Kennedy, Saunders…Trump

A thousand apologies, Cate Kennedy and George Saunders, for linking the ‘T’ name with your own, forgiven*, I hope, by the ever-handy ellipsis.

In my last interview post with one of Australia’s national treasures, writer Cate Kennedy, (scroll down, scroll down; wait! read this first) Cate mentioned George Saunders’ short story collection Tenth of December as a favourite read.

Lr_George_jpg_1647868e‘Tenth of December’, the story after which the collection takes its name, was first published in the New Yorker in October, 2011, and is available to read online (legally, I hasten to add) via

It’s a knock-your-socks-off work. Trust me.

Speaking of Trust Me soothsayers, the infamous Donald Trump recently caught the attention of the aforementioned George Saunders, who also writes as an essayist for the New Yorker. For those flummoxed, intrigued, entertained or rendered aghast by the curious unfolding of the American political stage, Saunders attended a Donald Trump political rally to find out, Who are all these Trump Supporters?

*If not, may the fleas of a thousand camels infest my armpits…




4 thoughts on “Kennedy, Saunders…Trump

  1. Synchronicity–I was reading Saunder’s New Yorker article this morning, then saw your blog entry tonight. I find the Trump phenomenon unfathomable, and I keep telling myself he can’t possibly win. But seeing the crowds that come to his rallies, I’m not confident about my assertion.


  2. I actually tried to get press credentials to get to the Republican Convention to write more about the Trump supporters, some of which are reserved for non-traditional media such as bloggers. But it turned out I was a couple of weeks too late. I suppose I could still get to Cleveland. Having trouble finding the humor anymore anyway though. I’m still in shock that his support is anywhere higher than 10-15 percent of the population.


    • Hello, Mr Rotting Post,
      Thanks for your remarks. Your growing concern mirrors my own and, is my sense, that of many onlookers. It’s playing out like a joke that has soured. Make that curdled.


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