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With tremendous new stories from Steven Millhauser and Roddy Doyle, an epic, genre-shattering novella from Hilton Als, and a really excellent special section on Norway's finest writers (featuring not just Per Petterson but also Kid Icarus and a woman named Blind Margjit)--along with, probably, correspondence from a man we can't yet name and an unbelievable disappearing-ink cover done by Jordan Crane--Issue 35 is a full-to-bursting edition in the tradition of the best ones we've ever done. For several hundred pages of unrivaled summer reading, this is your book.… (més)
One of the secrets of this issue is that the cover is thermo-active. If heated by the warmth of your finders, or leaving the book in a sunny spot (or running a hair dryer over it), the black portion of the cover changes to a body of water filled with koi and shadowy people caught in the current. The book also contains a little booklet with an advance peek at John Brandon's novel, "Citrus Country," published by McSweeney's. I can't remember too much about this issue's content, except I did not enjoy Hilton Als' entry, a surprise after Egger's rave in his introduction. I very much enjoyed artist Robert Barnes's selection of brown paper bags bags he drew art on for his daughters to carry their lunch to school. Charming and sweet. About 100 pages of the issue are devoted to fiction by Norwegian writers. ( )
The newest installment in the McSweeney's canon (Issue 35) is a mostly-delightful hodgepodge. Robert Barnes' lunch-bag art is amusing, and the collection of Norwegian short stories and poems which make up about a third of the volume made for fascinating reading (prepare for snow, drugs, and mosquitoes). I quite enjoyed John Erik Riley and Mikkel Bugge's introduction to the Norwegian stories, in which the authors point out the strong government support writers receive for practicing their craft (allowing them to experiment "in ways that would otherwise be quite difficult in such a small market").
Roddy Doyle's opening story, "Local," about an unlikely candidate standing for political office in Ireland, was very nice; I skipped much of Hilton Als' "His Sister, Her Monologue" because it definitely wasn't up my alley. But the standout piece for me in this volume (by far) was Steven Millhauser's "Phantoms," which was scary and imaginative and completely unnerving (I should not have been reading it late at night). It alone is worth the price for the issue.
With tremendous new stories from Steven Millhauser and Roddy Doyle, an epic, genre-shattering novella from Hilton Als, and a really excellent special section on Norway's finest writers (featuring not just Per Petterson but also Kid Icarus and a woman named Blind Margjit)--along with, probably, correspondence from a man we can't yet name and an unbelievable disappearing-ink cover done by Jordan Crane--Issue 35 is a full-to-bursting edition in the tradition of the best ones we've ever done. For several hundred pages of unrivaled summer reading, this is your book.
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I can't remember too much about this issue's content, except I did not enjoy Hilton Als' entry, a surprise after Egger's rave in his introduction. I very much enjoyed artist Robert Barnes's selection of brown paper bags bags he drew art on for his daughters to carry their lunch to school. Charming and sweet.
About 100 pages of the issue are devoted to fiction by Norwegian writers. (