Tag: fiction
Dear God: “Nat Turner in Jerusalem” Arrives Off-Broadway
A harrowing scene from America's past, still alive in our present.
“Vinegar Girl”: Anne Tyler Tames the “Shrew”
American novelist determined to remake outmoded Shakespeare.
“Harry Potter” in the West End: A Hogwarts Report Card
Mostly good grades. But room for improvement.
Star-Spangled Slavery and the Great American Novel
Natashia Deón has come to bear witness.
Sinclair Lewis, Donald Trump: Yes, It Can Happen Here
A provocative 1935 novel as a cautionary tale for the 2016 election.
The Book as We Know It Is Dead. Here’s Why.
The thing that we typically call a book is a relatively new phenomenon.
The End?: The Illusion of Ambiguous Endings
Part of the human experience is to create a narrative arc out of one’s own life.
If He Only Had a Heart, This Would Be His Play
A story of a man losing his humanity and (perhaps) his capacity for love.
Adam Sisman’s “John le Carré” Spies on David Cornwell
David Cornwell: still determining his true identity.
Brave New Girl: Re-Imagining the Dystopian Tradition
By imagining the future of humanity, we study what it means to be human now.
Remembering the Brilliant Stories of Mavis Gallant
"The New Yorker" fiction writer, who died last year, is unfairly too obscure.
Agatha Christie Writes Again, Kinda
The Christie estate happily authorizes Sophie Hannah's new Hercule Poirot.
A Portrait of Norman Mailer as a Visual Artist
"What began as doodles on a small pad by the phone had evolved into something more serious."
Rik Mayall dies; Sexism in YA Fiction; Reynolds High Shooting
A round-up of relevance for June 10, 2014
To Philip Seymour Hoffman, With Gratitude and Anger
Was he really "the greatest actor of his generation"?
A Gifted Phantom Shunning a Self-Absorbed Society
A startling documentary sheds light on a deeply scarred life.
RIP RGB, RIP GOP, RIP USA
None of the second-rate white men currently on the Supreme Court will receive the honors given to RBG when they finally die.
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Herman Cain (and Republicans Unable)
And then there was Jerry Falwell, Jr., with his open pants, evangelical FUPA and his hands veering into prime side-boob territory with -- hey, doesn't she have a name?
