I’m a promiscuous lover of books. I treat each one as if it’s the only—there will never be another after, there were none before. This is the last book I read and the last book I loved.
Why do so many of us, as readers or maybe as a society, assume that originality springs forth out of nothing, although at the same time we understand that every idea, every story, has a precedent?
This past week’s pro football storylines were, in a word, beautiful. First of all, before the games even began, there was the matter of Rush Limbaugh wanting to become an…
Lovers of contemporary experimental music will likely remember the moment in the early eighties when John Cage, the godfather of minimalism and of most New York City experimental music, referred…
The folks at Greencine posted an interview with Michael Stulhbarg, the star of the new Coen Brothers movie A Serious Man. In the interview, Greencine and Stulbarg gab about how…
My husband enjoys scuba diving. Prior to meeting my present spouse, I had never entertained the notion of going diving, as it combines three things I generally try to avoid:…
When I read a few dozen I Remembers in Joe Brainard’s I Remember, my brain starts mining itself without me telling it to. The canonical memories come first, but these…
I would not say to everyone, “You must read Amy Fusselman’s 8“, and I would not say, “You will love it!” I would however say to most anyone, “You will…