These stories (I'm sure there are others) make vivid the embarrassments and fears of patients; their efforts to deal with deterioration, endure pain, and cope with unhinging and detachment. The reader, the viewer, and the re-reader can take cues from caregivers who ease the way to acceptance.
Some of the best novels have very believable protagonists, so it almost seems sort of/kind of possible to meet them. One of the pleasures of reading is immersing ourselves in a fictional world to the point where we can imagine being part of that world -- at least as a fly-on-the-wall.
Recently, Congress decided that cutting $40 billion from the food stamps program would be a good idea. After all, that budget works out to a whole couple of bucks a day for a portion of the 40+ million Americans living below the poverty line.
For a number of years, liking a novel by a certain author set me off on a binge of consecutively reading other books by the same author. It made sense. If you love one fictional work by an author, there's a good chance you'll at least like another.
A generation of children has now grown up with, and cherishes, this story of an intrepid, likeable little girl named Coraline Jones, at the end of her summer school holidays in East Sussex, not so long ago.
hen the world lost Seamus Heaney, so departed among its most glorious of voices. While the gift of his written voice will continue to live on indefinitely, the expressively inspiring tones of the poet's physical sound have sadly been extinguished.
For bestselling author T.C. Boyle, writing is both an obsessive-compulsive behavior and the highest thing he can aspire to. He talked with Max Tholl to discuss the educative purpose of art, teaching creativity and the deepest desires of human nature.
His family and friends are in mourning for Seamus Heaney, who died in Dublin on August 30. They are joined by a world of acquaintances and admirers, both known and unknown to Heaney himself, whose grieving is for the poet and the man -- if those could be separated.
Stephen Burt and I discussed the instructive and useful nature of poetry: how it's a vehicle for self-expression, a valuable means of understanding the world and a resource that is written for an infinite set of audiences.
Maybe a block or so away from Paramount Pictures, deep in Hollywood, there's a short alley, La Vista Court, which is a real nexus of California bohemianism. It contains an unusual building with a bas relief of the great, bohemian writer Jack London.
Alan Kaufman, the Bronx-born son of a French-Jewish Holocaust survivor, is author of the critically acclaimed memoirs Jew Boy and Drunken Angel. Kaufman's writings are subversive articulations of extreme outsiderness.
While sex and religion both are now acceptable for dinner conversation, imagine a book that would cause a chorus of indignant gasps during the main course. Genesis Deflowered, a new book that smashes sex and religion together, fits that description nicely.
For readers, the pleasures of the unreliable narrator seem to lie primarily in the challenges they offer our critical and interpretive faculties. Can we figure out the narrator's trustworthiness (or lack of it) before the other characters do?