Tapestry | James Salter
James Salter
Last Night
Walter Such was a translator. He liked to write with a green fountain pen that he had a habit of raising in the air slightly after each sentence, almost as if his hand were a mechanical device.
The Art of Fiction No. 133
James Salter is a consummate storyteller. His manners are precise and elegant; he has a splendid New York accent; he runs his hands through his gray hair and laughs boyishly.
Charisma
Men don’t have to have looks. It’s not that. Cecily and her friend were talking about it, sitting on the couch together away from the party, with their legs tucked beneath them like two young girls.
Evening Falls
A few nights ago at dinner, they were talking about an ardent young feminist. She was good-looking, with long hair, and went around in tight jeans and high calf-leather boots.
A Sport and a Pastime
Dean drives in cool excitement, in the electric hush of tires. He has a hard-on half the time and wonders if there will be any trouble registering in the hotel.
Odessa Mon Amour
Isaac Babel was stocky with a broad, kindly face and a forehead creased with horizontal lines. He wore steel-rimmed glasses, like a bookworm or an accountant, and had a soft, high-pitched voice with a slight lisp.
Last Night
In his memoirs, Gods of Tin and Burning the Days, the clarity of Salter’s prose makes dogfights over South Korea immediate on the page. In Last Night, the flights are of pursuer and pursued...
Palm Court
Among the contemporary masters of the short story, none surpasses James Salter.
Exclusive First Read: 'All That Is' By James Salter
Featured in NPR
Bowman had been in London for the Book Fair, and his homeward flight had been delayed. He landed in New York at nine in the evening. It was half an hour before he had his bags and went out to get a cab.
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