How the Movies Saved My Life How the Movies Saved My Life
Seeing the world in black and white (with subtitles).
Nov 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Tom Engelhardt
Hemispheric Disturbances: On Michael Gazzaniga Hemispheric Disturbances: On Michael Gazzaniga
If our brains act according to the causal laws governing all matter, in what sense can we be said to be free?
Nov 16, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Cathy Gere
Blue Ridge: Streams Are Roaring Blue Ridge: Streams Are Roaring
Morning in the shade of a persimmon tree. Later, downstream below a hornbeam. A shy man hollers from across the valley. Every other rhododendron flower holds a tiny bee, just the way each macaroni shell in pasta e fagioli eventually holds a bean. A little Italian goes well up here. Latin, too&emdash;castanea, ruficapilla, caroliniana: Paroles: Dogwood calls the catbirds. Black cherry calls the blue.
Nov 16, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Merrill Gilfillan
Shelf Life Shelf Life
José Luis Guerín’s In the City of Sylvia, Tanya Hamilton’s Night Catches Us, Martin Scorsese’s New York, New York.
Nov 16, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Akiva Gottlieb
Restless in Oslo: On Ida Ekblad and Edvard Munch Restless in Oslo: On Ida Ekblad and Edvard Munch
An obscure dissatisfaction, a sense that no formal solution works for long, is shared by the art of Ida Ekblad and Edvard Munch.
Nov 16, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Barry Schwabsky
Starting out in Seattle: On Jonathan Raban Starting out in Seattle: On Jonathan Raban
Jonathan Raban has made a persona out of the self that feels nowhere at home.
Nov 16, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Vivian Gornick
Confessions of an Unrepentant Exile Confessions of an Unrepentant Exile
Returning to Chile decades after Allende’s death, I was no longer a soldier of the revolution. What changed?
Nov 9, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Ariel Dorfman
Night Thoughts of a Baffled Humanist Night Thoughts of a Baffled Humanist
Punitive yet salvific, austerity is the ideology of a country that has turned against its own culture.
Nov 9, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Marilynne Robinson
slow poem slow poem
slow things heard in old songs sad songs sung by the sides of old inns dry roses clutched by a lover a wedding dress downriver you will ask them their names the women who remember will ask you in turn where you come from inside this small country you are writing a book it’s unfinished the evening enfolding you slowly a soreness in the fingers who are you they ask you will get in the car with the mirror with the silver flaking in the back the book will receive much criticism you knew it from the story the bride gone downriver where dusk pulls the sunset quarter after quarter so many have written they will ask you with roses will ask what to call you by the river where you come.
Nov 9, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Rodney Koeneke
Times Squared Times Squared
Jem Cohen’s Newsreel No. 1, Aki Kaurismäki’s Le Havre, Andrew Niccol’s In Time
Nov 9, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Stuart Klawans