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msarki

M Sarki

Besides being a poet with four collections published, M Sarki is a painter, film maker, and photographer. He likes fine coffee and long walks. 

M Sarki has written, directed, and produced six short films titled Gnoman's Bois de Rose, Biscuits and Striola , The Tools of Migrant Hunters, My Father's Kitchen, GL, and Cropped Out 2010. More details to follow. Also the author of the feature film screenplay, Alphonso Bow.

Currently reading

Brett Whiteley: Art, Life and the Other Thing
Ashleigh Wilson
Girlfriends, Ghosts, and Other Stories
Annette Wiesner, Nicole Kongeter, Robert Walser, Tom Whalen
The Lesser Bohemians
Eimear McBride
My Life and Loves
John F. Gallagher, Frank Harris
Melbourne Beach and Indialantic Florida
Frank J. Thomas
Writing Dangerously: Mary McCarthy and Her World
Stephen Black, Carol Brightman
Seduction and Betrayal: Women and Literature
Elizabeth Hardwick, Joan Didion
My Friend Annabel Lee (1903)
Mary MacLane
Human Days: A Mary MacLane Reader
Bojana Novakovic, Michael R. Brown, Mary MacLane
Stranger Shores: Essays 1986-1999
J.M. Coetzee

Shame and Wonder: Essays

Shame and Wonder: Essays - David Searcy http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/145765241683/shame-and-wonder-essays-by-david-searcy

Burned Again by Blurbs

In my mind the only activity better than abandoning the reading of this book would be me writing about the whys and wherefores of my sudden flight. In addition, of course, I am factoring in the fight quotient as rarely do I have nothing left to say in any thoughtful argument. Shame and Wonder by David Searcy did begin with some promise with the very first essay collected here. And it happened, as the story goes, to be the first one he ever wrote. But from then on it was tiresome reading about this vastness of space, his cerebral idiosyncrasies, his girlfriend Nancy and her sketchbook with no previous frame of reference for where she even came from. I’d like to think his ex-wife better fodder. But I do I love a great personality entering the picture. The problem with putting yourself and loved ones into your work however is the risk that nobody will like you. Or too many will find your character a bit too much for embarking on a book-length relationship. I am already pretty sure I do not like David, or his girlfriend Nancy, and even if a few essays down the road there would have been a chance I might find something redeeming in them both is simply not in the cards for me. I am already reading [b:Writing Dangerously: Mary McCarthy And Her World|125844|Writing Dangerously Mary McCarthy And Her World|Carol Brightman|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391897237s/125844.jpg|121209], a painfully boring autobiography about [a:Mary McCarthy|7305|Mary McCarthy|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1254084720p2/7305.jpg], and I intend on finishing it even it it damages me permanently. I also have [b:Don Quixote|3835|Don Quixote|Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1407710790s/3835.jpg|121842] going at the same time and it is proving to be a bit unbelievable and too silly of a knight-errant adventure for me. But reading the essays by Searcy was supposed to be fun and interesting. He had been compared by his blurb-writing buddies to [a:Geoff Dyer|2279|Geoff Dyer|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1327272389p2/2279.jpg], [a:John Jeremiah Sullivan|22899|John Jeremiah Sullivan|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1321052260p2/22899.jpg], and quite ludicrously even the name of [a:W. G. Sebald|14982514|W. G. Sebald|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png] was evoked to my now-unforgiving consternation resulting in this literary diatribe. I am so exhausted by these jacket blurbs lying to us and promising works that have little chance of succeeding their lofty ideals. They must think we’re stupid readers and want to believe anything, and often I expect they are right. Always, I am seriously looking for an essayist like Geoff Dyer. Hell, I even look for Geoff Dyer in Geoff Dyer because these days I feel even he has gone missing in most of his latest work. But to invoke Sebald in a wish to sell more copies to us fools has gone a bit too far in my estimation. The only relationship I can find to W.G. Sebald is Searcy’s position on my book shelf sitting right beside him. At least until I can get the damn thing sold. Chances are another fool, like me, is born.