From the Barbaric Heart: Kakutani: Death Star

This is Part 2 of my hit job on the most important literary critic in these theoretically United States.  It’s somewhere between a rant and Old Testament prophecy.  Part 3, the down and dirty of it, next.

“What we don’t know is exactly what we need,

And what we know fulfills no need at all.”

Faust

I have seen… and

I have lived to see Janice and Big Brother playing at a college dance;

In Hayward!;

And I have seen the posters in the dark forest where I lost my way directing me to the Avalon Ballroom;

And I have befriended the Family Dog;

And I was invited by the Mothers of Invention to a Freak Out!;

And I went to the Avalon and I went to the Fillmore and I went to Winterland;

And I freaked out…just a little;

You know, my hair got “good in the back”;

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The Dominant, ctd.

Update: If a blog post can ever be said to be in honor of anyone, then consider this one in honor of Ruth Kligman. May she rest in peace.

In the comments section of my last post, Shya asked:

can someone write a truly romantic novel today? Or would it necessarily be a postmodern (or post-postmodern) exercise in romanticism?

I’d suspect that, even if we went back to Romantic Era, we’d have a hard time finding something “truly romantic.” As Pontius Pilate so insightfully asked Christ: Quid est veritas? (What is truth?)

So let’s leave aside truth for the moment, and try answering that question in a different way.

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