Sunday, May 19, 2013


 Dear Ms Berson,

and the NY Times obit of Herbert Blau

​one would of course never imagine that he did not participate in the Seattle theater scene upon his arrival here about a decade or so ago, not that it probably would have made much of a difference.
However, after checking around whether I might have missed something during that period,
indeed Blau did not engage with the then wilting melancholy scene.

I tried to discuss Handke's theater with him
about half a decade ago when I was writing up my Handke theater lectures, but he didn't even have the courtesy of a reply'
to my inquiries,  After all,  Handke is the successor to Brecht, Beckett and Ionesco, and during Blau's days at Lincoln CenterBlau was at least tangentially responsible for mounting RIDE ACROSS LAKE CONSTANCE at the Vivian Beaumont, Irving having been the chief mover. He and I encountered each
other briefly at a reception at the UW, I mentioned RIDE, to establish a talking point - he averted at once, so there may have been a sore point that I inadvertently touched.
There are not too many people around here with whom one might discuss Handke in real detail. The only other person who came to mind was Roger Downey who had proved
himself too untrustworthy if not sinister by then.

Thus, these obituaries for deeds done in the distant past - and which never discuss the
books that these worthies write when they tire of the fight among the unwashed and retreat into
academe, where no one will read their books - are really no more than puff pieces, more dust thrown into the eyes of the ignorant.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Isn't there something someone can do about the miserable fiction published in The New Yorker.

I am wondering whether there isn't something someone can do
about the miserable fiction published nine out of ten times
in The New Yorker.

There YOU are, re
viewing first rate fiction
of all kinds, and doing so on a fine high level, and then there
is the dissonance that your and a few other's writing produces
 with stuff as in the issue of M
ay 13 by one
Fiona McFarlane where one finds the dear woman writing,
no doubt in all innocence, sentences, dialogue as in the center
column of that story on page 59.
The drearily boring and fraudulent
procedure of dialogue cum omnicient reflection I take it is probably
still appreciated by certain kinds of daft readers, and perhaps
the New Yorker uses its fiction to angle for them. However, I can't
imagine anyone for whom fiction is important even bothering after
being subjected to what the magazine puts out in that respect.
Michael Roloff

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MICHAEL ROLOFF exMember Seattle Psychoanalytic Institute and Society this LYNX will LEAP you to all my HANDKE project sites and BLOGS: "MAY THE FOGGY DEW BEDIAMONDIZE YOUR HOOSPRINGS!" {J. Joyce} "Sryde Lyde Myde Vorworde Vorhorde Vorborde" [von Alvensleben] contact via my website


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