Book-club cubs may come and go, in whatever splashy flavor-of-the-season form the current industry model allows, but big cats like Oates feel increasingly, distressingly rare: envoys from a vanishing world that once placed Great Authors at the center of a zeitgeist now endlessly splintered and atomized. Oates, who recently celebrated her 85th birthday, is of course very much one of them, among the last of a set of literary lions that lately seem (see Amis and Cormac McCarthy) to be leaving the planet with astonishing speed.
And her conversation comes dotted with offhand allusions to erstwhile friends and colleagues- Philip Roth, Toni Morrison, Martin Amis, Saul Bellow-that she occasionally refers to on a first-name basis, as if they were not in fact towering icons of 20th-century culture. On her mouth is a pleasingly vampish slash of lipstick the color of crushed blackberries in a guest bathroom, a vibrant portrait of Marilyn Monroe, inscribed to her from a novelist friend on the occasion of her fever-dream 2000 opus, Blonde, nestles next to a small, moody De Kooning sketch.
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She is avid to dissect the recent series finale of Succession (“I think I liked the penultimate episode best, the finale itself was more familiar stuff where they were just conniving”) and breezily dismisses a recent bout with COVID (“The strain I got was evidently very weak, it was really just a cold.”)īut small clues of her life and legacy-some 60-plus novels, along with a vast inventory of essays, short stories, plays, and poetry - soon begin to surface.
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Oates, who appears at the door in light walking shorts and one of those nylon baseball caps that generally come free with a book-fair tote bag, seems likewise unfussily removed from the idea of any high-goth priestess of the arts-gesturing happily to the fruits of her early summer garden and making fond introductions to her two house cats, a majestic but apprehensive Maine Coon and a smoky calico that immediately flops over and shows its belly. Could this dappled suburban idyll possibly contain the formidable figure renowned for more than half a century as our Dark Lady of Letters? So the vision that greets visitors at the entrance to her light-filled home near Princeton University, where she’s taught for more than four decades-a burbling frog pond, metallic lawn ornaments molded jauntily into oversize roses and a lone, red-combed rooster-conjures a momentary sense of disorientation.
They are putting the finishing touches on their 7th studio album to be released early 2023 to coincide with a world tour.įLC are Europe's best-loved "cousins from New York," whip-smart storytellers in smarter Saville Row suits who, through comically tall tales of living large in the neon metropolis via music, drugs, crime and existential ennui, launched a career in music.“Whimsy” is not a word often associated with Joyce Carol Oates, the five-time Pulitzer Prize finalist, social media provocateur, and notoriously prolific chronicler of America’s cracked, calamitous heart. FLC performed an infamously raucous set on the famous Pyramid main stage at Glastonbury '99 and the rest - as they say - is history.įun Lovin' Criminals have released six studio albums, two cover albums, one triple live album, and various best ofs. 'Scooby Snacks,' famed for sampling Tarantino movies such as Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, spent 17 weeks on the Billboard chart, quickly achieving gold status in the US.įUN LOVIN' CRIMINALS (with THE SLIM ELSEWHERE 599 JOHNSON AVEįun Lovin' Criminals are international hit makers located in the UK, where their multi-platinum debut album 'Come Find Yourself' spent an incredible two years in the UK album chart.
įun Lovin' Criminals' infectious blend of cinematic hip-hop, rock 'n' roll, blues-jazz, and latin-soul burst onto the New York music scene in 1996 with the release of the worldwide multi-platinum debut album 'Come Find Yourself' on EMI Records. This Friday, November 4 at 7:30 PM, the Fun Lovin' Criminals will appear LIVE at Elsewhere - The Hall located at 599 Johnson Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11237.
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