I know it goes against the grain of most in my circle, but–as you’ve probably heard on the podcast–I do not care for F. Scott Fitzgerald. Gatsby is the only one of his books I can even tolerate, but even though the it’s got a worthwhile message, he’s still just too whiny for me. But an anti-Gatsby novel? What’s that? Apparently it’s just more of the excess that I don’t want to read about. Still, getting called an “elegant wordsmith” in WaPo isn’t too shabby.
I just started a new job (hooray!) spending my summer working with kids on the Autism spectrum, so I’m a bit more attuned into this sort of thing currently than I might otherwise be, but I think this book of famous historical Americans with OCD sounds pretty fascinating. As a bonus, Kendall includes Ted Williams on his roster of OCD biographies, which tickles a small obsession of my own.
I’m totally on board with the whole post-apocalyptic fad (I still like zombie fiction too). Apocalyptic poetry sounds pretty forced though. However, I do like the definition Howell sets out with–”a literary genre informed by hallucination, grief, and a long view of history (primary concerns: the past, the present, and consequence)”–and the excerpts Ulin selects are intriguing enough to warrant a closer look.