Some of my work on Updike was discussed on The Dish with Andrew Sullivan.
Some of my work on Ross Macdonald was discussed on Pretty Sinister Books.
Here is my interview with superstar music impresario Wendy Starland.
Here is my interview with Pulitzer Prize nominee Olympia Vernon.
Here is my interview with the editor of Best American Short Stories, Heidi Pitlor.
Here is my interview with acclaimed artist Emil Kazaz.
My musing on John D. Macdonald, Travis McGee, and the chicks was picked up on The Rap Sheet.
This is only scratching the surface! Some quotes from six of Updike's fifty odd books.
From Rabbit Redux:
"Take back those slaps."
"How can I?"
"Kiss my feet."
He kneels to comply. Annoyed at such ready compliance, which implies pleasure, she stiffens her feet and kicks so her toenails stab his cheek, dangerously near his eyes.He pins her ankles to continue his kissing. Slightly doughy, matronly ankles. Green veins on her insteps. Nice remembered locker room taste. Cheap vanilla.
"Your tongue between my toes."
From Rabbit is Rich:
There are feet that have done a lot worse than his, on a lot of women's in summer sandals you notice how the little toes have been bent under by years of pointy high heeled shoes, and the big toes pushed over so the joint sticks out like a broken bone; thank God since he is a man that has never happened to him. Nor to Cindy Murkett either, come to think of it; toes side by side like candies in a box.
From Midpoint and Other Poems:
"...but he does like the sight of her bare toes, spread slightly apart, as on hard working Asian feet, their little joints whitened by the tension of keeping her flip-flops on."
"...her white feet were high arched and neither little toe touched the floor."
"Her feet, naked in sandals, were dusty, and Harold wondered, walking along Forest Street beside her in the heat, what it would be like to suck each dirty one of her ten toes clean."
From In the Beauty of the Lillies:
Her bad foot was small, a child's foot, and set at a turned-in angle tot he ankle. He lowered his face to it and kissed it - its smallness, its pallor that had never seen the sun, its sweet little sticky foot-smell from the tight high-top laced specially made shoe she wore.
I once wrote an essay on this novel which you can find here:
One of the points I wanted to make was that reading this novel before the internet existed would for most readers be a very different experience than reading it with the net at your fingertips. I still think so today. Still a major read, either way.