As an alternative to the debate currently taking place on Twitter, and elsewhere, over popular vs. literary fiction and what’s for chicks and what’s for dicks and so forth, I wanted to bring your attention to a couple of books I recently read and enjoyed that I might not have picked up if not for the fact that I follow their authors on Twitter. See, hack comics? It’s good for more than giving narcissists a platform from which to talk about their lunches or whatever hack comics think people use it for!
1. And The Heart Says Whatever, by Emily Gould. You may know Gould as a former employee of Gawker or for a New York Times Magazine story she wrote about the effects of exposing oneself to criticism from the public at large, via the internet. I didn’t read Gawker during her tenure and I still haven’t read that story (though I sure have read a lot ABOUT it), but I read her Tumblr and was interested in her professional/personal experiences as a web writer because…you know. And even though the details of my biography are different from hers (I had already been married six months before I started a webzine, which is what they were called then, and my personal and professional lives have been intertwined basically that entire time), there are so many epiphanies about what you need to do to protect your own sanity that no one can tell you; you just have to get to them on your own. Reading her memoir was hard for me at some points because my wish to step into the book and give her the benefit of my wisdom as an elder stateswoman of the internet made me feel maternal, for God’s sake, and am I really that much older than she is? I am. Anyway, I know from her Twitter feed that she’s having a fun summer so she doesn’t need me anyway. And the book is great: her style reminds me of Margaret Atwood’s early short stories. Get it.
2. The Book Of Right And Wrong, by Matt Debenham. Though I haven’t met Matt, I have had lunch with his fantastic wife Caissie St. Onge a number of times and; I would have bought his book out of Twitter loyalty to them both. So I was, for real, unprepared for how great this book is. As a short-story fan, I am always looking for recommendations, but (sorry, Matt) pre-Twitter I didn’t know about him at all. Why aren’t Matt Debenham’s short stories in The New Yorker?! I would put this volume up against anything by Alice Munro; Matt’s stories are truthful and devastating and the book’s only fault is how quickly it ends. If you don’t buy this book you are doing yourself a disservice.
3. Going In Circles by Pamela Ribon. Now, I believe this young lady is a screenwriter who…just kidding. Obviously I know Pam: we’ve been naked together in semi-public so many times that I may know her better in some ways than her mother does. (I’m sorry that the podcast we recorded in Hawaii last year, featuring the scandalous story of the time we accidentally booked a three-way naked mud sauna with Dave, is no longer online…because that shit is gold.) I know you can’t take my endorsement entirely seriously because Pam is my dear friend, but I absolutely adored Going In Circles. While her first two novels were also sad and funny and great, Circles is an artistic leap forward that, as her friend, I was so excited and proud to read. The subject matter — divorce — is some of her toughest yet, and she dramatizes it without a whiff of soapiness or melodrama. I understand if you can’t take my word for it, so fortunately, you can take Oprah’s. Pam has spent the summer travelling around the country supporting the book and meeting other derby girls (it’s about divorce AND roller derby), so you should follow her on Twitter to make sure you know when she’s coming to your town. And you should have read the book by the time she gets there.
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