London is constantly changing—surviving bombs, rebuilding flats—so what’s there to hold onto when even the subway map’s an abstraction? Our longtime Londoner may notice only what’s missing, but his son sees the city for the very first time.
Insights into the British media don’t come more highly praised than Andrew Marr’s My Trade, freshly issued in paperback. Marr, formerly the BBC’s chief political correspondent, bares the secrets of the industry in the highly self-deprecating story of his journey from hack to commentator, including a
Carl’s Cars is a “magazine about people,” but hey, aren’t they all? What makes this Norwegian publication different is hard to nail down. Sure, there’s a fashionable streak of one-upmanship about it—with winsome girls folding skinny legs into the crushed velour interiors of cars built
Completed in 1841, Trafalgar Square’s so-called fourth plinth immediately suffered a funding crisis and has been statue-less ever since. In 1999, it became a showcase for new sculpture, and now it’s coming into its own with a series of longer installations. First up is Alison Lapper
Contemporary writing about London has been slightly cursed by the Iain Sinclair factor, with the author’s dense but overbearing style encouraging legions of imitators to laboriously scrape away the modern city in search of the historical debris—and laborious prose—that lies beneath. Fanzine Smoke eschews the density in
The ATP-organized Don’t Look Back gigs feature “classic albums” performed in their entirety by all-original lineups: Step forward, Dinosaur Jr., Mudhoney, and the Lemonheads. It’s an idea that smacks of selling out and dumbing down, a pipe-and-slippers rock show for aging grungesters who no
The London bombers were identified by the city's vast camera system, recording footage of them humping their deadly backpacks, so did Orwell get it wrong? Are these spies more helpful than sinister? Our man in the U.K. explains how the capital keeps tabs on its citizens.
Terror strikes twice in as many weeks. A major city is disrupted, and discomfort is widespread. Our London correspondent sends us three days’ dispatches about life on the tube.
Our perceptions age with the cities around us—old thoughts are razed, new theories go up, the subway seems less confusing. But what about that band we loved as teenagers? What happened to them?
Though New York now has its own Soho club, it’s London where the eating club has its roots, though only in recent years for celebrities with hungry noses.
