“And you have been forever, and will be forever, and all the worrisome smashings of your foot on the innocent cupboard doors it was only the Void pretending to be a man pretending not to know the Void–”

– Jack Kerouac (March 12, 1922 – October 21, 1969)

Jack Gilbert Is Old And Good

Searching For Pittsburgh

by Jack Gilbert

The fox pushes softly, blindly through me at night,
between the liver and the stomach. Comes to the heart
and hesitates. Considers and then goes around it.
Trying to escape the mildness of our violent world.
Goes deeper, searching for what remains of Pittsburgh
in me. The rusting mills sprawled gigantically
along three rivers. The authority of them.
The gritty alleys where we played every evening were
stained pink by the inferno always surging in the sky,
as though Christ and the Father were still fashioning the Earth.
Locomotives driving through the cold rain,
lordly and bestial in their strength. Massive water
flowing morning and night throughout a city
girded with ninety bridges. Sumptuous-shouldered,
sleek-thighed, obstinate and majestic, unquenchable.
All grip and flood, mighty sucking and deep-rooted grace.
A city of brick and tired wood. Ox and sovereign spirit.
Primitive Pittsburgh. Winter month after month telling
of death. The beauty forcing us as much as harshness.
Our spirits forged in that wilderness, our minds forged
by the heart. Making together a consequence of America.
The fox watched me build my Pittsburgh again and again.
In Paris afternoons on Buttes-Chaumont. On Greek islands
with their fields of stone. In beds with women, sometimes,
amid their gentleness. Now the fox will live in our ruined
house. My tomatoes grow ripe among weeds and the sound
of water. In this happy place my serious heart has made.

Jack Kroll Interviews Susan Sontag

The Eternal Flame

Coinciding with our thoughts on eternal life, we take a moment to recognize the birthday of one of America’s greatest writers, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Everything that can be said about Fitzgerald has most likely already been said. So we will leave it up to the archives. Check out his obituary from the Associated Press.

HOLLYWOOD, Dec. 22 (AP) Scott Fitzgerald, novelist, short-story writer and scenarist, died at his Hollywood home yesterday. He was forty-four years old. He suffered a heart attack three weeks ago.

Wrote of “Lost Generation”

F. Scott Fitzgerald is said to have invented the so-called “younger generation” of two decades ago. At any rate, he was the most articulate writer about the rich, young set which was also variously referred to as “the lost generation” and the “post-war generation,” and as such he acquired a reputation far out of proportion to his works, which were limited to four novels and several volumes of short stories.

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Today is the birthday of the short story writer Andre Dubus. Dubus is the author of numerous collections, many of which have been lauded for his style, compassion and craftsmanship. Dubus is described as a “writer’s writer”, which means that during his lifetime his tremendous gifts often went unnoticed. But his work is much more than a greeting card exchanged between authors. His stories are rich with emotional weight and poetic consequence. They employ impressive dexterity and share with the reader a thorough understanding of love, heartbreak and morality. Currently, Dubus’ work is celebrated across the globe. He is widely considered one of the greatest short story writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1999. Today would have been his 72nd birthday.

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