At a noted East Village bookshop with a deliriously good collection of literary magazines, I decided to wean myself from their pulpy lure [pulpy pap?--ed.] and go browse through the real literature. Perusing Fiction among the A's, I came across this sign: Auster is at the information desk. I moved slightly to my right, and found: Bukowski is at
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Like a Wharton character. So it's odd that I write you like Philip Roth doing Evelyn Waugh (no, not like that).
P.S. LiveJournal's spell checker suggests "longueur" for "longue."
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"Longue"? The OED says "Obs. form of LUNG." I must say I find your reference confusing. My little French dictionary suggests you are making obscure grammatical associations entirely too complex for my girlish mind. Surely you don't mean "chaise lounge"? Please, I beg of you your explanation.
Ever your faithful reader,
C.P.Rachele
P.S. Avi told his mother the other day (in a fit of scruffy-boy pique) that he was tired of living in a Philip Roth novel. Now she ends all her emails with, "I am not a stereotype. Love, your mother."
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And I think the character you're thinking of is in A of I, not H of M.
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Bukowski, however...do people actually believe they are reading amazing poetry when they read Bukowski? I've always found it average at best, save the occasional line here and there. Just because something is formatted like poetry does not make it poetry.
I have yet to warm up to James.
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I almost had him, too. But Paul Auster came between us.
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