In reality, Dreiser went looking, searching, and I can’t say if he found what he was looking for in a woman. He had so many, one wonders if his search proved somewhat futile.
Do authors still care what readers think? Are they writing for an audience? Is this “novel writing business” still about entertainment? I guess. Whatever. Consider me entertained, just make it Cormac McCarthy dark. If I ever meet the man, I’ll thank him for his contributions to the literary canon and like Mr. Franzen remind him it’s not his fault Oprah picked him.
Fernand and Hélène are lovers in Algiers during the Algerian War for Independence (1954-62). When Fernand plants a bomb in the factory where he works, he is quickly arrested, tortured, and sentenced to death.
Greenwood by Canadian writer Michael Christie speaks and sings with a clear voice that never fails its author.
Wilde, who shines on every page he inhabits, wasn’t as modern as he thought he was. Foppish writer Count Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac wasn’t as talented as he thought he was. More people now read Wilde in a day than have read Montesquiou in a century.