TMN is a newsletter, running Monday-Saturday
TMN is a newsletter, published Monday-Saturday. Sign up for our daily dozen-plus links!
Yes, 2017 went off the rails. But what pushed it? We asked 29 of our favorite journalists, writers, and thinkers: What were the most important events of the past 12 months, and what were the least?
Better to have loved and lost—and best to have written an essay about it. Surviving the Russian melodrama of young love.
Where there’s smoke, there’s smuggling. Before the Ukrainian border became a dangerous war zone, it was a profitable bootlegging arena.
Our Russia hand submits a roll-up of all the corruption, crises, ill-preparedness, highways paved with French luggage, and other #sochiproblems surrounding Putin’s graft-gutted Winter Olympics.
An American ballerina makes headlines when she says the Bolshoi Ballet wanted a bribe to let her perform. The company denies her accusation. But a small library in Virginia knew about it first.
Giant Chinese pigeons, Scarlett Johansson’s daughter, and deliberately un-green urban living: What to expect from London, Los Angeles, and Moscow in 2040, 2070, and 2100.
Rough waters for Russia’s fabled Bolshoi Theatre have prompted soul-searching among the country’s dancers, officials, and fans.
A literary gumshoe visits St. Petersburg to track down the so-called “ninja of Russian verse,” Elena Shvarts, who died in 2010 leaving almost nothing behind.
The world of the myope is often a nicer place—faces lack wrinkles, and trees seem to be painted by Monet. Then, during a visit to Moscow, a black spot appears.
Depardieu has not responded to the offer thus far. Perhaps he’s still thinking about it. To help him make up his mind, we present Elizabeth Kiem’s...
This is it, friends—the last round of our Reading Roulette series of contemporary Russian literature in translation, with one shot left in the chamber. But we’ve saved the best for last.
How do you see what mushers see? You mush. An adventure on the Beringia, a dog sled race stretching over Russia’s easternmost tundra. If in the process you see more than you ever expected—more of humanity, more of yourself—then thank the people of 685 miles of snow.