I was a Fellow at the Royal College of Art in London, where I taught writing. I always admired the imagination, courage, and essential obstinacy of my students. What I like is that if you are a visual artist and you take no risks at all, you are nothing, you are irrelevant—you might as well just chalk up imitations of old masters on the side walk and hope a few kind people throw coins in to your upturned hat. It would be exciting if this kind of daring and curiosity were valued in mainstream literature too. Is it possible that we are only now becoming contemporaries of James Joyce? Does it matter?
Deborah Levy (via)
Margaret Atwood, “Abstract painting created by a polar bear clawing its way through an empty building,” Nunavik

Margaret Atwood, “Abstract painting created by a polar bear clawing its way through an empty building,” Nunavik

Whale Fall, from the film Code Black

Germany 'may revert to typewriters' to counter hi-tech espionage | theguardian.com

According to German media, revelations about digital surveillance have triggered a fundamental rethink about how the government conducts its communications. “Above all, people are trying to stay away from technology whenever they can”, wrote Die Welt.

"Those concerned talk less on the phone, prefer to meet in person. More coffees are being drunk and lunches eaten together. Even the walk in the park is increasingly enjoying a revival".

Lara Paulussen (via)

Lara Paulussen (via)

I wish American writers in general were less anti-intellectual, more interested in the interior life and exterior systems of power. I don’t come from a subculture that had much in the way of an intellectual tradition at all. My people believed there was only one answer to every question, and after that you stopped thinking. I’ve been leaning hard on a couple of generations of postwar American writers of various Jewish ancestries—Saul Bellow, Cynthia Ozick, Philip Roth, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Bernard Malamud among them. They set the stakes sky-high, they never stopped with the insistent questions, they weren’t afraid to be wrong, and if sometimes they were, it’s only evidence of their fearlessness. At least they were braving the conversation.
Kyle Minor @ PEN Ten

[[insert metaphor here]]

The Quietus | Down By La Jetée: Lee Rourke Interviewed

There is a thing that Tom McCarthy the novelist says. Writers now, because literature is pretty much dead – and it is pretty much dead, which is no bad thing, and not just because of technology and the internet, it’s because culture is different now: it is a visual culture and literature isn’t the thing we turn to. He says all that writers now, unless they want to repeat what has been written formally and stylistically, have got to be a) an anthropologist and b) an archaeologist. You’ve got to study the cultures around each layer of literary history, but you’ve also got to scrape away, looking for that perfect pristine piece of bone. That’s kind of what I aspire to do. Vulgar Things is a kind of work of archaeology in that sense. I am scraping back the traces of this area, of the stories I’ve used to create it. That’s basically what the novelist’s job is now, writers like Tom McCarthy would argue. I think to me that’s far more exciting than trying to be an original literary hero. There’s so much more fun in excavating the dead carcases of literature past.

All your favorite cliché author photo poses, recreated by bears

All your favorite cliché author photo poses, recreated by bears

(Source: unamusedsloth.com)

Himself sat in the chair by the fire. Increasingly.

Nightly he read the paper, remarked abstractedly that nothing was worth anything. Everything pointed to the fact that every young fella and girl had a degree and at one time it was worth something, but these days… Silence. You can see by it, when a man can’t get a fair price for his cattle, you know something has gone off. It’s not gone away off in isolation. Everything, everything is lost once a fella can’t sell his cow for a fair price.

An unconscious look about him, like he was in another place, shouting back in the distance after cars that had run over him.
Anakana SchofieldMalarky