The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
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The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
“Bird,” he cried, “I come on behalf of the emperor. Your voice is all anyone speaks of.”
Investigating the whiplash-inducing dialogue that has characterized Gilmore Girls, which returns this week.
On the 20th anniversary of the Spice Girls' first album, I reflect on two decades of defending their commercial approach to feminism.
You can stare at something for a decade and still not see it for what it is. Like, say, your therapist, whose charming spiritual community might be a cult.
Speaking with the author of the Neapolitan Quartet novels and Frantumaglia about why readers have trouble with challenging portrayals of women, the supposed sin of narcissism, and smoking cigarettes.
Leonard Cohen was our man, a guy who joked about eternal life and died a month later.