![]() “He giggled gratifyingly at each chapter,” you told The New York Times, “which I found so inspiring, I have been collecting male muses ever since.” You’ve said that you wrote your first novel in the eighth grade for a boy you liked. He’s moved a few blocks away, into one of the city’s most notorious SROs. Her latest novel, The Astral, is about poet and sometime lothario Harry Quirk, 57, whose wife has just destroyed all the sonnets he’s been working on for years and, wrongly accusing him of having an affair with a friend of theirs, kicked him out of their Greenpoint (Brooklyn) apartment. After I praised them on the radio, she emailed me and we became friends, which is great because she’s a wonderful, smart, funny, generous person, but it’s also weird, because she’s one of my favorite living writers, and here she is, flesh and blood, moving through the world like the rest of us. I discovered Kate Christensen’s work several years ago, when I read The Great Man, and then all the rest of her books, in one weekend. ![]() Male Muses And Inner Dicks: A Conversation With Kate Christensen ![]()
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