Hello Madrid

  One aspect of my philistinism is a lack of rapport with poetry. (Apart, I suppose, from an increasingly temperamental and tonsorial inclination toward Philip Larkin.) I mostly don’t get it.   So I was surprised to like very much Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner. It’s the story of a young man struggling to write poetry […]

Macabre Revisited

A colleague whom I like and otherwise respect recently told me she’d attended a concert by [surpassingly detestable band*]. I declared this band “macabre.” Puzzled, she asked if I meant “maudlin.” Nope. I meant “macabre” as said by Anthony Blanche. That’s the epithet he uses to damn, and it indisputably deserves broader currency. If you don’t know who […]