Over at Vice, actual pages from Vladimir Nabokov’s screenplay for Lolita are on display, including a wonderful scene that didn’t make it into the movie.
…she was killed by a bolt of lightning during a picnic on my fourth birthday, high in the Maritime Alps.
A Mountain Meadow–A thunderhead advancing above sharp cliffs
Several people scramble for shelter, and the first big drops of rain strike the zinc of a lunchbox. As the poor lady in white runs toward the pavilion of a lookout, a blast of livid light fells her. Her graceful specter floats up above the black cliffs holding a parasol and blowing kisses to her husband and child who stand below, looking up, hand in hand.
Plus, you know, stuff about Kubrick. More.
What if you’d written a novel and then, years later, Stephen King wrote a book with the same title, and you suddenly found yourself awash in King-like royalties? Emily Schultz, the author of Joyland, found herself in that situation when Stephen King released his own novel named Joyland as a print-only title.
King has now responded to the mix-up, telling Entertainment Weekly “I’m delighted for her, and I’m going to order her book”. King, writes Schultz on Twitter, is “wonderful”.
Stephen King isn’t just one of our best, most prolific, and most influential writers. He’s also a really cool dude. More at The Guardian.
Have you read Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch? Was it highfalutin enough for you? For some publications, like the august New York Times, it hit the mark. But there are more discerning people than that out in literary land defending us all from literature-as-entertainment. (Ew! Entertainment!) Vanity Fair‘s Evgenia Peretz airs out the laundry. Can’t we all get along?
Indeed, we might ask the snobs, What’s the big deal? Can’t we all just agree that it’s great she spent all this time writing a big enjoyable book and move on? No, we cannot, say the stalwarts.
More at Vanity Fair.
John Fante’s writing career spanned half of the twentieth century. His brilliance was that he wrote in a way that was unfussy and so bluntly honest that some sentences, as unfussy as they were, cut you right to the bone. Ask the Dust, Wait Until Spring Bandini, The Brotherhood of the Grape… all of these books were highly personal, spellbinding and unsparing. Bukowski relaunched Fante’s career late in life, after Fante went blind for fuck’s sake.
More about this over at our favorite website Dangerous Minds.
Let’s say you’ve got out your “Heroes of the 1970’s” action figurines and you’re playing with them atop your desk at work. How often would you team up Kurt Vonnegut and Alice Cooper… you know, to have them duke it out with Nixon and Ehrlichman?
Over at Dangerous Minds, we get to imagine Alice Cooper and Kurt Vonnegut meeting for reals, cuz it really did happen. Holy shit!
Our correspondent Joseph Hirsch has a guest post over at Hardboiled Wonderland, giving a little love to a Stephen King-penned novel called Rage.
My own personal favorite King book, and the subject of this post, is Rage. To use an analogy, if one reads Salem’s Lot or The Shining, they are reading the literary equivalent of latter-day Scorsese, say when he made Casino or Bringing out the Dead. These works are very good, to be sure, but they are missing that enfant terrible quality. Rage is the literary equivalent of Taxi Driver. It is the angry, violent work of a young man.
More over at Hardboiled Wonderland.
Over at the Guardian, Damien Walter makes the case for reading franchise novels in a specific sci fi canon…
What franchise novels can certainly do well is compelling storytelling. And at their best, they can do it much better than the franchises that spawned them. Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire introduces the malevolent Grand Admiral Thrawn to the extended Star Wars universe, where he remains hands-down its best antagonist.
while simultaneously making the case for writing them…
The big names of franchise writing such as Peter David and Alan Dean Foster may struggle to command much literary respect, but with more than 20 million books sold worldwide, Kevin J Anderson can respond to critics of his Dune prequels while sucking on a stogie rolled from thousand-dollar bills.
More at the Guardian.
Frequent contributor to Paragraph Line Joseph Hirsch wrote a great piece about Eddie Little for Up and Down These Mean Streets. Little was a career criminal who could write well “…unlike say, James Ellroy or Elmore Leonard, who had to rely more on imagination than experience when it came to telling their tales.”
Read more at http://www.donherron.com/?p=6435
Joey has written some terrific crime novels himself, including Ohio At Dusk, Rolling Country and the forthcoming Flash Blood. He has also written a book that should be a science fiction cult novel, The Last Slice of Pizza.
The Guardian on the lives of British mid-list authors, who used to be able to make a living writing, and since 2008… have struggled. “Welcome poverty! Welcome misery, welcome houselessness, welcome hunger, rags, tempest, and beggary! Mutual confidence will sustain us to the end!”
How could I not post a link to the arrest of Cormac McCarthy’s ex pulling a gun out of her vagina and threatening to shoot her boyfriend after an argument about UFOs? If this story involved NyQuil or Kale, I’d have five in a row on my Konrath bingo card.
Novelist’s Ex In Bizarre Handgun Threat Arrest | The Smoking Gun.