I continue to thumb through the second-hand copy of Clayton Eshelman's Caterpillar Anthology (1971) I picked up at the People's Co-op Bookstore earlier this year.
Last night I came upon Richard Grossinger's review of The Graduate (1967), which opened so gently I couldn't put it down:
When Simon and Garfunkel first sang "Sounds of Silence" and cars in urban night and along dark country roads heard it on their way to other places, and the song was number one, and nothing had happened but everything was about to happen…
It was their destination; it was an unknown lyrical haze into which they were moving, regardless of where they were or thought they were or were going, regardless of where they parked and continued on foot...
This morning I Googled "Richard Grossinger" and read about someone who sounded like I thought I might sound once to someone looking back on me after all these years. (I too studied anthropology at university, but I am not the father of Miranda July.)
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