A post by Terry Pitts at his Vertigo blog.
A post from the National Book Critics Circle’s Critical Mass Blog.
"A discussion and reconsideration of William Gass’s landmark essay featuring Michael Gorra, Joshua Cohen, Stefanie Sobelle, Albert Mobilio, and Michael Stuhlbarg"
What a great looking event at The New York Institute for the Humanities.
Writer Brian A. Oard posts about Gass’ work, the “strangest and most unexpected oeuvre of his literary generation.”
Published at NPR’s website.
Published in The Guardian (thanks, BC).
In this interview with Daniel Sandstrom, Roth name checks a very long list of “formidable postwar writers,” Gass among them.
The NYR Blog offers a piece adapted from Gorra’s introduction to the new reissue of On Being Blue.
Ted Morrissey will edit an anthology of articles on the work of American author William H. Gass titled Critical Perspectives on William H. Gass: The Novellas with an anticipated release date in 2015. The long-range goal is to do a series of anthologies on Gass’s work with each book having a specific focus, and we’re starting with the author’s novellas.
Click through for the info.
At the Chicago Tribune, Michael Robbins nods to Gass (and Gaddis).
Fun D. T. Max post about David Foster Wallace and Bryan Garner:
A year later, in 2002, the two met for lunch at Biaggi’s, a Wallace haunt on Veterans Parkway in Bloomington. (Wallace brought his parents.) They exchanged book recommendations; Garner suggested the nineteenth-century critic and grammar authority Richard Grant White, while Wallace proffered his high-lit triad of DeLillo, Gass, and Gaddis. I reached the itinerant professor by phone the other day in a D.C. hotel room—he is on the road two hundred days a year with his Sisyphean mission—and he told me that he and Wallace hadn’t met again until the interview four years afterward, but that they had exchanged letters in the interim. They also each took pleasure in noting the other’s grammatical errors. “That’s the thing about usage,” Garner told me, in his careful way. “When you write copiously, we are all fallible.” He acknowledged that he had started the Gass novel that D.F.W. had recommended—he was not sure of the title—but had not finished it. Nor had he read “Infinite Jest.” “My impression is that it is a book that a lot of people start and don’t finish,” he said levelly. He added that Wallace knew, and didn’t mind. The friendship between the grammar-minded writer and the writing-minded grammarian was the sort that Wallace liked: close, but not too close.
Middle C makes it: “A beautiful cover by Gabriele Wilson, and so well-executed. I wish I’d seen more of Gabriele’s work this year.”
Gass practices an ancient art that is neither en vogue nor often attempted anymore — that of the great Jamesian sentence and the large idea. “Middle C,” which begins by focusing on a poor Christian family who claim they are Jews so they can be considered refugees, is a darkly funny tale of identity.