arendtheader

Posts Tagged ‘venerability “Joan Silber”’

You have to give the people what they want.

Sunday, December 9th, 2007

Somewhere in Brooklyn, n+1 editor Keith Gessen was writing a note to the Orthodox Jewish lawyer whose taillight he had smashed while returning the Budget rent-a-truck in which he had retrieved Issue 6 from the printers’ warehouse—a fine illustration of the go-to, D-list spirit, by the way, because you don’t need me to tell you that Jann Wenner isn’t driving to Pennsylvania twice a week to pick up the new Rolling Stone. Meanwhile, on the West Coast, the n+1 panel discussion continued to generate interesting controversies and exciting revelations, including the disclosure that the tall mysterious man in the black dress, whose early departure had captivated the imagination of so many audience members (see previous post), was actually the D.J. for Saturday’s n+1 party.

All too often, as a writer, one never learns the identity or motivations of the various striking figures who leave early during one’s readings. Why did they come? Why did they leave? Where are they going? It all just finds its way onto the list of “life’s little mysteries.” (more…)

Awards reception, venerability, shoes

Wednesday, November 7th, 2007

The awards ceremony for the Rona Jaffe award was held on September 27 at the Lotos Club in New York, not to be confused with the Lotos Club in Prague (“If you have enough money come and you will not be disappointed”). There was an open bar. The novelist Joan Silber gave an interesting speech about “venerability,” and then I think somebody played the saxophone.

I was really happy to meet the other five emerging women writers: Sarah Braunstein, Alma García, Robin Ekiss, Jennifer Grotz, and Holly Goddard Jones. Here is a picture of us (with Joan Silber), all wearing black, as befits the somber brides of Literature. 2007ronajaffewinners1.JPG

The shoes I wore to this event (not pictured) were purchased in Boston on the day after Slobodan Milošević was elected President of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Now Milošević is dead, and Yugoslavia no longer exists, but I still wear those shoes.

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