from the eyes of others, because for Sadie, if there was any problem implicit in making a decision, it lay, not in the difficulty of choosing, but in the concealment of her choice. To her, secrecy was the real absolution from guilt, so automatically she protected all of her deepest feelings from the eyes of Evy, Bert Hoffer and the other members of the family, although she had no interest in understanding or examining these herself."

— "Camp Cataract" by Jane Bowles

mensahdemary:

North New Jersey, the immediate region outside Manhattan’s skyline, is industrial, depressive, and idyllic for mass graves. Flat land trashed by freight cars and construction equipment parked for reasons—practical reasons—beyond expansion or development. Factories and the occasional smokestack. A…

"The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn’t care if you are a white person who likes black people; it’s still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don’t look like you. Yes, racism looks like hate, but hate is just one manifestation. Privilege is another. Access is another. Ignorance is another. Apathy is another. And so on. So while I agree with people who say no one is born racist, it remains a powerful system that we’re immediately born into. It’s like being born into air: you take it in as soon as you breathe. It’s not a cold that you can get over. There is no anti-racist certification class. It’s a set of socioeconomic traps and cultural values that are fired up every time we interact with the world. It is a thing you have to keep scooping out of the boat of your life to keep from drowning in it. I know it’s hard work, but it’s the price you pay for owning everything."

Scott Woods (X)

he motherfucking dropped the truth.

(via mesmerisme)

THAT’S THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR OWNING EVERYTHING

(via queerfabulousmermaid)

this is a super important explanation to think about whenever you feel like telling someone that something isn’t racist because you don’t hate x person.

(via robotsandfrippary)

(Source: luvyourselfsomeesteem, via thebicker)