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Tag Archives: New Yorker

It’s like I just discovered him even though I’ve been reading him for a few years. I know.

Even more Lethem: “Super Goat Man.”

“Are you conscious of being in the wrong in relation to some other person—who need not necessarily be aware of it? If so, does this make you hate yourself—or the other person?”

Read more Lethem: “Lucky Alan.”

At six or seven hundred parts per million, the air in here is dreadful but sustains life. Regular jiggering of organic functions is needed to keep the ratio from ballooning to something deadly. To make a long story short, after an alarmingly high reading Mstislav discovered a mound of rotting mangrove fronds under a seemingly healthy hillock of wheatgrass—a camouflaged nightmare of poison-leaching compost. Endgame for us could be that simple, that foolish.

Read “Lostronaut” by Jonathan Lethem (a short story which has become part of Chronic City).

This, he thought, was the only way he wanted to live. All he needed to do, sometime soon, was sneak back into the house and get some of his things—his knives, blankets and glue and rope, maybe some of his mom’s matches. Then he would build a forest home, high in the trees, and become one with the woods and the animals, learn their languages and with them plot an overthrow of his home, beginning with the decapitation and devouring of Gary.

Read “Max At Sea” by Dave Eggers.