At half past ten on Monday evening, as a slim, chilly mist settled over Manhattan, we made our way toward the Hudson River for the not likely guide occasion at a venue that is unlikely. Our location had been the conventional, the posh, glass-fronted resort that suggestively straddles the tall Line. The conventional had been chock-full of books: just days prior to, Salman Rushdie had filled spaces with contemporary classics, from Bellow to Faulkner to Morrison (i enjoy imagine him having a maidвЂ™s cart, placing a novel regarding the pillow after switching along the duvet).
The books had been an element of the yearly PEN World Voices Festival; Rushdie may be the creator and this chair that is yearвЂ™s.
One hopes that the StandardвЂ™s visitors, a bunch that is notoriously voyeuristic had been skipping right to the racier titlesвЂ”вЂњPortnoyвЂ™s Complaint,вЂќ possibly, or PynchonвЂ™s вЂњV.вЂќ But they’d daddy bear sex absolutely nothing regarding the audience that has been collecting beneath an enormous disco ball in Le Bain, the resort bar that generally plays host as to what IвЂ™m guessing are fairly glamorous pool events in a huge sunken hot spa. 继续阅读