Liars and Saints

  Before my senior year of college, I interned at Vintage Books; my boss was Russell Perreault, a bright, irascible man who had climbed up from very little (and who kept climbing, climbing, climbing). Russell loved books; he gave me three, when I met him. One was "Revolutionary Road," by Richard Yates, who has become "the artist of my life." I admire Yates's energy and his sense of humor, even in his "minor" novels ("A Good School," "Cold Spring Harbor"). Russell also gave me "What Makes Sammy Run" and "The Monk," a Gothic novel. I'm not sure I'll ever read "The Monk," but "Sammy" seems appealing to me, now that I'm in my forties and interested in Old Hollywood. Russell was known for having very little patience, and I think he realized (quickly) that I wasn't meant for a publicity department. I recall asking for Random House to cover my subway expenses; I could sense Russell...

Around fifteen years ago, I arrived in New York City from the pseudo-midwest. I knew nothing; I carried around George Eliot's "Silas Marner," hoping I could will myself to be interested. I ate fifteen-dollar pancakes at the Applejack Diner, in midtown. I had only a vague understanding that Manhattan extended--a bit--below Union Square. I wore pleated pants. My first boss--Russell Perreault--was an imperious gay man; I think he had willed himself out of some small town and invented his own life. He had a domestic partner and a house in Connecticut; he ran the publicity wing of Vintage Books. He was small and fast-talking, and he seemed to be a legend. I don't think Mr. Perreault took much of an interest in me or in my internship--the main duty I recall was sticking "Nominated for a National Book Award" badges on semi-obscure books, after nominations were announced--but I did learn a few things from Mr. Perreault: * If you yourself want to wear a bow...