The stories of Diane Williams
After finishing a thousand page novel a few years ago (Settlers Landing, ITNA Press, 2023), as a way of “recovery” I started writing these very short stories, many of which are gathered in this latest book. Diane Williams has built an entire career out of writing such miniatures – I hate the term “flash fiction”; one is almost tempted to call them “fragments,” only they’re not. Williams’s stories, along with Kafka’s parables, might look like fragments; in fact, they are wholes. (When we speak of fragmentation as form, we’re really talking about texture.) Equal, in ways, to a thousand page novel, only usually taking the space of a single paragraph, a few sentences; in art criticism, we know not to confuse size with scale, a truism that most fiction writers are perhaps unaware of.
Many of Williams’ stories are very, very good. In execution and in form; on the level of the sentence; how the sentence is permitted, in some sense, to “carry” the entire story. Our point of departure: her bourgeois sensibility, which is anathema to my own. The stories always seem to be set in these fairly conventional, upper-middle class, heterosexual arrangements – the most boring milieu imaginable. The POV, in other words, is limited; but the language is great. I hear she’s rich.
The first time I met Pierre d’Alancaisez, he told me that the purpose of his East London multi-functional event space – and now, publishing platform – is to bring the counter-culture back from the dead. What this means in 2026: perhaps the only place on Earth where people who disagree on some things can come together and forge discordant new melodies. In this world, that’s as close to utopia as we’re likely to get.
Bangkok
People who never travel are largely unaware of the fact that the West has been in a state of prolonged suicide for many years now. When they travel for the first time to East or Southeast Asian cities, they’re often shocked by how hyper-charged and energetic and forward-thinking and youthful and technologically advanced these places have become in comparison. Shanghai used to be the center of all this; now it’s Bangkok. The capital of energy, renewal, the proliferation of counter-cultures, a seamless integration of the online with the real and with only half an ounce of the toxicity you find in the Western enshittosphere. Moreover, it’s friendly, as respect for fellow humans is part of the culture here. The most awful thing about Bangkok: having to leave.
The art of biography
I never understood why this is such a big no-no among serious, so-called, writers and critics. To me, a well-written biography reads the same as a compelling novel – there are more similarities than differences between the two forms. What’s more, biography elevates gossip to the level of high art. And who doesn’t love gossip?
Venice at Night
By day, with the flood of tourists clogging the city, it is a nightmare. At night, the daytrippers go home, everything empties out, the nightlights shimmer on the water, illuminating the majestic façades, and Venice becomes what it has always been: the most beautiful city in the entire world.
Soho Theatre
Even though I write plays, I normally hate theatre – especially theatre in Berlin lately. But maybe I’ve been lucky, whenever I go to London, there always seems to be something good on at the Soho Theatre. A lot of their programming appeals to people of a more faggoty nature such as myself. Above all, it is one of the few prominent venues I know of that takes comedy seriously as a much needed, much threatened antidotal artform.
I normally hate conceptual art – well, most of it – but Heman’s work is bereft of the dryness and clinicality that afflicts so much of it, and is undergirded with a sense of humor that is so so necessary. This makes him one of my favorite thinkers-through-art on the planet, currently.
The Pre-Socratics
Because they only exist in fragments; this makes me jealous, at times. I want to be fragmented too. (I am fragmented, in certain ways.) My favorite, of course, is Heraclitus. I started writing a play inspired by him. Maybe some day I will finish it.
Holy shit blown to smithereens, yet another symptom of genius – a condition apparently endemic to the Japanese psyche, particularly in anything pertaining to sensibility and aesthetics – manifests! They make Kit-Kat in four hundred gazillion flavors, and they keep inventing more. And more. And more… Some of my favorites: Baskin Robbins Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream, Blueberry Cheesecake, Sake, Peach, Ume Sake, Cookies and Cream, Strawberry, Miso Soup, Strawberry Cheesecake, Plum Wine, Cherry Blossom Sake, Ginger Ale, Butter, Soy Sauce, Hokkaido Melon with Mascarpone Cheese, Pear, Oreo Ice Cream, Cherry Blossom Mochi, Matcha Tiramisu…
Actors
There’s a great similarity between writing fiction and acting. In order to write, I usually have to pretend like I’m something I’m not; it’s the only way.
Malls of Asia
Growing up in American suburbia, I hated the mall because it was the only option. Now, throughout the West, the mall as phenomenon appears to be dying out, thanks to online shopping (the Covid-19 pandemic also gave it a good kick in the ribs.) But not in Asia’s metropoli, where malls are XL, plus-sized palaces, often interconnected with elevated walkways. Rotting old malls with lots of character, hyper-new malls with ridiculous opulence, refreshingly air-conditioned to rescue from the searing tropical heat, endless food courts with cuisine from all over the world… The sixth floor of the MK Center in Bangkok has a food court next to a big dental center with walls of transparent glass, so you can stand there and sip your bubble tea while watching someone get their teeth drilled. Now that’s my kind of entertainment!
The Offline Revolution
It’s coming!