Esquire just posted a list called “12 Authors Every Man Must Know.” With entries like Stephen King and Philip Roth, it was the most phoned-in list I’ve read recently…
Joyce Carol Oates
was eating hummus with one hand & holding my left tit with the other hand, then realized i had no hand to tweet with, thought about suicide
I have a friend who considers not owning books a major red flag and another who describes her ideal guy as “someone she can read in bed with on a Sunday.”
“Writing is a deep-sea dive. You need hours just to get into it: down, down, down.”
Joyce Carol Oates is queen of prolificacy. She released a collection of gothic horror stories, Give Me Your Heart, to tepid reviews (“there’s little doubt that Oates is a well-practiced storyteller. Too well practiced, perhaps,” wrote the Times Book Review).
For years, grown men have been allowed to act like teenagers, buying expensive, candy red sports cars, donning too much “bling” around their necks, in their ears and on their clothing, and abruptly announcing to their wives one day over cereal that they are leaving them for someone who is half their age because well, they feel like it.