Christian Molenaar

Category: Nothings

  • Untitled 6108

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    And blowing the most recent Pynchon news out of the water, Penguin Random House announced today the October 7th publication of Shadow Ticket, Pynchon’s latest novel. Read more

  • Modern Art

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    I looked at the façade of the clinic through the slightly fogged window of the taxi and understood that what lay behind it, more than anything, even more than madness, was solitude, which is perhaps the subtlest or at least the most lucid of the forms that madness can take. It was seven in the… Read more

  • A Small Success

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    There was the story of the man who went to pieces, and there was the story of the high and iron fence. There was the saga of Uncle Simon, the Hen Woods burning, and the hunt for Hog Bellman. He had them all. Hours, weeks, months — a life — they’d cost him. Were they… Read more

  • A Curious Kind of Reptile

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    Another odd typesetting error, this time from the Bantam Classics pressing of Charlotte Brontë’s Villette. Read more

  • The Gray and Stony Coast

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    On the second of April David Brown with Long Webster and Toadvine set out for the town of San Diego on the old Mexican coast for the purpose of obtaining supplies. They took with them a string of packanimals and they left at sunset, riding up out of the trees and looking back at the… Read more

  • A Mute Goes Aboard a Boat on the Mississippi

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    At sunrise on a first of April, there appeared, suddenly as Manco Capac at the lake Titicaca, a man in cream-colors, at the water-side in the city of St. Louis. Read more

  • On the Horizon

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    Word on two upcoming American Epics: Read more

  • Milk

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    The last day of March some scavenger children discovered a body in the El Chile dump, in a complete state of decomposition. What was left of it was removed to the city’s Institute of Forensic Anatomy, where all the usual procedures were performed. It appeared that the victim was somewhere between fifteen and twenty years… Read more

  • Trudging Along

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    I retelephoned two hours later; got, as usual, Sybil; insisted on talking to my friend (my “messages” were never transmitted), obtained him, and asked him as calmly as possible what he had been doing around noon when I had heard him like a big bird in my garden. He could not quite remember, said wait… Read more

  • March 23

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    Have not seen her since that night. Unwell? Sits at the fire perhaps with mamma’s shawl on her shoulders. But not peevish. A nice bowl of gruel? Won’t you now? Read more

Thought:

“If you make a story with gaps in it, people just step in to fill them up, they can’t help themselves.”

Robert Coover