I am a Senior Lecturer in English and American Literatures at Keele University in the UK. I work chiefly in contemporary American fiction, focussing on New York City fictions, fictions of gentrification and representations of urban neighbourhoods. I have also published on the music of The Clash, and on Quakerism in American fiction.
This article looks at three New York crime novels by Reggie Nadelson - Disturbed Earth (2004), Re... more This article looks at three New York crime novels by Reggie Nadelson - Disturbed Earth (2004), Red Hook (2005) and Manhattan 62 (2014). It argues that the atmosphere in these stories is, partly in response to 9/11, exaggeratedly apocalyptic, but that ultimately they emphasise historical continuities and reject apocalyptic thinking
The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figurative... more The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively – because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins. You have to put a “box” around it because otherwise, what is that shit on the wall?If John Cage, for instance, says, “I'm putting a contact microphone on my throat, and I'm going to drink carrot juice, and that's my composition,” then his gurgling qualifies as his composition because he put a frame around it and said so. “Take it or leave it, I nowwillthis to bemusic.” After that it's a matter of taste. Without the frame-as-announced, it's a guy swallowing carrot juice.
This article explores two detective stories featuring protagonists with neurological conditions. ... more This article explores two detective stories featuring protagonists with neurological conditions. Lionel Essrog, the narrator of Jonathan Lethem’s Motherless Brooklyn (1999), suffers from Tourette’s Syndrome, and Mark Genevich, hero of Paul Tremblay’s The Little Sleep (2009), has narcolepsy. Each character is unusually attached to his home neighborhood: Essrog to Court Street in Brooklyn and Genevich to South Boston. Indeed, Genevich still lives in his grandparents’ brownstone. What is striking in both novels is how closely their conditions are also connected to these neighborhoods. Essrog’s tics and outbursts mirror the chaos of his Brooklyn, but his obsessive, smoothing-over tendencies reflect his guilt over his orphan status, his desire to reach back into and repair the past. Genevich’s narcolepsy keeps him in “Southie” partly because of his reliance on his mother and partly, in practical terms, because it is dangerous for him to drive. Most importantly, his unpredictable sleep puts “more unconscious space between [him]self and the events [he] experienced”—traumatically induced, his “little sleeps” are “fraudulent extra days, weeks, years,” disruptions in time, when the past invades his dreams. It is significant that Genevich’s condition arises after a car accident in which his friend was killed. In fact, cars are important in both novels. I argue that, as symbols of modernity and American mobility, cars signify in complex relation with the protagonists’ homes and neurological conditions. The “auto body,” to quote one of Motherless Brooklyn’s chapter titles, puns on the involuntary, automatic behaviours of the tourettic and narcoleptic body, but also offers the possiblity of mobility both physical and metaphorical: an escape from the neighborhood and associated obsessions, a way for the detective to connect a wider set of locations and relations, to remap himself beyond the confines of a narrowly imagined community and the restrictions of his condition.
This article looks at three New York crime novels by Reggie Nadelson - Disturbed Earth (2004), Re... more This article looks at three New York crime novels by Reggie Nadelson - Disturbed Earth (2004), Red Hook (2005) and Manhattan 62 (2014). It argues that the atmosphere in these stories is, partly in response to 9/11, exaggeratedly apocalyptic, but that ultimately they emphasise historical continuities and reject apocalyptic thinking
The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figurative... more The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively – because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins. You have to put a “box” around it because otherwise, what is that shit on the wall?If John Cage, for instance, says, “I'm putting a contact microphone on my throat, and I'm going to drink carrot juice, and that's my composition,” then his gurgling qualifies as his composition because he put a frame around it and said so. “Take it or leave it, I nowwillthis to bemusic.” After that it's a matter of taste. Without the frame-as-announced, it's a guy swallowing carrot juice.
This article explores two detective stories featuring protagonists with neurological conditions. ... more This article explores two detective stories featuring protagonists with neurological conditions. Lionel Essrog, the narrator of Jonathan Lethem’s Motherless Brooklyn (1999), suffers from Tourette’s Syndrome, and Mark Genevich, hero of Paul Tremblay’s The Little Sleep (2009), has narcolepsy. Each character is unusually attached to his home neighborhood: Essrog to Court Street in Brooklyn and Genevich to South Boston. Indeed, Genevich still lives in his grandparents’ brownstone. What is striking in both novels is how closely their conditions are also connected to these neighborhoods. Essrog’s tics and outbursts mirror the chaos of his Brooklyn, but his obsessive, smoothing-over tendencies reflect his guilt over his orphan status, his desire to reach back into and repair the past. Genevich’s narcolepsy keeps him in “Southie” partly because of his reliance on his mother and partly, in practical terms, because it is dangerous for him to drive. Most importantly, his unpredictable sleep puts “more unconscious space between [him]self and the events [he] experienced”—traumatically induced, his “little sleeps” are “fraudulent extra days, weeks, years,” disruptions in time, when the past invades his dreams. It is significant that Genevich’s condition arises after a car accident in which his friend was killed. In fact, cars are important in both novels. I argue that, as symbols of modernity and American mobility, cars signify in complex relation with the protagonists’ homes and neurological conditions. The “auto body,” to quote one of Motherless Brooklyn’s chapter titles, puns on the involuntary, automatic behaviours of the tourettic and narcoleptic body, but also offers the possiblity of mobility both physical and metaphorical: an escape from the neighborhood and associated obsessions, a way for the detective to connect a wider set of locations and relations, to remap himself beyond the confines of a narrowly imagined community and the restrictions of his condition.
As part of a project funded by the AHRC, called "Brooklyn Fictions: The Contemporary Urban Commun... more As part of a project funded by the AHRC, called "Brooklyn Fictions: The Contemporary Urban Community in a Global Age," I conducted a public interview with Jonathan Lethem at Pomona College called "Novel Communities." It took place on 7 March 2013.
On 1 September 2017 I hosted a book launch event for the essay collection I co-edited with Sam Co... more On 1 September 2017 I hosted a book launch event for the essay collection I co-edited with Sam Cohen (Missouri). It took place at The Wonder Inn in Manchester (now, very sadly, no more) and included my introductory talk about the book, followed by live music, punk poetry, short story readings, physical theatre and a DJ set.
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