message archive reading list

Trapped in the amber of the moment

honeyforthehomeless:

jayarrarr:

honeyforthehomeless:

Remember stmccarthy? Because I do. He’s just released a collection of his poetry - and it’s an absolute gem, crude and humorous in all the right places, witty in others, contrasted with poems that have such a poignant spin on mundane occurrences that it will make you stop and think and wonder, and sometimes learn. 

It’s edited by tumblr champion Jayarrarr, so if that doesn’t speak to its quality, I don’t know what will. 

This is a collection that I have quite literally been waiting two years for - he is one of my absolute favourite poets, and when he left tumblr, I asked him for copies of his poems so I could create my own collection of his. I hand-wrote them into a notebook, and it was the only book of poetry I took with me to Europe (other than The People Look Like Flowers at Last, of course). 

Go. Buy it. Be amazed by his talent and his unique voice. You won’t regret it. 

I did indeed edit this book. So if you find a typo or absolutely anything out of whack, it’s not Steve’s fault — it’s mine. Having read it at least once, I recommend it highly.

Another reminder to buy this collection. I have now read it five times since receiving it yesterday, and it just continues to get better. It was worth my two-year wait. 

Peanuts

Peanuts

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

"I say this is a wild dream - but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before - consciously, willfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience."
Henry Miller, in a letter to Anais Nin 
Peanuts

Peanuts

"So what did Amalfitano’s students learn? They learned to recite aloud. They memorized the two or three poems that they loved most in order to remember them and recite them at the proper times: funerals, weddings, moments of solitude. They learned that a book was a labyrinth and a desert. That there was nothing more important than ceaseless reading and traveling, perhaps one and the same thing. That when books were read, writers were released from the souls of stones, which is where they went to live after they died, and they moved into the souls of readers as if into a soft prison cell, a cell that later swelled to burst. That all writing systems are frauds. That true poetry resides between the abyss and misfortune and that the grand highway of selfless acts, of the elegance of eyes and the fate of Marcabru, passes near its abode. That the main lesson of literature was courage, a rare courage like a stone well in the middle of a lake district, like a whirlwind and a mirror. That reading wasn’t more comfortable than writing. That by reading one learned to question and remember. That memory was love."
Robert Bolano, Woes of the True Policeman 
Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

Remember stmccarthy? Because I do. He’s just released a collection of his poetry - and it’s an absolute gem, crude and humorous in all the right places, witty in others, contrasted with poems that have such a poignant spin on mundane occurrences that it will make you stop and think and wonder, and sometimes learn. 

It’s edited by tumblr champion Jayarrarr, so if that doesn’t speak to its quality, I don’t know what will. 

This is a collection that I have quite literally been waiting two years for - he is one of my absolute favourite poets, and when he left tumblr, I asked him for copies of his poems so I could create my own collection of his. I hand-wrote them into a notebook, and it was the only book of poetry I took with me to Europe (other than The People Look Like Flowers at Last, of course). 

Go. Buy it. Be amazed by his talent and his unique voice. You won’t regret it. 

Updated reading list…

This one is roughly since the start of the summer. I say roughly, because a few from the old list may have snuck in. I’m getting forgetful about when I read things in my old age. 

Recommendations: Philip Roth’s “The Counterlife” and Roberto Bolano’s “The Savage Detectives”. The Counterlife seems tedious until the ending - I believe Martin Amis referred to it as the greatest postmodern novel of all time, and the ending deserves that praise. But Bolano is a beautiful writer, and one of my favourite recent obsessions. Savage Detectives also has a beautifully postmodern ending.

Also, for the award of funniest book I’ve read in a very long time: Shalom Auslander’s “Foreskin’s Lament”. If you’re not scared away by the title, track down a copy. Or find me somewhere. I bought an extra copy for the sole purpose of forcing it upon people. 

Old obsessions: House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski, Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller, The People Look Like Flowers at Last by Charles Bukowski, Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.

As always, recommendations are much appreciated

Read More

Peanuts

Peanuts

"…I saw our struggles and dreams all tangled up in the same failure, and that failure was called joy."
Roberto Bolano, The Savage Detectives
Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

"The greatest source of misery in the world, the greatest cause of anguish and hatred and sadness and death, was neither disease nor race nor religion. It was hope."
Shalom Auslander, Hope: A Tragedy
Peanuts

Peanuts

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski