Essays Archives - Page 5 of 90 - The Millions
March 9, 2016
by Edan Lepucki
Rarely do I read a book that leads me to Charles Dickens, especially considering I tend to read either autobiographical fiction or semi-experimental nonfiction written by women. So who is gonna fave my David Copperfield tweets, I guess is my point?!
March 4, 2016
by Ann Beattie
There is no possibility David Markson would have thought of being fashionable. But without any calculation, David’s writing has come to be considered very of-the-moment.
March 1, 2016
Radio is like literature, like our thoughts: moving, shifting, often clouded in static, and yet sometimes out of the maddening noise comes clarity.
February 29, 2016
The motherfucker looked more like me than he had when we were young. I was growing into him, as if we were a pair of trees rooted too close together.
February 24, 2016
For the most part, publishing today, whether print or digital, lacks the overarching sensibility that only the good publisher provides.
February 23, 2016
We’ve traveled a long, long way from the storied four-decade publishing association of Alfred Knopf with Thomas Mann, nostalgia for which is a fairly useless emotion in our Godzilla vs. King Kong world of death-match throwdowns against Amazon and Apple and Google and the Justice Department.
February 18, 2016
by Jen Bannan
If you talk to literature professors, you may have heard them wonder aloud at the tendency of their students to diagnose characters. Anna Karenina clearly has borderline personality disorder, Holden Caulfield seems to have been abused as a child, Raymond Carver’s characters wouldn’t have these problems if they’d just go to AA.
February 16, 2016
by Edan Lepucki
Like Franzen’s novels, the Berenstain Bear books might meander, reveling in details alternately informative and irrelevant, but ultimately they’re straightforward tales about family.
February 10, 2016
by Matt Seidel
I tucked a copy of Suzanne Berne’s latest, The Dogs of Littlefield, under my arm before being tugged out the door by my basset hound.
February 5, 2016
There is nothing I want less than to read from a tablet — the thought of doing so irritates me irrationally — and I’ve begun to wonder if my attachment to the physical book has anything to do with an attachment to my father, or at least my memory of him.