a little short, a week late
i love this short story in last week's new yorker...the year of spaghetti by haruki murakami...
Nineteen-seventy-one was the Year of Spaghetti.
In 1971, I cooked spaghetti to live, and lived to cook spaghetti. Steam rising from the pot was my pride and joy, tomato sauce bubbling up in the saucepan my one great hope in life...
the author has website that superfans can obsess over. i love that his writing career was borne from a baseball moment, and that he once owned a jazz club. the hardcover and paperback cover art galleries are a nice touch--an interesting way to honor and give voice to the artists, chip kidd and john gall.
Nineteen-seventy-one was the Year of Spaghetti.
In 1971, I cooked spaghetti to live, and lived to cook spaghetti. Steam rising from the pot was my pride and joy, tomato sauce bubbling up in the saucepan my one great hope in life...
the author has website that superfans can obsess over. i love that his writing career was borne from a baseball moment, and that he once owned a jazz club. the hardcover and paperback cover art galleries are a nice touch--an interesting way to honor and give voice to the artists, chip kidd and john gall.
posted by lahat at 9:24 AM
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