I love her novels.
They make me squeal.
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
I love her novels.
They make me squeal.
Amending: I've read a few of her essays (New Yorker? One of those, anyway). It's possible her sensibilities are, er, too East Coast to make me squeal.
I don't play well with with Erica Jong, either. Me and the new York thang, as is al ready known to some, we do not cohere.
Her novels are so just... filled with things. And her command of narration, and irony, make me go all gushy.
She's said she still thinks of herself as primarily a novelist.
I think it's the irony thing; I lost my taste for it an awfully long time ago, after I discovered that for me (real-world me), it was a killer and something to be avoided.
So I stopped liking reading it, and I started mistrusting people who were essentially purely ironic. That's just me. It's not a mask that I want to peer behind, mostly.
Oh, no, they're not nearly purely ironic.
I just saw slight metatextual jokes here and there. But I see those everywhere. Actually, I think my definition of irony is not everyone's definition of irony.
I love her novels.
I guess you haven't seen Bull Durham yet, huh?
... no.
OK I love the two of her novels that I've read. This is Susan Sontag. That's a lot!
OK I love the two of her novels that I've read. This is Susan Sontag. That's a lot!
Are they early ones from the sixties? Or the Volcano lover one which is less experimental?
I'm a big fan of her essays. "Notes on Camp" and "Illness as Metaphor" are major works.
She spoke at Miami when I was there, about "On Illness as Metaphor."
Oh! This reminds me that I was just gossiping with Teppy about this. Susan Sontag and Annie Leibovitz just broke up. I didn't even know they were lovers! Reported in the local paper.