Nobody Likes To See A Stupid Guy

Reading Takes Time, And The Glass Teat Takes Too Much Of It.

Legends Grow Beards, And Twenty-three Years Is Plenty Of Time To Grow A Long One.

These Self-appointed Deacons In The Church Of Latter-day American Literature Seem To Regard Generosity (of Words) With Suspicion, Texture With Dislike, And Any Broad Literary Stroke With Outright Hate. The Result Is A Strange And Arid Literary Climate Where A Meaningless Little Fingernail Paring Like Nicholson Baker's Vox Becomes An Object Of Fascinated Debate And Dissection, And A Truly Ambitious American Novel Like Matthew's Heart Of The Country Is All But Ignored.

For," I Said, "a Murdered Man Or Woman Dies Not In God's Time, But In Man's. He... Or She... Is Cut Short Before He... Or She... Can Atone For Sin, And So All Errors Must Be Forgiven. When You Think Of It That Way, All Murderers Are A Gateway For Heaven.

You Know," Glen Bateman Said, Looking Out Toward Grand Junction In The Early Light Of Morning, "i've Heard The Saying 'that Sucks' For Years Without Really Being Sure Of What It Meant. Now I Think I Know.