classmates vol 2 sotsu gyo sei asumiko nakamura

Since then, I’ve written for and about and to and because of men. When he laughed at and loved my writing, I felt the erotic surge of my own power. My first muse was a chubby, bespectacled, brown-eyed, sharply intelligent 13-year-old boy in Phoenix, Arizona in 1975. So why can’t we need men to fuel our work? Women need men to get pregnant, among other important things. If Robert Graves were still around, he’d say that’s impossible: “Woman is not a poet: she is either muse or she is nothing.” Don’t worry, though! It’s not that women - sorry, woman - can’t write, just that when a woman writes “she is herself the Muse, a Goddess without an external power to guide or comfort her.” Why do you think there’s been so much resistance historically to the idea that a woman might be creatively inspired by love and lust and longing for a man? “He giggled gratifyingly at each chapter,” you told The New York Times, “which I found so inspiring, I have been collecting male muses ever since.” You’ve said that you wrote your first novel in the eighth grade for a boy you liked.

He’s moved a few blocks away, into one of the city’s most notorious SROs. Her latest novel, The Astral, is about poet and sometime lothario Harry Quirk, 57, whose wife has just destroyed all the sonnets he’s been working on for years and, wrongly accusing him of having an affair with a friend of theirs, kicked him out of their Greenpoint (Brooklyn) apartment. After I praised them on the radio, she emailed me and we became friends, which is great because she’s a wonderful, smart, funny, generous person, but it’s also weird, because she’s one of my favorite living writers, and here she is, flesh and blood, moving through the world like the rest of us. I discovered Kate Christensen’s work several years ago, when I read The Great Man, and then all the rest of her books, in one weekend. Male Muses And Inner Dicks: A Conversation With Kate Christensen

Classmates vol 2 sotsu gyo sei asumiko nakamura