Culture

Naipaul’s Darkness: Patrick French’s ‘The World Is What It Is’ Naipaul’s Darkness: Patrick French’s ‘The World Is What It Is’

Biographer Patrick French offers a vivid, sometimes enthralling portrait of a deeply enigmatic writer.

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Scott Sherman

Stewartsville: George R. Stewart’s Names on the Land Stewartsville: George R. Stewart’s Names on the Land

What possessed the fierce individualist George R. Stewart to compile a history of place-naming in the United States?

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Christine Smallwood

Alone Among the Ghosts: Roberto Bolano’s ‘2666’ Alone Among the Ghosts: Roberto Bolano’s ‘2666’

Roberto Bolaño's last novel, 2666, is his most profound exploration of art and infamy, craft and crime, the writer and the totalitarian state.

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Marcela Valdes

Obama Reaches Out to Former Foes Obama Reaches Out to Former Foes

Team of rivals for the twenty-first century.

Nov 19, 2008 / Column / Calvin Trillin

Poorly Grounded Notions Poorly Grounded Notions

And an inability to comprehend the flow of time. We need only think of statements by everybody. I cannot call my- self myself. Up to this point, the dreamer is dreaming, but now his dream begins. Unities of recollection, separate from one another. Thus in this present world, there are different injuries. I never hear them. They come uninvited. Silver tissue. Garlands between them. Any activity may produce music. Aware of their existence as an awareness of losing their sense of ex- istence: vague, general, nameless, like a nothing or the absolute. I am dead. I am not alive, a music of exceeding shrillness. May be pleasantly illustrated in the following way. Light on his head. Felicitous, contains some fabrication. I am forced to shout out, trace failure to the stage when plans are construed. I see a table before me. I am reminded of another table. I place table beside table. Separate worlds. In what sense are we talking?

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Keith Waldrop

The Sea-Fight Tomorrow The Sea-Fight Tomorrow

Afraid to take a chance. They pass haphazardly in all directions. Diving into his car. Or yours. Are there no strangers in town? Entering, leaving, crossing. I cross to the window and wave. Everybody looks alike. Pyramids. It must be somebody who has a house in the country. He said he would. Characteristic kinesthetic and tactile deficits on opposite sides of the body. Something clicked somewhere. It's got to be airtight on the other end. The butterfly-shaped central gray. Who is this man? It was a restful ride. The transition gradual, without sharp demarcation. The house was full of pictures. The night man was gone. Important changes from level to level. I pretend to listen.

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Keith Waldrop

Night Soil Night Soil

A random walk, its ordinary motion blurring chronology. Behind, a seascape. As if on a ship's deck. Fear of defeat is an old habit. All this fuss, with my hat pushed back. Honeyed phantastic. En- raptured soul. Another blow. From the end of the corridor, at the kitchen window. These frosts are cruel. I am not up to them. Out on the balcony, basking. History is trash. Elaborate battles make peace and then, after spectacular defeat, I may go and I may not. I'm in a bad mood, forever. We bring no resemblance. Torment and dreams. Grotesque and in- clement. Always the same amazing luck. Rest before the fireplace, forget fine spacing. To control noise by attacking the odds. Grope for the knob. Shutting out light and air. Cold stone floor. Sinking. Devouring pit. Dissolve, now, the dungeon. Streaks of light stream from your shadow. Redisposed. Clouds are not simply carried. We observe words and winds. The door slams behind us. Not so much forced by the sun as simply coasting under our own inertia. The knives of reality. Repeat the names. Doves, when they fight. Scorn is best and yes, we may go and we may not.

Nov 19, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Keith Waldrop

Sloveniafest Sloveniafest

What is it about Slovene poetry that has attracted so many American poets?

Nov 18, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Jordan Davis

Saturday Night Live’s Biden Blunder Scale Saturday Night Live’s Biden Blunder Scale

You don't think Joe Biden can give a train-wreck interview with Katie Couric? Just name the time and the place and he will bring the train.

Nov 17, 2008 / Saturday Night Live

The Vietnam Exposé That Wasn’t The Vietnam Exposé That Wasn’t

The untold story of US-perpetrated atrocities in Vietnam and how the press killed it.

Nov 13, 2008 / Books & the Arts / Nick Turse

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