“Fourth of July Creek,” by Smith Henderson (Ecco)After the divorce I lived in a guest house, which was perfect because it belonged to someone else, was filled with someone else’s books containing someone else’s lovelorn inscriptions (Did you ever really love me, or were you just coming down? -Scottie), and also because I never felt alone; glass doors spanned the wide back of the main house, so that I only had to look up from my desk to see Tucker and Liza moving around inside the house, carrying cups of coffee, he shirtless and she in her underwear, their bodies bronzed and fit in the way of rich people with plenty of leisure time.
It was a sexy property, big languorous oaks overhanging the deck, dropping acorns into the Jacuzzi, outdoor speakers piping jazz and trance music through the yard all day and into the night; even the guest house was furnished like an opium den, the furniture built for snorting coke or screwing, and though at first I had wanted to live like a monk, gradually the place began to transform me, so that one night around Christmas, when I saw the globes of Tucker’s ass working as he fucked a woman who wasn’t Liza on the silver couch of their living room, I walked down the pathway toward the house and sat in the hanging rattan chair to watch, the turquoise pool glittering like a jewel, the Louisiana night mild and green-smelling, Snow Miser and Heat Miser dueling, unwatched, on the television behind them.
Keija Parssinen is the author of the novels “The Unraveling of Mercy Louis” (forthcoming, March 2015) and “The Ruins of Us”
Smith Henderson’s “Fourth of July Creek” arrived at my house in galleys. I read it, loved it, and immediately wanted to share it with my students. The publisher sent more galleys. We all read and adored (and were jealous of, let’s be honest, we’re writers) the book for its humor, psychological smarts, deft thriller-type plot moves, tremendously well-rendered western landscape, and perhaps most of all, its flawed hero and his foibles. What I’m saying is: I was ready to gift everybody with that book before it was even available for sale. Guess what everyone’s getting from me this Christmas?Lisa See, author of “China Dolls” (Random House)
“A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal,” by Ben Macinteyre (Crown)
Much has been written about Kim Philby, perhaps the greatest spy in history, but Ben Macintyre has focused on the manipulation and deception of Philby’s two closest friends over the course of two decades. It’s all brilliant and very dark, but what’s fascinating from a writer’s perspective is that every author of espionage — from Ian Fleming and John Le Carré, who both knew Philby, to Alan Furst, Daniel Silva, and so many others — has been influenced by the deeds and misdeeds of this flawed, charming, and straight-up dastardly traitor. Beyond the betrayal of his friends and country, Philby (and his fellow double agents) also left behind a trail of wives. Those women weren’t in on “the game,” but they knew something was desperately wrong, even if they couldn’t put their fingers on it. Philby and his ilk left heartbreaking tragedy and death in their wakes. “A Spy Among Friends” reads like a spellbinding thriller, but it’s all true.
If this marvelous collection of short stories had consisted of only one, “Another Manhattan,” it would still have been my favorite book of the year. The story has everything: it’s funny, it’s touching, it’s beautiful, and in the end, tragic. The short story is a hard discipline, and mostly ends up feeling like a trick. Antrim’s don’t. They are the real thing.Bradford Morrow, author of “The Forgers” (Mysterious Press)Lynne Tillman, author of “What Would Lynne Tillman Do?” (Red Lemonade)
Dorothy, a publishing project
“Fourth of July Creek,” by Smith Henderson (Ecco)After the divorce I lived in a guest house, which was perfect because it belonged to someone else, was filled with someone else’s books containing someone else’s lovelorn inscriptions (Did you ever really love me, or were you just coming down? -Scottie), and also because I never felt alone; glass doors spanned the wide back of the main house, so that I only had to look up from my desk to see Tucker and Liza moving around inside the house, carrying cups of coffee, he shirtless and she in her underwear, their bodies bronzed and fit in the way of rich people with plenty of leisure time.
It was a sexy property, big languorous oaks overhanging the deck, dropping acorns into the Jacuzzi, outdoor speakers piping jazz and trance music through the yard all day and into the night; even the guest house was furnished like an opium den, the furniture built for snorting coke or screwing, and though at first I had wanted to live like a monk, gradually the place began to transform me, so that one night around Christmas, when I saw the globes of Tucker’s ass working as he fucked a woman who wasn’t Liza on the silver couch of their living room, I walked down the pathway toward the house and sat in the hanging rattan chair to watch, the turquoise pool glittering like a jewel, the Louisiana night mild and green-smelling, Snow Miser and Heat Miser dueling, unwatched, on the television behind them.
Keija Parssinen is the author of the novels “The Unraveling of Mercy Louis” (forthcoming, March 2015) and “The Ruins of Us”
Smith Henderson’s “Fourth of July Creek” arrived at my house in galleys. I read it, loved it, and immediately wanted to share it with my students. The publisher sent more galleys. We all read and adored (and were jealous of, let’s be honest, we’re writers) the book for its humor, psychological smarts, deft thriller-type plot moves, tremendously well-rendered western landscape, and perhaps most of all, its flawed hero and his foibles. What I’m saying is: I was ready to gift everybody with that book before it was even available for sale. Guess what everyone’s getting from me this Christmas?Lisa See, author of “China Dolls” (Random House)
“A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal,” by Ben Macinteyre (Crown)
Much has been written about Kim Philby, perhaps the greatest spy in history, but Ben Macintyre has focused on the manipulation and deception of Philby’s two closest friends over the course of two decades. It’s all brilliant and very dark, but what’s fascinating from a writer’s perspective is that every author of espionage — from Ian Fleming and John Le Carré, who both knew Philby, to Alan Furst, Daniel Silva, and so many others — has been influenced by the deeds and misdeeds of this flawed, charming, and straight-up dastardly traitor. Beyond the betrayal of his friends and country, Philby (and his fellow double agents) also left behind a trail of wives. Those women weren’t in on “the game,” but they knew something was desperately wrong, even if they couldn’t put their fingers on it. Philby and his ilk left heartbreaking tragedy and death in their wakes. “A Spy Among Friends” reads like a spellbinding thriller, but it’s all true.
If this marvelous collection of short stories had consisted of only one, “Another Manhattan,” it would still have been my favorite book of the year. The story has everything: it’s funny, it’s touching, it’s beautiful, and in the end, tragic. The short story is a hard discipline, and mostly ends up feeling like a trick. Antrim’s don’t. They are the real thing.Bradford Morrow, author of “The Forgers” (Mysterious Press)Lynne Tillman, author of “What Would Lynne Tillman Do?” (Red Lemonade)
Dorothy, a publishing project
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