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Nuance and Nuisance: On the Village Voice
On the Village Voice
Pioneering Voice journalists from before my time, such as Mary Perot Nichols (of Robert Moses and the Mob) and Jill Johnston (a second-wave feminist with a near-stream-of-consciousness style), command their own chapters, as do some people I knew, like the densely allusive Greg Tate (1957–2021) and the dogged Wayne Barrett (1945–2017), who was one of the first biographers of both Rudy Giuliani and Donald Trump. Lucian K. Truscott IV, who started writing for the Voice fresh out of West Point (Fancher served under his grandfather in World War II), regrets the fact that, in his coverage of the 1969 Stonewall riots (the bar was on the same block as the paper’s watering hole, the Lion’s Head), he used the phrase “forces of faggotry” right in the lede. Of my novel’s overtly lyrical finale, composed as a single forty-four-page sentence, the dean of American rock critics writes: “Its impassioned rhythms—so unlike most newspaper rhythms, though at the Voice sometimes we tried—bespeak Mr. Park’s deep-down belief that white-collar laborers needn’t lead alienated lives.” Sometimes we did try.
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