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Welcome!Believe it or not, this is the Dan Akst home page. Here you'll find samples of my work (I'm a scribe, if that isn't immediately obvious from this cobby page), some background about me and "news" of my most recent book, The Webster Chronicle. You'll also find some recommended reading (and viewing, if you're so inclined). You'll even get a chance to join the wise millions who've already bought copies of my books. And of course, this page will make it easy for you to get hold of me. Just click here to drop me some email. I hope you enjoy whatever you find here, but remember, it's all copyright (and just about all of it has appeared in print somewhere), so don't get any ideas. Photo: Ken Locker |
What's New?I recently completed a stint as a public policy scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center in Washington, where I got to spend four months studying the extent to which government can save us from ourselves. I was looking at paternalism as part of a larger project on self-regulation arising from my essay (Who's In Charge?) in the Wilson Quarterly. The Wilson Center is a joy, as were my colleagues, and I gained a lot of insight that I hope to put to good use in a forthcoming book. Ever wonder why most Americans look like slobs? Check out my longish essay on this very topic; it faults people for outsourcing the job of looking good to a mercenary elite (known as 'celebrities') and calls for a democratization of appearances. Each of us can do our part; I for one promise to shave more often. I've had a couple of pieces in Slate recently, one on the usefulness of jock straps (it's a short piece for a reason) and the other on cost-effective ways to make up for all the fossil fuel you burn. And in the Boston Globe, I had this moving account of my own deep spirituality. Then there's my impossibly erudite essay on the seemingly collective nature of modern innovation, for the quarterly In Character, which devotes its current issue to creativity. Now if I were more creative, I'd have another novel done by now. I do lots of other journalism, too, some more recent examples of which (from the Wilson Quarterly, the Wall Street Journal and other high-toned outfits) I've added to the site under Writings. Meanwhile you can still get a copy of The Webster Chronicle, my most recent offering. When it came out The Atlantic Monthly carried a learned and sensitive (read: favorable) review, and even took the trouble to rehabilitate my previous novel, which the magazine was virtually alone in disliking. Unfortunately, WebChron, as we cutting edge types like to call it, hit the stores Sept. 27, 2001--yes, the Day of Atonement, just 16 days after 9/11--from a new imprint of Penguin Putnam called Blue Hen, a horseracing term for a progenitor of champions. Penguins and horses apparently being incompatible, the imprint is now dead, but the novel is still available at Amazon.com, where you should rush credit card in hand. And what, you may ask, is the book about? Well, The Webster Chronicle deals with a bizarre fever that possesses a small town during a single interminable winter in the 1980s, although it sometimes seems more like the 1680s. Special bonus for Freudians: an Oedipal subplot on almost every page! The book also had a warm reception at Publishers Weekly, which suddenly elevated St. Burl's Obituary, my previous novel, to the status of "masterful" (now they tell us!) before calling The Webster Chronicle "complex" and "thought-provoking," with a "memorable protagonist" who is "wise, flawed, and all too deeply human." The Washington Post, in keeping with its reputation for perspicacity, liked the book too, calling it "shrewd" and "unsettling," and concluding by saying: "Our finest authors force us to face our own bad intentions; Daniel Akst is a master at doing so". The Cleveland Plain Dealer, another early-reporting precinct, called the first half of WebChron "a masterpiece of literary style combined with superb pacing," and the Grand Rapids Press, invoking Flaubert (I'm not kidding), said: "There are, undoubtedly, similar witch hunts to come. How important, then, that the Daniel Aksts of the world tell their cautionary tales to keep us mindful." The San Francisco Chronicle, which seems to regard the book as a magnificent failure, observes nonetheless that "quiet insights are sprinkled throughout, as is Akst's lively prose and flashes of humor, a welcome relief given the somberness of the subject matter yet a far cry from the rollicking nature of his debut novel." The Knoxville paper got the title slightly wrong, but hey, it's publicity! Ok, enough about the book. Regular readers of this page (take a bow, you two) will be pleased to learn that our famously strange house is still standing. You can read my epic account of its construction (no, it's not in verse) in Money Magazine, which published it as a three-part series. For those who want the executive summary, the place turned out pretty well, and in the proof-that-there-is-a-God department, not a single episode of homicide, bankruptcy or divorce is attributable to the project. So far. Grub StreetThe typing continues. My previous book, St. Burl's Obituary can easily be purchased from Amazon.com. The book was a PEN/Faulkner finalist (even though I missed the banquet because my wife went into labor with our twins), and was well and widely reviewed, except by the estimable Phoebe Lou Adams of The Atlantic, who hated it. The German edition (from Deuticke) seems to be doing reasonably well, and a Hebrew edition (Prague Press) won prominent and favorable reviews over there. I was even interviewed by Ma'ariv! I also write commentaries and essays for the Wall Street Journal and others. And I remain a book reviewing fiend. See About the Author for more of this sort of thing, or check out the fiction, journalism and essays on my Writings page, where you'll find samples of my work. Who's Dan Akst?If you've read this far, you've probably already heard more than you want to know, but check out About the Author for all the dope. There's even a resume, if you're considering me for Poet Laureate or something. Contact InfoYou can always email me using my last name at citlink.net, or send something (preferably a check) to my agent: Sloan Harris
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