I'll Be Your Mirror: Essays and Aphorisms

I'll Be Your Mirror: Essays and Aphorisms

I'll Be Your Mirror: Essays and Aphorisms

I'll Be Your Mirror: Essays and Aphorisms

Synopsis

In his third book of essays, David Lazar blends personal meditations on sex and death with considerations of popular music and coping with anxiety through singing, bowling, and other distractions. He sets his work apart as both in the essay and of the essay by throwing himself into the form's past--interviewing or speaking to past masters and turning over rocks to find lost gems of the essay form.

I'll Be Your Mirror further expands the dimensions of contemporary nonfiction writing by concluding with a series of aphorisms. Surreal, comical, and urban moments of being, they are part Cioran, part Kafka, and part Lenny Bruce. These are accompanied by Heather Frise's illustrations, whose looking-glass visions of motherhood--funny and grotesque--meet the vision of the aphorist in this most unusual nonfiction book.

Excerpt

When O.J. Simpson was leading the police on the errant chase on that freeway in la, I was in Madison Square Garden in New York, at the famous Knicks playoff game where the monitors switched to the chase, to our astonishment, but it didn’t register as surreally or wildly as it might have otherwise because I had been in the middle of telling my brother about Ann.

I was a young professor, thirty-seven, and she was an older doctoral student, thirty-four, and we had fallen for each other, and I thought it was going to be a big deal, in the way you know that someone is going to come into your life and the tectonics are going to change. I thought she might just be the girl for me, excuse the language, and was all aquiver in telling my brother the news, must have felt, I suppose in thinking back on it now, rather certain about my feelings, and about it, which is to say the prospects of where this new thing was headed.

Ann killed herself about a year and a half ago. the details are vague because no one seems terribly willing to yield them up. She had attempted suicide a few years before, slitting her wrists, but she was discovered or didn’t quite go through with it—I’m not quite remembering which. It was serious enough for hospitalization—terrible, terrible, but not life-threatening, at least not the cuts.

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