Bøger af David Markson

David Markson was a writer like no other. In his novels, which have been called "hypnotic," "stunning," and "exhilarating" and earned him praise from the likes of Kurt Vonnegut and David Foster Wallace, Ann Beattie and Zadie Smith. Markson created his own personal genre. With crackling wit distilled into incantatory streams of thought on art, life, and death, Markson's work has delighted and astonished readers for decades.Now for the first time, three of Markson's masterpieces are compiled into one page–turning volume: This Is Not a Novel, Vanishing Point, and The Last Novel. In This Is Not a Novel, readers meet an author, called only "Writer," who is weary unto death of making up stories, and yet is determined to seduce the reader into turning pages and getting somewhere. Vanishing Point introduces us to "Author," who sets out to transform shoeboxes crammed with note cards into a novel. In The Last Novel, we find an elderly author (referred to only as "Novelist") who announces that, since this will be his final effort, he possesses "carte blanche to do anything he damn well pleases."United by their focus on the trials, calamities, absurdities and even tragedies of the creative life, these novels demonstrate David Markson's extraordinary intellectual richness—leaving readers, time after time, with the most indisputably original of reading experiences.

Before achieving critical acclaim as a novelist, David Markson paid the rent by writing several crime novels, including two featuring the private detective Harry Fannin. Together here in one volume, these works are now available to a new generation of readers.In Epitaph for a Tramp, Fannin isn't called out to investigate a murder ? it happens on his doorstop. In the sweltering heat of a New York August night, he answers the buzzer at his door to find his promiscuous ex?wife dying from a knife wound. To find her killer, Fannin plies his trade with classic hard?boiled aplomb. In the second novel, Epitaph for a Dead Beat, Fannin finds himself knee?deep in murder among the beatniks and bohemians of the early 1960s, where blood seems to flow as readily as cheap Chianti.Intricately plotted and rife with wisecracks, David Markson offers suspenseful and literary crime novels.

"Alive with the pleasures of language . . . terribly funny, formidably intelligent."--Washington Post

Although best known today for his singular, stunning "anti-novels" dazzlingly conjured from anecdotes, quotes, and small thoughts, in his early days David Markson paid the rent by writing punchy, highly dramatic fictions. On the heels of a new double edition of his steamy noirs "Epitaph for a Tramp" and "Epitaph for a Deadbeat" comes a new edition of his 1965 classic "The Ballad of Dingus Magee, " whose subtitle -- "Immortal True Saga of the Most Notorious and Desperate Bad Man of the Olden Days, his Blood-Shedding, his Ruination of Poor Helpless Females, & Cetera" -- gives readers a hint of the raucous sensibility at work here. Brimming with blasphemy, bullets, and bordellos, this hilarious tale, which inspired the Frank Sinatra movie "Dirty Dingus McGee, " shows the early Markson at his outrageous best, taking down, as "Playboy" put it, "the breeches of the Old West and blast[ing] what's exposed with buckshot."

Unlike David Markson's most recent works in experimental writing, Going Down is a more traditional effort, a dark and masterfully plotted narrative of passion and violence set in Mexico in the 1960s. Three Americans, a man and two women, are living together in obvious intimacy. Their habits, strange to the Mexicans, are strangest of all to themselves.When Fern Winters' attention is caught by movement behind a window in a run-down Greenwich Village apartment building, she can't suspect that her encounter with the apartment's occupant will eventually lead her to an abandoned chapel, in a tiny mountain village-clutching the bloody machete with which one of the three has been murdered.Going Down is a rarity among novels-brilliantly and poetically written, faultlessly constructed, centered on fully realized people-completely uninhibited in its depiction of startling eroticism.

In the literary world, there is little that can match the excitement of opening a new book by David Markson. From Wittgenstein's Mistress to Reader's Block to Springer's Progress to This Is Not a Novel, he has delighted and amazed readers for decades. And now comes his latest masterwork, Vanishing Point, wherein an elderly writer (identified only as "Author”) sets out to transform shoeboxes crammed with notecards into a novel - and in so doing will dazzle us with an astonishing parade of revelations about the trials and calamities and absurdities and often even tragedies of the creative life - all the while trying his best (he says) to keep himself out of the tale. Naturally he will fail to do the latter, frequently managing to stand aside and yet remaining undeniably central throughout - until he is swept inevitably into the narrative's startling and shattering climax. A novel of death and laughter both - and of extraordinary intellectual richness.