“When somebody has a heart condition or cancer, the whole neighborhood doesn’t change! They might bring food or sit with somebody, but they don’t have to worry about whether the children are safe and they don’t have to watch him suffering in public!” Read More
Those of you who knew Terry Stoeckert—his students, colleagues, friends, family, residents of our apartment house, where he lived for 40 years, know we lost a good, very smart, generous, and loving man. Read More
The scorching eye of Ferrante does not spare us the pain – “pain” is not the right word. Pain is sharp, localized. The poverty in this book is the relentless force of the rack, slowly tearing apart normality, perpetrated by the victims as fully as the torturers. Nobody escapes responsibility in this book. Read More
Edward Feathers, known as Old Filth (it is said that he invented the term F-ail I-n L-ondon, T-ry, H-ong K-ong), or Dear Old Filth in his dotage, is the epitome of the British character, stiff upper lip, impeccably and appropriately dressed, reliably well mannered, takes his licks without complaint, and… Read More
Just watching the dogs of Argentina freed my soul. In the park yesterday, near the lake, my daughter and I sat on a bench and watched the dogs play, unleashed. They tussled over palm fronds, tried to take the ball out of each other’s mouth, raced each other for the… Read More
