Parker Menzimer

@parker-m.info

“Bon” “vivant.” Mainly here logging my reading.

“In this garden our task has been to witness the fleet and unmelodious ghost called Liberty, but tomorrow we must allow that ambition to gently recede - as a rhythm deferred - and leaning, pluck lust from the pistilate heart.” —Lisa Robertson

The “backlash” against “autofiction” will be led by people who never understood the “genre” as anything but a “buzzword”—by people who never understood why it arose, and what it meant in those cultural contexts, but who will nonetheless feel the “need” to “transcend” it.

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#Finished Marios Chakkas’s THE COMMUNE (Inpatient Press, 2024), which is unrelentingly bleak and devilishly funny. Like this year’s Sirāt and The Secret Agent, it captures the doomed, absurd logic of fascist censure (except it’s nonfiction—sort of).

#Finished Bob Glück’s JACK THE MODERNIST (NYRB Classics reissue). The prose hefts the paratactic pleasures of contemporary poetry and LANGUAGE-adjacent compositional tactics in a tender, campy, porny, gossipy love letter that will make you cry yourself into existence. (If you don’t, just give up).