elizabeth gilbert
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Good Riddance to the Goodbye-to-New-York Essay
Joan Didion’s “Goodbye to All That” has spawned a new literary genre: the personal screed about loving (or leaving) New York City.
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The Great G.A.N.
Does the “Great American Novel” actually exist—or is it just the name of a book by Philip Roth? Over at the New Yorker, you can read Adam Gopnik’s review of The Dream of the Great American Novel by Laurence Buell, and you can…
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Tournament of Books X Begins!
Get ready for the Morning News’s tenth annual Tournament of Books, a “March Madness–style battle royale” to determine which work of fiction will reign supreme (though the site is careful to note that the competition “is not an attempt to…
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Notable Chicago 10/27–11/2
Sunday 10/27: Every week, you’re invited to join poets and spectators alike for the Uptown Poetry Slam. This is where slam poetry began and where it continues to grow. 7 PM, $6, The Green Mill. Monday 10/28: If you’ve been…
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“I Might Really Geek Out Here, Dude”
In 2005, Elizabeth Gilbert was a mid-list author with some fiction and some journalism under her belt. In 2006, she tried something new and published a memoir, Eat, Pray, Love. The rest is history and Oprah Book Club sales. Now she’s returned…
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McSweeney’s Saves Thanksgiving
Already overwhelmed by thoughts of Thanksgiving? Want a menu that teeters on the line of conventional and culturally innovative? Look no further than McSweeney’s Thanksgiving Gallimaufry! The online booklet features recipes from their cookbooks, At Home on the Range by…
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The Rumpus Interview with Elizabeth Gilbert
This is how I think of it: there’s a contract between you and the mystery. And the mystery is the thing that brings life to the work.
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The Finest Wife
When Rose was sixteen years old and five months pregnant, she won a beauty pageant in South Texas, based on her fine walk up a runway in a sweet navy-blue bathing suit. This was shortly before the war. She had…
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The Last Book I Loved: The Last American Man
It’s easy to write off one author based on a best-seller. Call it jealousy, call it high-end literary disdain, call it whatever you want, but it’s easy to give in to the impulse to distrust something once it’s become popular.…