When Mike Pence turned to shake my hand Saturday morning in New Hampshire, one of the most absurd events in my life began to unfold.
In what feels like four novels in one, James Baldwin covers everything he knows about how internalized social opprobrium can warp our capacity to love. It’s… a lot.
The human condition includes the need to be heard, and for many of us who can type, writing is one channel to speak that need.
A rollicking posthumous novel with a very Jewish punchline for its parable: Yes, everyone is kind of a schmuck. But we’re required to love them anyway. And isn’t that funny?
Like fairy tales for mad children, the stories of Leonora Carrington are as packed with strangeness and complete imaginative freedom as her paintings.
Primo Levi is best remembered as one of the great novelists of the Holocaust; he was one of the few Italian Jews sent to Auschwitz who survived, and he wrote about it
In an era of boring mass media, we need creative weirdness more than ever. “Music is Over!” gets weird. But weird is probably what we most need right now.
There are a handful of verses in the Koran and also a book by Salman Rushdie called “The Satanic Verses”. I want to talk about both.
A recovered Constance DeJong novel from late 70s NYC that overflows its banks and exhausts all possibilities without exhausting the reader like many experimental novels do.
“Desktop covid dividers and a refrigerator was “to be recycled.” But the five books deemed inappropriate were “to be destroyed.”
Berg seems to go through a crisis of his own. Does he really want to kill this stranger? Or does he want to seduce the man’s mistress?
Turgenev’s first novel tells of a common type: the brilliant intellectual who could have changed the world, if only he’d get out of his own way.
Because, like all great books on music, David Keenan is really writing about us, nudging us in the ribs, and saying Hey, do you remember…
It’s hard to write about the South. Harry Crews’s first novel took a tone somewhere between the Grand Guignol and the Grand Ole’ Opry.
In John Williams great work of Western Noir, the one-big-heist goes wrong and flawed men become most fully themselves in failure, like all of us