Category Archives: Dreaming on Paper

Of the American diner Henry Miller wrote, “Everything is at its worst in this type of eating place.” We must allow Henry his verve, but need not accede to his accuracy. For if everything is at its worst at the … Continue reading →

I heard or was told by someone not long ago that John Cheever wrote the bulk of his short stories in the boiler room of a midtown office building, where he had contrived to set up a little office for … Continue reading →

The plot of Lolita, to the extent that one exists, is about the contest between poetry and prose, between style and substance. Hear me out on this. I’ll focus first on the book’s style, specifically those moments where author Nabokov, … Continue reading →

Like rock stars, some novels are eaten alive by their fans. Embraced by a severely circumscribed subculture, they turn from works of art into manifestoes, or worse, Bibles, and cease to be read by ordinary folk. Scottish-born Alexander Trocchi’s Cain’s … Continue reading →