Have you heard about Lorin Stein? Talented, ambitious, French-speaking bastard. 37 years old and to be the new editor of the Paris Review? So young! So accomplished! But has he ever written a first person young adult novel and nourished 2 babies for 5 months straight on breastmilk ALONE? Long ago, when he was alive, I got wasted on white wine at a book party at George Plimpton's house. The walls were dripping with whimsical caricatures drawn by oh, probably Picasso, Hirshfeld or W.C. Fields. The kitchen (where the wine was) was gigantic and filled with expensive pots and pans and thick white dishes. There were writers everywhere and some of them knew my name and couldn't wait to hear about what I was "working on" and who I was "studying with" and if I wanted "another glass of chardonnay." I thought that my life would be filled with hundreds and thousands of better and even more literary nights of debauchery. Little did I know that tipsy on a little corner couch, listening to him plink plonk on a baby grand, equally drunk with a fellow student would be a highlight of my so called literary life I would share, hardly ever, with anyone. Until now. Cheers Lorin- you firecracker.
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