Poetry in Motion: Highlights from Vol. 1 Brooklyn’s NFC-AFC Championship Live Blog

Welcome. Introducting our panel of annual analysts: Climp Bators (Pigskin Warthog Online Editor, statistician, sub-par husband) Lash St. Cower (Portland Daily Gazette columnist, senile ex-lover of Eartha Kitt) Rosalind Propecia (on-field interviewer, ESPN Chechnya) Cormac McCarthy (Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Road and All the Pretty Horses, licensed misanthrope) Kegstands-X5 (sentient, artificially intelligent android sent from the future to discuss football) Peaches Malloy (three-time Pro Bowl running back, disgraced infomercial psychic)

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Morning Bites: Magic vs. Bird musical, Lorin Stein, Cormac McCarthy Yelps, drunk president, and more

Larry Bird vs. Magic Johnson: The Musical? Cormac McCarthy doing Yelp reviews.  (We really want this to be real.) Lorin Stein of The Paris Review is a stylish dude. The NYPL president gets caught driving drunk. From typeface to Bob Dylan’s book, Slate picks some new classics. A.O. Scott revisits Sam Peckinpah’s 1969 Western The Wild Bunch. Follow Vol. 1 Brooklyn on Twitter, Facebook, and our Tumblr.

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Weekend Bites: Proust Questionnaire, Bad Book Titles, Will Self, Jack Rose Remembered, T Rex’s Jewishness, and More

I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I may have found my favorite awful library book. Lit. The interactive Proust questionnaire over at Vanity Fair. NBA star Steve Nash and Cormac McCarthy discussed in this article. Appreciation for Alan Moore’s brilliant graphic novel, From Hell. Three Guys One Book show love for Emily St. John Mandel. Al Gore: Poet. The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn talks about writing the adaptation to Klosterman’s Fargo Rock City. Robert Birnbaum discusses Will […]

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Bites: Juliet Linderman Interviews Paul Auster, LOOK on Display, Wes Anderson’s Music Choices, and more

Juliet Linderman, managing editor of The Greenpoint Gazette and featured reader at last month’s Vol. 1 Storytelling anniversary party, has lovingly and skillfully interviewed Paul Auster for The Rumpus. It is “lovingly” done in the sense that she clearly holds the novelist to eminent, celebratory respect, and “skillful” in that she just did it really fucking well. And Auster upholds it with his writerly charm, eclipsing the recent unpleasing flavor left atop my literary taste buds by Cormac McCarthy.

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