A Waltz With the Dogs of Memory A Waltz With the Dogs of Memory
Vicious hounds of repressed memory haunt Waltz with Bashir, a deeply flawed depiction of the harsh truths of a war no one can forget.
Feb 24, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Hussein Ibish
Slumdog Subtext Slumdog Subtext
Slumdog Millionaire has captivated global audiences, but in India, it strikes a different nerve--as a tale of personal recompense and revenge by a young Muslim victim of Hindu pers...
Feb 23, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Barbara Crossette
Waltzing Alone Waltzing Alone
Israel, unrepentant and without introspection, doesn't deserve a film as brilliant as Waltz with Bashir.
Feb 19, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Liel Leibovitz
‘Slumdog Millionaire’: From Fantasy to Reality ‘Slumdog Millionaire’: From Fantasy to Reality
Slumdog Millionaire may provide romantic escapism for some, but for me it stirs up very real memories from my childhood in India.
Feb 19, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Nur Laiq
Can We Take The Media Seriously? Can We Take The Media Seriously?
Is the media out of touch? We talk about the good, the bad, the ugly--and The Nation's Leslie Savan on the Oscars.
Feb 19, 2009 / Books & the Arts / GRITtv
Chameleon: Herbie Hancock Adapts to Lyrics Chameleon: Herbie Hancock Adapts to Lyrics
On River: The Joni Letters Herbie Hancock and Joni Mitchell make a remarkable collaboration.
Feb 18, 2009 / Books & the Arts / David Yaffe
Bad Paper Bad Paper
Does the author of They Knew They Were Right really think he has done nothing wrong?
Feb 18, 2009 / Books & the Arts / John Palattella
Betrayal: On David Grossman Betrayal: On David Grossman
Novelist and peace advocate David Grossman examines the high cost of concealing what is unpleasant.
Feb 18, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Eyal Press
Four-Syllable Lines (Monody) Four-Syllable Lines (Monody)
Sweet unrest still Wood harsh dismal Slope of a hill Darkening air She's the target Force-drift and thrown Dismissed rash tear I would, can, did Slip in a hole Now stab butt out Doting body Been thrown below She's the it girl Her epic dust
Feb 18, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Julie Carr
Poem Poem
(circa 1185) I love the jubilance of springtime When leaves and flowers burgeon forth, And I exult in the mirth of bird songs Resounding through the woods; And I relish seeing the meadows Adorned with tents and pavilions; And great is my happiness When the fields are packed With armored knights and horses. And I thrill at the sight of scouts Forcing men and women to flee with their belongings; And gladness fills me when they are chased By a dense throng of armed men; And my heart soars When I behold mighty castles under siege As their ramparts crumble and collapse With troops massed at the edge of the moat And strong, solid barriers Hemming in the target on all sides. And I am likewise overjoyed When a baron leads the assault, Mounted on his horse, armed and unafraid, Thus giving strength to his men Through his courage and valor. And once the battle has begun Each of them should be prepared To follow him readily, For no man can be a man Until he has delivered and received Blow upon blow. In the thick of combat we will see Maces, swords, shields, and many-colored helmets Split and shattered, And hordes of vassals striking in all directions As the horses of the dead and wounded Wander aimlessly around the field. And once the fighting starts Let every well-born man think only of breaking Heads and arms, for better to be dead Than alive and defeated. I tell you that eating, drinking, and sleeping Give me less pleasure than hearing the shout Of "Charge!" from both sides, and hearing Cries of "Help! Help!," and seeing The great and the ungreat fall together On the grass and in the ditches, and seeing Corpses with the tips of broken, streamered lances Jutting from their sides. Barons, better to pawn Your castles, towns, and cities Than to give up making war. (Translated from the Provençal by Paul Auster)
Feb 18, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Bertran de Born