September 2, 2014
There is a moment where Mitchell reaches right into your chest, puts his fingers on your heart, and presses down.
August 29, 2014
by Joanna Chen
There was a certain buzz in the air before Michael Hastings’s The Last Magazine was published. His personal story, in fact, is the stuff that good fiction is made of. A prominent journalist, he died just over a year ago in a single-vehicle crash in the hours before dawn, triggering speculation that he had been murdered.
August 18, 2014
by Mark Lane
There will always be another game. Each game is as important as the next.
August 13, 2014
Is it possible for a group of characters to be too charismatic? If so, that was my only real objection to Bertino’s novel.
August 13, 2014
My Two Italies is a hybrid memoir, both a recollection of personal experience and growth and also a scholarly look at the long-standing divide between Italy’s north and south — the north characterized by wealth and culture, and the south by poverty and crime. For Luzzi, the divide is personally felt.
August 11, 2014
Aloof, Quiet, and Dissonant: On Haruki Murakami’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage 9
by Woody Brown
All of the hallmarks of Murakami’s style all are present in Colorless Tsukuru, but for perhaps the first time in his work, they seem flat and uninteresting, almost overused, as if the novel is a parody of his earlier work.
August 1, 2014
Storms come, storms go, aspirations don’t become reality and personalities don’t improve, they just flat-line.
July 30, 2014
Wood sees the eruption of Tambora and its devastating after-effects as a case study for rapid climate change, arguing that the years post-Tambora offer “a rare, clear window onto a world convulsed by weather extremes, with human communities everywhere struggling to adapt to sudden, radical shifts in temperatures and rainfall.”
July 29, 2014
Appalachian literature plays an elegaic refrain. It is a literature of dislocation and transition and survival.
July 22, 2014
by Paul Morton
In the back of his mind, Mark Twain probably imagined a dogshit-eating transvestite, but couldn’t find a place for him in Huckleberry Finn.