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kennychaffin@diasp.org
Kenny Chaffin

Indeed, Oates seems to spare very few fucks for those who might wish to see her pilloried in the court of public (or at least parasocial) opinion. She tweets about anything and everything—Sharia Law, her dislike of the latest Spielberg movie, cute cat videos—with an abandon that borders on libertine.

https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/books/a44463566/joyce-carol-oates-profile/

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At Home With Joyce Carol Oates

The Dark Lady of Letters invited Esquire to her New Jersey home, where she sounded off on feminism, artificial intelligence, Twitter, the future of reading, the 'Succession' finale, her writing routine, and much more.

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kennychaffin@diasp.org
Kenny Chaffin

Songwriter Jason Isbell, who’s talked before about his reverence for the Tennessee-bred author, might have said it best: “How many of us did he influence? Immeasurable. I could go onstage and say ‘this next one was influenced by Cormac McCarthy’ and literally sing any song I’ve ever written.”

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/cormac-mccarthy-influence-on-songwriting-jason-isbell-bruce-springsteen-1234782486/

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Love the Songwriting of Jason Isbell and Robert Earl Keen? Credit Cormac McCarthy

The No Country for Old Men author, who died last month at 89, lit a fire in the belly of some of the greatest American songwriters

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kennychaffin@diasp.org
Kenny Chaffin

Yes, very much this

Robert Macfarlane: ‘He listened harder to prose than anyone since Melville’
British writer and fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge

Among the thousand things I could praise in McCarthy’s astonishing body of work – written over 60 years – I want to speak of his prose rhythms. His books proclaimed themselves in the mind’s ear, setting it thrumming and rumbling, piercing it with cries. He listened harder to prose, and thought more about its prosody, than anyone since Melville. He first outgrew, then radically exceeded, the dying falls of Faulkner’s cadences. His phrasing could be great page-long peals of thunder (the attack of the Comanches in the fourth chapter of Blood Meridian, say), wire-bright flashes of lightning (“The stars burned with a lidless fixity”), anaphoras that came to act as refrains across whole books (“They rode on”; “They walked on”), right down to the tender “OK” which is passed back and forth between father and son in The Road. The most important word in McCarthy’s lexicon was perhaps the least conspicuous: “and”. That little conjunction paratactically strung together the atrocious and the mundane, the ultra-violent and the kind. Morally, it had a similar power to the desert light that McCarthy describes as falling with “strange equality” upon “all phenomena”. Historiographically, it enacted McCarthy’s bleak view of human history: repetition, recursion, the illusion of progress, the endless beats of a death-drum sounded in the dark backward and abysm of time.

Cormac McCarthy remembered: ‘His work will sing down the centuries’

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jun/14/cormac-mccarthy-remembered-his-work-will-sing-down-the-centuries

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