Llllllllllllllet’s get ready for Unrequired Reading!
I inadvertently copied this post, because my research assistants didn’t label it properly. It’s your fault for expecting so much of me.
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Of course, the Nazi baseball team was from Boston.
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Barbie: now soulless-er!
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Ms. Ben-Day: Queen of Lichtenstein!
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I haven’t read the big Roger Ebert profile in Esquire yet, nor Ebert’s follow-up, but everyone says they’re both fantastic.
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I’ve also never seen Death Wish, but this is a pretty funny essay discussing the similarities between modernist architects and Bronson’s vigilante.
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Last week, I wrote about how I (we?) can’t read Salinger without looking for clues to his decision to go into seclusion. This week, I’m reading a collection of essays by David Foster Wallace, and it’s really difficult to read his stuff — even from 1994 or thereabouts — without looking for clues to his 2008 suicide. Good thing David Gates wrote about this after DFW’s demise in 2008.
