writersnoonereads:

No one reads the fiction of graphic design legend William Addison Dwiggins, because it is impossible to find. I stumbled upon this material while putting together a post on Dwiggins on 50 Watts.

BookTryst: “The small books Dwiggins produced at his private press Püterschein-Hingham have a wonderful mix of experimental type, page layout and illustration. The War Against Waak (1948) shows, in the writing, his admiration for his contemporary, Lord Dunsany.” (Pictured above are the cover and an illustration from this book.)

Bruce Kennett, from his article The Private Press Activities of William Addison Dwiggins: “Armed with a sharp wit and an insightful appreciation of human nature, Dwiggins (‘WAD’) often used humor to drive home points that he wished to make about serious topics. He produced articles and essays under his own name or that of his imaginary colleague, Dr. Hermann Püterschein. He wrote plays for his marionettes, then watched as they were performed in a purpose-built theater of his own design. Dwiggins also wrote a series of fantasy tales—‘The Athalinthia Stories, translated from the Metrelingua Permé and extended with Images and Diagrams’—that captured the sights and scents of exotic places while regarding human aspirations and foibles with particular tenderness and Puckish humor. His personal work was peppered with references to literary classics, revealing his own passions for this subject. All of these activities found expression in his private press work.”

Cover image found here. The illustration is reproduced in William Addison Dwiggins: Stencilled Ornament and Illustration. More at 50 Watts.

jp manchette, fatale

thinlinednotepaper:

“A few minutes later, Lorque parked the Mercedes behind the fish market on a dirty deserted street, because Aimee and he had not finished their discussion. Night had come. Cats ran among piles of empty shells. Inside the car, Lorque and Aimee talked and sat in silence by turns. At one point Lorque covered his face with both hands and it seemed Aimee had spoken sharply to him. At another moment he burst out laughing, but his laughter seemed to be bitter.”
 
An old roman noir, newly-translated, -introduced, and re-printed (NYRB does such good stuff). Important here is the externality of description, which continues throughout; the reader as the eye of a camera, seldom zooming in. In this case held at arm’s length outside of the car, outside of the conversation. Also important, adding to the effect, are the pronouns, or rather the lack of them: Manchette isn’t using pronouns as subjects, just objects and markers of possession, and the effect is distancing, a little stilted, ideal to the narrative.

For a number of reasons – Aimee’s character and her persona, her outsider status, the very particular seventies-ness of attitude and social relations, the control and the brevity of the little book – this reminds me very strongly of Muriel Spark, especially The Driver’s Seat.

“In the darkness the young woman was not visible. Had she been visible, she would not have been beautiful to behold; or perhaps she would have been beautiful to behold, depending on one’s taste. She was utterly disheveled. Gummy with sweat, her hair stuck to her skull and fell in damp strands over her brow and the nape of her neck, like the hair of ladies who make love relentlessly for hours at a time. Streaks of coagulated blood varnished her elbows and one side of her head and a whole forearm. Her long knit-wool coat was soiled in places by dust, fuel oil, and fish guts. Her silk blouse was blood-stained, its ribbing slightly torn on one side. Her nose was smudged with dirt.”

NYRB 04.26.11 (orig. 1977)

“It is impossible to repent of love. The sin of love does not exist.”

— Muriel Spark (via thingsandschemes)

newdirectionspublishing:

Daniel Handler says of Muriel Spark's Not To Disturb: ”Servants gather outside a locked door to make sure a murder goes smoothly. My favorite episode of Downton Abbey that sadly does not exist.”