Write Fielder

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Posts tagged tom wolfe

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287/366 Wowie! Zowee! Zounds! Stepped off the red-eye … bleary-eyed … teary-eyed … rub, rub, rrrrrrrrub, finally clear-eyed … to see Tom Wolfe’s new book as hidden as any day-glo, rave-orange, toilet cleanser-blue book could be on a newsstand shelf — a week before its official debut. Is this a mistake? An oversight? A hyuk hyuk hyuk miracle? Don’t care. On the first off day of the NLCS, I know how I’ll spend my evening … reading … flip … about Miami … flip … and billionaire art collectors … flip … as only the colorful author in the colorless suit can write … flip! flip! flip! (Taken with Instagram)

287/366 Wowie! Zowee! Zounds! Stepped off the red-eye … bleary-eyed … teary-eyed … rub, rub, rrrrrrrrub, finally clear-eyed … to see Tom Wolfe’s new book as hidden as any day-glo, rave-orange, toilet cleanser-blue book could be on a newsstand shelf — a week before its official debut. Is this a mistake? An oversight? A hyuk hyuk hyuk miracle? Don’t care. On the first off day of the NLCS, I know how I’ll spend my evening … reading … flip … about Miami … flip … and billionaire art collectors … flip … as only the colorful author in the colorless suit can write … flip! flip! flip! (Taken with Instagram)

Filed under books tom wolfe nlcs project 365+

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Et Tu, Mark

TOWER GROVE — In the wilderness of read, half-read and unread books that are piling up on and all around the bookshelves of my office, I found this morning a thumbed-over copy of a book that I abused in college: Et Tu, Babe by Mark Leyner. I’ve read stories of writers, like Hunter S. Thompson, who would retype their favorite books to get a feel for how sentences created rhythm, momentum, and the changes in tempo that powered a story. Judging by the dog ears in the book and Post-It notes that fell out of it when I pulled it off the shelf, that’s what I did with Et Tu. Guess that says a lot about what I was thinking at the time. I read some of the pages right out of the binding, apparently, and recently realized a quote from the book has been taped to my desk for, oh, about 18 years now.

The book is a runaway fever dream, complete with psychedelic passages and Corporate America lunacy. It centers on an author so famous that a coffee table book is created out of photos of him lounging nude on top of the Team Leyner offices — photos taken by a spy satellite. At one point he seeks out the high he could get from snorting a “vial of Lincoln’s morning breath” that is held at

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Filed under books mark leyner tom wolfe journalism writing