The Break-Up
Elections once conferred a larger knowledge that made us feel more connected to what’s important. But this cycle’s meaningless content overload has delivered little more a desire to unplug.
Elections once conferred a larger knowledge that made us feel more connected to what’s important. But this cycle’s meaningless content overload has delivered little more a desire to unplug.
From 2:00 to 2:30 p.m. ET today, tell the Biblioracle the last five books you’ve read, and he’ll recommend your next favorite novel.
From 3:00 to 3:30 p.m. ET today, tell the Biblioracle the last five books you’ve read, and he'll recommend your next favorite novel.
Last week, the Pulitzer Prize board refused to give its prestigious award to any novel published in 2011. Something is clearly broken. We roused our commentators from the Tournament of Books, Kevin Guilfoile and John Warner, for their remarks.
Every artist deals with critics differently—Richard Ford spitting on Colson Whitehead, for example. But the rule is to avoid direct contact. Not for John Warner, debut novelist, who decided to seek out the man behind his worst review.
Today, from 2-3:00 p.m., the Biblioracle will use his magical powers to recommend the next book you’ll love. Prior to that, a call-to-arms to save the plight of reading and an announcement about the 2012 Tournament of Books reader-judge contest.
When asked, focus groups describe the funny man as “untalented, successful, bad husband and father.” He had been at the top, but is now heading toward the bottom. An excerpt from John Warner’s forthcoming novel, “The Funny Man,” published by Soho Press.
Class is back in session at campuses across the nation. But for the rest of us who yearn for an assigned reading list, the Biblioracle will recommend your next favorite novel today from 2-3:00 p.m. ET.
Summer is reading’s high season. But all good books must come to an end, and then what do you do? Have no fear—the Biblioracle is here. Discover your next favorite novel today, from 2-3:00 p.m. ET.
Allan Seager was a student at Oxford when he contracted tuberculosis. What happened next made him one of America’s greatest writers—declared the heir to Anderson and Hemingway—ever to be forgotten. Yet one of Seager’s short stories endures in ways that none of Hemingway’s can match.