A letter of complaint has arrived at the office.

Finished Soldiers of Salamis, by Javier Cercas, and the third part was exhilarating. He managed to get Fat City into there, a great John Huston movie I was discussing with Walmsley just recently. And then Robert Bolaños, the late Chilean writer, stepped into the novel as a character. It certainly went places I never would've guessed. And Anne's translation: holy cow: the prose of the last few pages especially took my breath away.

Thought I'd follow that book up with Rosemary Sullivan's Villa Bel-Air, about the project of smuggling artists, writers, and intellectuals out of Vichy France. I almost wish it was written in Cercas' "true novel" style, instead of as a real non-fiction book. It's good, though, and I suspect it'll become ever more compelling as I get deeper into it. Some great photos of Andre Breton, Benjamin Peret, and others.

Tuesday night's reading at the Victory went extremely well: I read mainly stuff I'd never read aloud before: sections from my hospital sequence, my side of my correspondence with Huttel, and a couple poems from Hey, Crumbling Balcony! that I don't remember ever reading before. Got paid, sold six books, had a good visit with Fictitious Kate.

The second installment of my workshop was last night, and it seemed to go very well again. A lot of interesting work, and a real nice group. I think I've got to become increasingly challenging. I'm enjoying the experience, for sure.

Today received my big batch of sub-Terrains. Brian tells me a letter arrived dissing my column. It's my first Hunkamooga letter! (Aside from personal notes I receive.) Yay! Now I've gotta start working on the next installment.

Over and out.