Today is the 68th birthday of T. C. Boyle, although, as my title suggests, I prefer his adopted middle name (he was born Thomas John, but what sort of name is that for an artist?).
He burst on the literary scene in 1983 with Water Music, perhaps not his best novel but the one that’s the most fun. Since then, he has skewered his (and my, of course) generation as well as major American figures from sex researchers (Kinsey) to architects (Frank Lloyd Wright, although there was plenty of sexual exploration there, too). He and Louise Erdrich are probably the two contemporaries on whose work I’ve leaned most heavily over the years. Their debut novels (hers was Love Medicine, published the year after his) are among the most audacious in the last half-century.
His Paris Review interview is linked here: