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Being shy or bad at dancing is common for teenage boys, but some men carry on long into adulthood – men who are also called hobbledehoys. Our writer, a self-confessed hobbledehoy, finds company in Trollope while updating the profile for contemporary times.
When people can’t explain global warming or mad cow disease, perhaps they should look at a less than obvious scourge: the dreaded literacy plague.
The author covers topics such as his new book, Saul and Patsy, Chekhov’s medical career, politics, Minnesota, and what it’s like to have your work made into film.
Though dancers occasionally kick one another, writers are alone among artists in using their craft to attack each other. A report on Stephen King’s new decision to join the vipers.
Teenagers: They’ve got cell phones, credit cards, and brand identities. A review of Alissa Quart’s Branded: The Buying and Selling of Teenagers finds a shared past not too dissimilar, and a terrifying prospect that may lie ahead of us all.
Psychoanalysis in literature is old hat, but there were days when it was new. Returning to Mary McCarthy to see which neuroses still ring true.
Considered the best profile writer New York’s ever seen, Joseph Mitchell’s influence is unfortunately on the wane. Why today’s prose-makers have lost their way.
In the first installment of a new series of re-readings, we dust off our dog-eared copy of Metamorphosis and see it in a decidedly different light.
The hottest new toy is the Harry Potter Nimbus 2000, a vibrating broom proving popular with lots of little girls. An inside look at its insidious development.
In the cutthroat world of playwriting, where a good line means the difference between fame and famine, many authors fall victim to the lure of performance-enhancing drugs.
New York’s fashionably-lit are always looking for the next hot thing in plastic glasses. With the days of Dave Eggers now frozen, and Franzen quickly fading, could writer J.T. LeRoy be it?
The fate of literature has always been uncertain. In recent times the path seemed secure, guarded by Updike and Barnes & Noble totes. Then, disaster struck. Publishers crashed their Mercedes, agents sold their leather blazers. Inside the tragedy from within Oprah’s private chambers.