Jim Harrison

Jim Harrison
jim-harrison

VIA COPPER CANYON

WHERE IS JIM HARRISON? SEVEN POEMS FROM A MASTER

Some time ago an artist friend did several large paintings for Jim. They were paintings of the types of trees he had there on his land in Montana. That was where the farmhouse was. He lived other places too, including Colorado and France. He did a lot of travel in and around Michigan where he was born, in 1937. He is dead now, died in March of this year. There wasn’t a lot of notice. You would have missed it entirely if you weren’t checking in. He never quite made it to the top of the literary mountain though some of his prose made it into films: Legends of the Fall, and Wolf. A quote: our error is that life lasts exactly seven times longer than the way we live it. He was called “the last of the literary lions.” He’d like that.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

To everyone, and to all a good day.

 

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Sometimes a trail…

…leads somewhere

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Sometimes tracks lead somewhere too…

 

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Cannibals in Love, The Mothers, and more: 17 book designers pick the best covers of 2016.

The 60 Best Book Covers of 2016, As Chosen By Designers
Today in “2016 was garbage but at least we had good ____,” we bring you: book covers. Because it’s true: this year, we had a healthy quantity of beautiful,…
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A kind of Kafka steeped in LSD and rage (Roberto Bolaño on Philip K. Dick)

Well and but of course because I love them all (ok some) as in specifically Bolano & Dick. And then DeLillo.

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Roberto Bolaño on Philip K. Dick. from New Directions’ collection of Bolaño’s newspaper columns, forewords, and other ephemera Between Parentheses)—

Dick was a schizophrenic. Dick was a paranoiac. Dick is one of the ten best American writers of the 20th century, which is saying a lot. Dick was a kind of Kafka steeped in LSD and rage. Dick talks to us, in The Man in the High Castle, in what would become his trademark way, about how mutable reality can be and therefore how mutable history can be. Dick is Thoreau plus the death of the American dream. Dick writes, at times, like a prisoner, because ethically and aesthetically he really is a prisoner. Dick is the one who, in Ubik, comes closest to capturing the human consciousness or fragments of consciousness in the context of their setting; the correspondence between what he tells and the structure of what’s told…

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