I found that curious sentiment in a Joyce Carol Oates review in the New York Review of Books of the latest work by James Ellroy, the celebrated author of contemporary hard-boiled noir crime novels. Ellroy said it, and here's more of it:
Spring in Roma--who gives a shit? My publisher booked me a boss hotel suite....I pulled the curtains and anchored them with heavy chairs. I had an epiphany and began reading the Gideon Bible placed in the nightstand drawer.
I got half way through the Old testament. Cancer cells started eating at me....
Ellroy was an equal opportunity critic:
I turned to my secretary, this one a blonde in a clinging lime satin dress, and asked her to google "Spring in Roma--who gives a shit?" Maybe I'd dig up a lead. Moments later, she turned those red lips on me and gave me the skinny. Google's response: "Did you mean Spring in Rome--who gives a shit?"
Bill
Title: Spring in Roma--who gives a shit?
Rating: 100% based on 99998 ratings. 5 user reviews.
Author 1:24 AM
Rating: 100% based on 99998 ratings. 5 user reviews.
Author 1:24 AM
