Luc Sante

I always see Luc Sante's name everywhere, but had no idea who he really was. Turns out he's an essayist. Born in Belgium, but a Noo Yawka all his life and by temperament. I was feeling larky, so when buying my odd assortment of Xmas Amazon goodies for people, I tossed in his newish collection called Kill All Your Darlings (I think; left it at home).

Now, I've only read about fifty pages, but it sort of rates a colossal so what? from me. I admire the fact he's employed often by the New York Review of Books (of which, I thought recently, I've never seen a copy) and teaches at Bard College. But he's not very interesting. Unless, and here's the thing, I'm dumb and am missing subtle nuances that make the true intellects cluck wryly to themselves. This could well be. But he does things like writing intros to collections of Francesco Clemente paintings and such, so someone must think he's all that.

Also, though the picture above has a 1997-ish "make me look like a Gerhard Richter painting" vibe to it, he makes me think of this guy: