dennis scharnberg

high grimes and mussed demeanors

Andrew Tertullian,  Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.

Self-absorption precludes self-scrutiny.  And that is the key to “postmodern” culture.

Ellison Malmo,  The Hermeneutics of Leveling.

“I’ve never known anyone who reminded me more of Sal Mineo.”  Sondra puzzled over Tom’s odd claim.  Was it a compliment to Andrew?  Or just more mockery?

Gladys Huizinga,  Hard-Luck Dennis.

In a world overflowing with words, the propositions of postmodernism make sense.  Or some of them do.  But that “world of words” is a mere artifact.  It depends completely on the ongoing status of a material well-being heretofore unimaginable (even fifty years ago).  And when that well-being cracks, then what?

Hill Boothby, Essays on Disappointment Management.

It could be said that the radical leftist [sought] exemption from the consequences of his own ideology.

Albrecht Beinz,  Climbing Out of Our Skin.

Here is a toast for them all: “To a mediocre hedonism!”

Bertrand Bartholomew,  A Confusion of Tongues.

“…up close, a clean new cardboard box smells like bile.”

Clive Ellis,  The Case of the Broken Handle.

“Down with water!” cried Eric.  And, once again, no one had the slightest idea what he meant.

Jason Starling, ed.,  Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.

Edward rolled his sleeves up differently this time.  It was part of his new commitment to avoid the merely mechanical.

Jed Honneger,  The Barca Boys.

The peculiar ignorance of the journalist is a nagging thing; it’s like a physical substance.

Ernest Ingram,  The Unclean Sweep.