Shall I compare thee to a sweltry day? By Johann Sebastian Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a sweltry day? Thou art more dismal and less temperate. Long ago flow’red the darling buds of May That now droop and wilt, green fuses past
Literature
Vladimir Putin and Self-Hatred
So many human qualities can be inversions of what they seem. Hatred of someone else can be hatred of oneself. To punish another can be to engage in self-punishment. The subject of inversion came up the other evening during the rebroadcast of Dick
Righting the Wrong Word
A few months ago, drafting my response to a questionnaire in advance of an upcoming interview in connection with Caroline, I wrote the phrase “fiction’s ghetto.” Here’s the question and my original answer: Q: Do you have a target reader? A:
Tribalism in Amber
1 When we look back at a long-ago era, what wasn’t obvious to the people then can be plain to us today. As with a tree’s hardening resin, an era’s scurrying, uncertain lives eventually become fixed like insects in amber. It used to be in Europe
Young at Heart
“The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young.” That’s the Lord Henry Wotton character speaking in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey. I think of my father who, as he approached ninety, insisted he felt no different
The Third Reason
A white woman friend was recently on the subway when a black man sat next to her with his mask lowered just below his nose. A senior citizen who takes every precaution to avoid infection from COVID-19, she stood and walked to an empty seat at the