The French writer Édouard Louis recorded his days in New York, around the time of the American release of his novel The End of Eddy. The following entries originally appeared in French in the June 6, 2017, edition of Les Inrockuptibles.
Picture an area the size of Manhattan covered in sand. It rises and falls and disappears.
“There’s often a gap between what we’re trying to say and what we are able to say. Sometimes I’m successful and sometimes I fail. Sometimes it’s painful and sometimes I get into that space where it feels right. That’s the high.”
Rickie Vasquez is wondering if all you ever have to offer him are crumbs.
A modestly sized but nonetheless ambitious blend of catalog, monograph, and artist’s project, the book accompanies a touring exhibition of the same name which opened at the Contemporary Arts Center, New Orleans, in March 2016.
A bestiary of human proportions in Elena Passarello’s Animals Strike Curious Poses
I sat at the bar of the Zwiebelfisch in Berlin together with David Bell, the renowned Kant scholar; it happened to be one of his regular haunts and it was the only spot where we could have an undisturbed meeting whenever he was in Berlin.
Sarah Gerard’s essay collection, Sunshine State, embodies Florida’s unpredictability in the best sense.
On the day of POTUS 45’s inauguration, alt-right front man Richard Spencer was punched in the face during an interview for Australian television.
Resisting confession in Yiyun Li’s Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life
Deconstructing self-made myths in Melissa Febos’s Abandon Me
What I loved most about Klaus was his old-world elegance.
Frank O’Hara was asked by Gian Carlo Menotti to select the American poets for Settimana della Poesia at the Spoleto Festival of Two Worlds, June 26 through July 2, 1965.
“I’m glad that the work is still proving elusive enough to resist attempts to gather it all up in a critical hamper or net.”
“They own their own image. In a world where image is everything, that’s a very serious kind of ownership.”
“I am merely opening a dossier,” says Roland Barthes, again and again, throughout his three final seminars in Paris in the late seventies, each course posthumously converted to a book, each book divided into annotated weekly lectures, subsectioned into brief semi-independent scholia. More than lecture notes but short of sustained essay, each book is agile, esoteric, and unsynthesized, pivoting continually to consult yet another tangential text or discipline.
“Women in Denmark should be both women and men at the same time, but ‘men’ and ‘women’—what does that mean?”
“I’m not thinking about the market. I’m thinking about what I want to say.”