Another out-of-state teaching gig on the horizon, another giant snowstorm in the forecast . . . Sigh.
My anthology sujet du jour is Ezra Pound, also known as Not My Main Man, but one can hardly ignore his insidious influence. Simultaneously I'm attempting to read David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. DFW is also Not My Main Man, a declaration that will probably garner me a viperish comment-retort from some anonymous DFW acolyte. Even my husband has announced that Infinite Jest is one of the best books ever written, so something is clearly wrong with my acumen. But you know what? I cannot stand snide as a literary device. I just can't. Also I can do without the hysterically cumulative pop-culture details a la Thomas Pynchon. A little of that goes a long way. Take a lesson from the Ramones, boys.