Vladimir Nabokov dedicated every novel he wrote the same way: "to Vera." This weekend, the Russian magazine Snob is publishing a selection of love letters from Vladimir to his wife over a fifty-year period (she burned her half of the correspondence).
Literary longshot: Jaimy Gordon's surprising National Book Award win for her horse-racing novel, Lord of Misrule, is perhaps even more inspiring than the Seabiscuit story. The book was ignored before it was nominated for America's most prestigious literary prize, and as the New York Times reports, even afterwards it only received two reviews—one in The Daily Racing Form.
Sloane Crosley, the Vintage and Anchor publicist famous for her sassy memoirs I Was Told There'd Be Cake and How Did you Get This Number is saying "See ya!" to the publicity grind, so she can concentrate on writing full-time. Crosley announced in an email to her colleagues, "I will phantom-limb miss this place but I very much look forward to keeping in touch."
There's a predictably ridiculous culture-war skirmish going on over Obama's children's book, Of Thee I Sing; meanwhile, Sarah Palin is under the impression that it is illegal to write about her book before it comes out.
Tonight at the KGB bar, Jennifer Gilmore will be reading from her novel Something Red as part of NYU's emerging-writers series.
