Then They Came for the Pensions Then They Came for the Pensions
Alter-reviews of French movies and some new tunes, Reed explains the secret war on pensions, and the mail.
Mar 4, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Eric Alterman
Wrinkles in Time: On Joanna Ruocco Wrinkles in Time: On Joanna Ruocco
For Joanna Ruocco, language is a multiplier of worlds, a portal to alternate realities.
Mar 3, 2011 / Books & the Arts / David Carroll Simon
An Accelerated Grimace: On Cyber-Utopianism An Accelerated Grimace: On Cyber-Utopianism
Clay Shirky's Cognitive Surplus is the latest monotonous revery about the Internet social revolution. Evgeny Morozov punctures that bubble.
Mar 3, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Chris Lehmann
A Signature Copy A Signature Copy
Abbas Kiarostami's Certified Copy; Matt Porterfield's Putty Hill; Patricio Guzmán's Nostalgia for the Light; J. Hoberman's new book, An Army of Phantoms
Mar 3, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Stuart Klawans
Walkouts, Payouts and Lockouts Walkouts, Payouts and Lockouts
Why the NFL's labor dispute should matter to you.
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Eric Alterman
The Upside of Censorship The Upside of Censorship
Sometimes the censor is art’s best friend.
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / JoAnn Wypijewski
Ronald Reagan Superstar Ronald Reagan Superstar
Reagan proved that deficits don't matter—and truth doesn't either.
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Eric Alterman
Selling History Short in Mississippi Selling History Short in Mississippi
Why is Haley Barbour so eager to turn Mississippi into a civil rights tourist attraction?
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Gary Younge
Where Hunger Goes: On the Green Revolution Where Hunger Goes: On the Green Revolution
Nick Cullather’s The Hungry World teaches us that US agricultural assistance in Asia during the cold war was a Green Counterrevolution.
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / David Rieff
Spring Spring
Larvae harden into adults, into the complexity of distinct anatomy— windowed wings, legs like stitches—tossing off the sodden blanket of the soft body, their innocence lisping over the pig, oomphs and fizzes forming a transcript of triumphs, but what does it mean to win, out here? Spring’s raffle: who will live, who’ll become distressed and wish for a place to climb in. I’m watching the air fill with the born-again, resting on the corpse of the rotted oak. Tomorrow I’ll drag it, chain-sawed to thick tablets, into the woods. No tragedy to watch it go. The insects have broken from that burrow into warm air. Snow has melted from bark and pooled. With nowhere to turn.
Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Paula Bohince