Rosie Hardy is a teeny little thing with a big laugh. She smiles a lot. She’s super sweet and witty and just one of the most darling people you’ll ever meet. She also takes phenomenal photographs. Rosie is in love with her art. If you didn’t know it from her 365 you’d know it when,
The shortlist of the 2010 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award was announced today. The 8 titles were selected from a total of 156 novels nominated by 163 public library systems in 123 cities worldwide and includes three British writers and American author Marilynne Robinson. 1. The Twin by Gerbrand Bakker (Dutch) in translation. 2. The
When a song with a grammatically incorrect title becomes a smash hit, that’s a catastrophe. English teachers everywhere were surely gnashing their teeth as students sang along with “Between You and I” by Jessica Simpson in 2006. But she can be forgiven; it’s a hypercorrection heard sputtering from the mouths of many educated people. The
Since 1953, when the first issue of The Paris Review appeared with an interview of E. M. Forster, the magazine’s Q&A encounters with the great writers of our times have come to be recognized as a sort of literary genre unto themselves: The Paris Review interview. Nadine Gordimer (c) Dan Porges There are other interviews
The Euro’s brother is an insanely talented artist. I have a theory that in a past life he painted whatever it was da Vinci painted over in that Milanese noodle hall. So, there’s that. In this life, he’s also a director. Watch one of his programs, The Thin Blue Line
Once, in an intimate moment, my sister looked at me and said: “Don’t judge me.” She followed this with: “I think Donald Trump is Sexy.” I didn’t, of course. Judge. How could I? Growing up, Walter Matthau was my Backstreet Boy. I also think Stephen Wolfram is all kinds of hot. If you don’t already
On Friday night I cried because I was so overwhelmed with packing and moving and packing some more and because The Euro broke the crystal plate my grandmother gave me as a wedding gift. He looked worse than I did, when it happened, and I know things are just things but… I sat in the
Last night I almost broke my neck while doing dolphin pose in the shower. I realise how ridiculous this sounds, now. But at the time aqua-yoga seemed quite reasonable. And I nearly died. There was no voice. No shining light. No reflection of any kind. But there was a considerable imagining on my part of
This week has been about trying to get my head on straight. To organise. Clear clutter. Regain some kind of semblance of system. My brain’s been in overdrive this week. When I lay down last night, my head throbbed from the beat beat beat of it. I watched this brilliant documentary on the jet stream.
If I were born calm and, you know, smart, I would have wanted to be a physicist. It would have made for nice balance. But I wasn’t. I came into the world hyper and full of stress. So I write. It’s where I find my peace. When I was a kid I loved Einstein, because
“My new found spirituality made it essential to me that we not battle. So this was my position – I would neither defend myself from him, nor would I fight him. For the longest time, against he counsel of all who cared about me, I resisted even consulting a lawyer, because I considered even that
“The best thing in winter was driving home, after her day teaching music in the Rough River schools. It would already be dark, and on the upper streets of the town snow might be falling, while rain lashed the car on the coastal highway. Joyce drove beyond the limits of the town into the forest,
