P.R. Kerschen here, guest writer in residence at Green Street, with Laurenjoe and 1.75 cats. Today we'd like to draw your attention to a Modern Humorist article a few months old but still full of beans: Harry Potter and the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, complete with testimonials by Michiko Kakutani and David Foster Wallace.
“Three cheers for Harry Potter!” shouts Hermione from the beach below as I glide down. Three cheers. Brilliant. This is how we speak to each other, a ha-ha on ourselves and the important work we are doing. We are the ones who will save Hogwarts. We are wizards and witches and everyone else is a Muggle. They cannot conjure. They can not transfigure. Oh, they are over.
Apparently Eggers saw it before it went up and posted something on McSweeney's to the effect that he wasn't mad, then spent a long time talking about how the $1.4 million he got for paperback rights is actually more like $300,000. This is horrid. This means I will have to write three or four blockbusters before I can buy my death ray.
Last night we moved Beyond Balderdash. Movie title: "To the Last Man." Synopsis: "The story of two feuding families. Features a nude swimming scene and Shirley Temple." And that's the real one. We have to rent this. My grandfather danced with Shirley Temple once -- she swore like a sailor.
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