Essays Archives - Page 79 of 96 - The Millions
March 29, 2010
by Kirsty Logan
Three contemporary retellings revisit the Snow White fairy tale. They all twist the old story, but do they subvert it?
March 18, 2010
A writer is like a goose inside a cloud. You fly by moving your fingers across a keyboard, hoping to write your way out of confusion and into something that makes sense to you and others.
March 16, 2010
One somewhat disquieting effect of reading War and Peace is that the more your own thoughts show up in its pages, the less original your life begins to feel.
March 15, 2010
by Luke Epplin
In Chile, one learns the word for earthquake before the word for thunder, a consequence of living in a country where thunder rumbles infrequently but the earth shakes every few months.
March 11, 2010
by Andrew Tutt
Should epigraphs be thought of as part of the text, a sort of pre-modern, post-modern device, like tossing a newspaper clipping into the body narrative? Or are they actually a direct invitation by the author, perhaps saying, “Look here, for from this inspiration came this tale?”
March 10, 2010
People don’t disappear nearly as often in real life as they do in fiction. We’re fascinated, as a culture, by the idea of vanishing.
March 9, 2010
by Peter Straub
Just for beginners, let’s admit that literary fiction is a genre, too, shall we? Expectations guide its readers, that of respect for consensus reality and the poignancy of seemingly ordinary lives, of sensitive character-drawing and vivid scene-painting, of the reversals and conflicts characteristic of the several sub-genres of literary fiction.
March 4, 2010
Late on a late December Friday, I decided to try something different: I headed to a mall-bound Borders and asked 37 customers about their relationship to books.
March 2, 2010
I became known as “that woman who writes”—the patrons and employees showing me new tattoos, telling me about their breakups and fights and hangovers, and complaining about the “dickhead” who owned the coffeehouse.
February 26, 2010
by Sarah McCoy
The truth is, I read cookbooks like novels. Cover to cover, page by page, the dedication, the acknowledgments, the indexes: I devour everything.