Anxiety Anxiety
Cat claws on the heart’s tin roof, each breath a locomotive running off the rails, the switching signal’s warning rat-a-tat, I’m up too early, the alphabet net snags and tears, mot…
Feb 9, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Cynthia Zarin
The Rise and Resilience of Black Lives Matter The Rise and Resilience of Black Lives Matter
Wesley Lowery’s new book charts the origins of a movement
Feb 9, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Nathalie Baptiste
Marx’s Revenge Marx’s Revenge
He may have lived a 19th-century life, but his ideas keep coming back with a vengeance.
Feb 8, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Benjamin Kunkel
Jane Jacobs’s Radical Vision of Humanity Jane Jacobs’s Radical Vision of Humanity
For the great urbanist and social critic, the planning of cities was always an ad hoc affair.
Feb 3, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow
That It Might Save, or Drown Them That It Might Save, or Drown Them
I have seen how the earth erodes differently from the way that trust does. Likewise, I know what it means, to come to love all over again the very mistakes I also know, looking bac…
Feb 2, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Carl Phillips
Blue Wash on Linen Canvas, Believed Unfinished Blue Wash on Linen Canvas, Believed Unfinished
And he woke again like a thief undetected, invisible therefore, and therefore free. The bronze horse’s hoof stood raised for apparently ever about to trample beneath it the cross o…
Feb 2, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Carl Phillips
Adam Thirlwell on the Many Moods of Henry Green Adam Thirlwell on the Many Moods of Henry Green
For the English novelist, life itself was a deadly business.
Feb 2, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Adam Thirlwell
Who Will Fund Investigative Reporting in the Age of Trump? Who Will Fund Investigative Reporting in the Age of Trump?
Anya Schiffrin reviews a new book on the history and economics of investigative journalism.
Feb 1, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Anya Schiffrin
Silver Spoon Ode Silver Spoon Ode
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and a silver knife, and a silver fork. I would complain about it—the spoon was not greasy, it tasted like braces, my shining access to c…
Jan 19, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Sharon Olds
Letting My Hair Down Letting My Hair Down
And then my wry neck got so wry— chicken-neck wring-wry—I had to spend time with my hair down, like roots into the ground of the air, my visible shock, my “terror,” my “horror.” Ho…
Jan 19, 2017 / Books & the Arts / Sharon Olds