Yes, the road.

Yes, the road.
Eagle Nest, New Mexico. “People like to drive because driving is actually and symbolically an almost perfect mechanism for escape…there is probably no human being who does not have troubles, real or imagined, from which he at times feels the need to flee.” George R. Stewart.


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Brooklin, Maine, United States
We own a 1975 GMC Sierra Grande 15 in Maine and a 1986 Chevrolet Custom Deluxe 10 in West Texas. Also a pair of 1997 Volvo 850 wagons. Average age in the fleet is 28 years--we're recycling. I've published 3 novels: THE LAW OF DREAMS (2006), THE O'BRIENS (2012), and CARRY ME (2016). Also 2 short story collections: NIGHT DRIVING(1987) and TRAVELLING LIGHT (2013). More of my literary life is at I was a Fellow at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study for 2012-13. I'm an adjunct professor at Colorado College and in the MFA program at Queens University of Charlotte. In 2015-16 I was a Fellow at Harvard University's Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study. The Autoliterate office is in Car Talk Plaza in Harvard Square, 2 floors above Dewey Cheatem & Howe. SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUTOLITERATE DAILY EMAIL by hitting the button to the right.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

What I'm Reading Now

Posted more Montrèalicite here.
Especially John Lanchester's piece on toxic corruption in the banking system. I enjoyed Lanchester's novel, Capital.
One of the first great books on Weimar to be written in English. Also see  My German Question, Peter Gay's angry memoir of Germany in the 1930s.
How come there are so many Viagra ads in Hot Rod?
Karl May stays deep in the German subconscious. In the 1990s I was spending a lot of time on the Blood (Kai'Nai) and Peigan Reserves, in southern Alberta, and the most interested and involved outsiders tended to be German.  Have you ever been to Head-Smashed-In? There's probably a powwow there this week. Amazing. Amazing people. Southern Alberta is beautiful, that high plains country. Wind singing through fence-wire, that high lonesome sound the poet Larry Levis first noted in his Whitman. Ive heard wind sliding across the grassland in summer  with a sound like bedsheets tearing.

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