The end of the holidays and my nose back to the proverbial grindstone spells a regrettable return to a paucity of weekday posts, though the weekends still got game. With this missive, I'm hoping to start what will become a more or less midweek ritual of linking to other worthwhile pieces 'round Blogtown and Netsville whilst my fair readers count the minutes by like a 90s-era Meg Ryan heroine wondering why that bastard hasn't called. Hope you enjoy:
Christopher Hitchens on Salman Rushdie. The ever provocative, occasionally lucid Hitch is in full possession of his faculties with this penetrating Vanity Fair piece marking the 20th anniversary of the publication of The Satanic Verses and the far-reaching consequences of the Ayatollah's fatwa on his friend.
Kelefa Sanneh's New Yorker profile on singer-songwriter-actor Will Oldham (dubbed "Beardy McGruntsalot" by a witty chap at the IMDb). I wasn't a big fan of Oldham's acting chops in Old Joy, but I'm interested in Kelly Reichardt's follow-up Wendy and Lucy, in which Oldham not only appears but wrote the music.
Last, I haven't followed the Slate Movie Club since David Edelstein's farewell bash soured by a cuckoo Armond White and a disgraceful Charles Taylor. This year's gathering, however, has been a fitfully amusing chick fest, in which Taylor's wife Stephanie Zacharek meets her alter ego Lisa Schwarzbaum. Finally. Face to Face. Or at least keyboard to keyboard.
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