For your reading pleasure today, here’s a roundup of literary news I found floating around in the series of tubes that we call The Internets:
— So as not to be the only litblog in the world that hasn’t mentioned this, Nobel-laureate Gunter Grass, author of The Tin Drum has come out. As what? As a member of Hitler’s Waffen SS, that’s what. Grass has been called the “conscience of his generation” for his outspokenness on the need for Germany to own up to and reconcile with its past, so his incredibly late admission has caused quite a furor. UK’s Guardian has some extensive coverage of the issue here, here, here, here, and here. There. Consider it mentioned.
— Speaking of things that ought to be mentioned, the long list for this year’s Man Booker Prize has been announced. Due to apparent misogyny in The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs, Irvine Welsh is right out. I’m sure hipsters all over the world would be crushed, if hipsters could bring themselves to be crushed over anything, that is.
— Any Bukowski fans in the house? If so, then you’ll probably enjoy checking out this group of mp3s on Salon. Available for download are four poems and an interview for your listening enjoyment. Of course, since Salon is decidedly uncool, you’ll have to sit through an irritating ad to get to the recordings, but you can ease your pain by imaging Buk kicking their asses for putting up a damned commercial while you’re, uh, watching the damned commercial. In other news, the film version of Factotum is being released on Friday (though apparently it saw a European release last year).
— Apparently, George Bush likes Camus. (Betcha a million dollars he thinks it’s “came-us”.) For more on this, Maud Newton quotes Laila Lalami, who links to Ed Champion. Circles make me dizzy, and I like this theory best.
— Hamlet in a bouncy castle? Good idea, I say. Not as good as my idea of having a production of Antony and Cleopatra starring Kevin Federline and Britney Spears, but then, there are no ideas that are that good, so I’m willing to cut the organizers of Edinburgh’s Fringe festival some slack.
— And finally, where would we be without Photoshop? Someplace I’d not care to visit, that’s for sure. Now, you may say this is not literary, I give you permission, however I’d just counter with, so?