H is for Nathaniel Hawthorne. Rather than for Hemingway.

G is for William Gaddis. The Gaddis of The Recognitions as I still have to finish JR.

Zaterdagmiddag. Warm. Zon. Meer dan 20 graden. Nauwelijks wind. Nazomer. Nog verkouden. Wel rijden.

Marcusstraat – Diemerpark – Muiden – Uitermeer – Googpad – Ankeveen – Spanderswoud – Corversbos – Lambertskade – Vreeland – kanaal – Gaasp – Bijlmer – Marcusstraat

F is for Raymond Federman, I translated The Voice in the Closet. Hence no Faulkner whose work I find difficult.

E is for Dave Eggers? I have not read enough Emerson, Steve Erickson, Ralph Ellison, and nothing by Stanley Elkin or Louise Erdrich.

D is for Don Delillo. Sure there’s Samuel Delany, and there’s Mark Z. Danielewski. But I keep gravitating towards Delillo’s early novels.

Fikse westenwind – gelukkig, want bar slechte conditie (verkouden, kuchen). Mooi weer. Net voor Oudewater kwamen me 3 wielrenners tegemoet die heel wat harder reden, ze waren me 10 meter voorbij toen ik hoorde roepen: “Arie!”

C should be for Robert Creeley. Favorite poet, rhythm-wise. Could be for the writings of John Cage as well.

B is for William S Burroughs. His deadpan prose. His attitude towards language. The experimentation. Barth, Barthelme, Brautigan come after.

A is for Paul Auster. His early books. Because at the time I loved them. More so than Abish, Adler, Antrim. And I have not read Henry Adams.