As little attention as is paid to literature in the United States—apparently we have greater matters with which to deal—Canadian writers are rarely acknowledged (Alice Munro excepted) down here in the lower 48. Andrew Pyper has a good chance of breaking through the caribou curtain with his fourth
Like many right-thinking Americans, I have been sporting a 1-21-09 sticker on my front bumper for a few years. That date, enlightened citizens will acknowledge, is the last date of the Bush/Cheney presidency—an administration that has more than its share of tell-all tomes and
With nearly 30 books of novellas, novels, stories, essays, poetry, and food and travel writing under his ample belt, one might expect Jim Harrison’s name to have to have wider currency, at least among smart folks that read books. Yet, despite being translated into more than 20 languages and
For those people who attempt to claim the world of fine art is distinct from the commercial one, sullied by filthy lucre and other crass venal motives, this book may be hard to swallow as it clearly and definitely exhibits the blurring of what arguably are archaic categories—though even
If you remember (as I do) or are not long removed from your reiterated adolescence—known, in America, as your undergraduate years—you will recall all manner of silly affectations, excessive tastes, and dramatic postures, soon overcome by the rigors and demands of so-called real life. For me, in
I was looking over a recent copy of The Believer (the annual music issue) and was much pleased to see there was an article on singer/poet/songwriter Gil Scott-Heron, once of the long-ago Last Poets, who were known for their anthemic “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.
As we have seen over the weekend, an untimely death (such as they are) of a prodigious young talent is a shock to the system. Francisco Goldman, who did great journalism in Central America in the 1980s and has written a number of well-regarded novels including The Divine Husband,
One of the benefits of doing literary journalism is the sporadic largesse of book publishers; as a recipient of daily deliveries, one of the more fun and pleasing byproducts of that is the opportunity to pick a book at random from the towering biblio-stacks and dipping into the pages
There is an open question on what character flaw or personality disorder causes me to lord over people who don’t know anything about Nicaragua or at least where it is located. No doubt it will be given ample consideration in my memoir (current working title: Just Talking: How to
In the large, inchoate expanse of critical terrain best characterized by the question of “What were they thinking?” one must relegate the newest effort, Raising the Bar, by veteran TV producer Steven Bochco (Hill Street Blues, L.A. Law, and N.Y.P.D. Blue). The bombardment of promotion on
