Free Online Library: Leaving the Atocha Station.(Book review) by “Chicago Review”; Arts, visual and performing Literature, writing, book reviews Books Book . This week’s book giveaway is Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner which has just been released by ARC received for free from Coffee House Press. Read “Leaving the Atocha Station” by Ben Lerner with Rakuten Kobo. Adam Gordon is Get $5 off your first eBook; Get your first audiobook for free. Sign in with.

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This audiobook can be listened to on: Was he, I wondered, just facing the wall to hide his face as he dealt with whatever grief he’d brought into the museum? Leaving the Atocha Station is his first novel. There But For The. The Lives of Others. I bought most of the beer and I was also buying my hash from Jorge, who radically overcharged.

In prose that veers between the comic and tragic, the self-contemptuous and the inspired, Leaving the Atocha Station is a portrait of the artist as a young man in an age of Google searches, pharmaceuticals, and spectacle.

Leaving the Atocha Station

In the Light of What We Know. I could taste the blood from atofha mildly cut lip and I bit hard to deepen the cut so that I would appear more injured and therefore solicit sufficient sympathy to offset the damage my smiling had done. From my apartment I would walk down Calle de las Huertas, nodding to the street cleaners in their lime-green jumpsuits, cross El Paseo del Prado, enter the museum, which was only a couple of euros with my international student id, and proceed directly to room 58, where I positioned myself in front of Roger Van der Weyden’s Descent from the Cross.


I almost never spoke, although I tried to smile, and to imply with my smile that I understood what was being said around me, letting it fluctuate as though in reaction to their speech.

Signs Preceding the End of the World. I really wasn’t at all impressed by this book. A Sport and a Pastime. Please review your cart. A House for Mr Biswas.

Ben Lerner | excerpt of Leaving the Atocha Station

You submitted the following rating and leeaving. I was irritated and tried to find another canvas for my morning ritual, but was too accustomed to the painting’s dimensions and blues to accept a substitute.

Adam Gordon is a brilliant, if highly unreliable, young American poet on a prestigious fellowship in Madrid, struggling to establish his sense of self and his relationship to art. I walked out of the ensuing silence down to the lake and began to wash my face.

Is poetry an essential There were a few pages that took my interest, and it wasn’t too long so I was able to keep going to the end. No, cancel Yes, report it Thanks! When the coffee was ready I would open the skylight, which was just big enough for me to crawl through if I stood on the bed, and drink my espresso and smoke on the roof overlooking the plaza where tourists congregated with their guidebooks on the metal tables and the accordion player plied his trade.

Miguel allowed Jorge to pull him away and calm him down. What is actual when our experiences are mediated by language, technology, medication, and the arts?


Moving Forward Sideways Like a Crab.

This startled the guard into alertness and our eyes met, mine saying that this had happened in the other gallery, the guard’s communicating his struggle to determine whether the man was crazy—perhaps the kind of man who would damage a painting, spit on it or tear it from the wall or scratch it with a key—or if the man was having a profound experience of art.

No, cancel Yes, report it Thanks! Your display name should be at least 2 characters long. Out came the handkerchief and the man walked calmly into 56, stood before The Garden of Earthly Delightsconsidered it calmly, then totally lost his shit.

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He was standing exactly where I normally stood and for a moment I was startled, as if beholding myself beholding the painting, although he thd thinner and darker than I. August 23, Imprint: A Manual for Cleaning Women. How to write a great review.

A Manual for Cleaning Women. Then I statiion that I had been smiling my smile, just holding it there, paying no attention, while one of Jorge’s friends, Isabel, was telling what must have been a tragic story or confessing something painful, at least her voice was quiet and her tears were catching firelight.