Harry Hope's Saloon

This blog takes it's name from the setting for O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh -- a lousy gin-mill; a smoked-out, greasy dive where the habitues have all landed, it seems, permanently. Their lives, in each case, are paralyzed by fear and laziness. Like my own.

Monday, January 31, 2005

Devil's Workshop

I have recommended to my lil 'ol bookclub that this week we read this essay by Mark Slouka from the November issue of Harper's Magazine - a superb consideration on the diminishing American soul.

Googling the essay, I came accross a decent thread on the subject on the Majikthise blog -- which was recently rolled on jameswolcott.com.

I'm hosting the club this Friday -- I intend to ply everyone with delicious bread pudding, and hold earnestly fourth about the urgency of increasingly narrow margins and the frustration generated by rampant instrumentalization.

What am I talking about? Read the essay...


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