A Translation Bernart de Ventadorn “Can vei la lauzeta mover” I When I see the lark break its wings against a sunbeam, forget itself, and fall from that sweet joy that pierces the heart, O—my own could melt, envying all … Read More
The news that the British media—perhaps the world’s most ferociously unscrupulous—kept Prince Harry’s presence in Afghanistan a secret for ten weeks shocked the world. But as soon as the story broke, he was pulled off the front lines and sent home.
So: a month ago, J.K. Rowling decided to out Dumbledore in front of a booked-solid Carnegie Hall. The audience gasped, and then burst into applause. The real surprise, though, is not Dumbledore’s “homosexuality,” but the fact that there could be … Read More
Gene Robinson, the first openly-gay Episcopal bishop, came for a visit a few days ago. He led a service in the Chapel Sunday night, and lectured in McCosh the following afternoon. Posters went up advertising these events. I thought I’d … Read More
One day this July the heat was such that it was no longer fun to roam outside. So I interrupted my summer routine (walking the dog, eating profiteroles, thinking about what a chore it must have been for Lopokova to … Read More
When the U.S.S.R. collapsed, the world marveled at how quickly a superpower could unravel. But for Serguei Oushakine, all it took to knock down Communist Russia was a good book.
They say that to be a great writer, you have to kill your liver. Or, preferably, yourself. To paraphrase Tolstoy’s old saw: happiness is banal; misery, unique. But do you really have to feel at odds with the world to write?
I am not with the times when it comes to television. Schadenfreude TV upsets me; I can’t watch it. You know what I’m talking about: the semi-scripted reality shows, the “true life” documentaries, the TV that makes you want to … Read More
Just when I thought the next show to open at an American museum could only be a survey of Tommy Hilfiger’s toenail clippers, this happens. Lucio Fontana has come back to Manhattan.