what we were doing and where we were going
what we were doing and where we were going by Damion Searls has been a very pleasant surprise. Searls surprises is what surprises, I suppose; the man is a “sharp, utterly confident writer” according to Ed Park.
Keith Gessen writes that “Literature is dead. Everyone knows that. And also–another thing everyone knows–all the great literature has already been written. But if we were somehow to begin bringing literature into the present day, we’d do it by updating, reimagining, rewriting, and then finally once and for all forgetting the past masters. That is what, in these funny, eclectic, and ultimately very contemporary stories, Damion Searls somehow manages to do.”
From the book:
The doorbell rang; only mailmen didn’t knock on the window, so I went downstairs. I was almost to the bottom when I remembered it was Sunday. It was a courier service, with a large package; I asked if I could sign for Lawrence, but it was for me.
Inside an oversized yellow envelope were two short notes folded in half, on the same stationery, and two large bundles rubberbanded together:
I am leaving with Lawrence for Buenos Aires. Please don’t try to follow us (ha!) I’m giving you back all our pictures and the poems you wrote for me. Good luck with your writing. Goodbye forever.
Angela and I are off. No hard feelings I hope. I can’t sell the house for tax reasons, so it’s yours to keep; enclosed herewith are the title and the necessary documents. Don’t forget to talk to a lawyer about the inheritance tax.
Yours ever, L.”