The Year of Magical Thinking
Joan Didion's memoir of a year-gone-bad is brilliant but at times oddly unaffecting.
If secular Saddam is smug it because Iraq’s current state of affairs rationalizes the intentions of his tyranny.
Only Jarmusch puts Mitchum, Depp, and Iggy Pop in a mystical B&W Western.
Mind the Birds
The flu terrifies because it’s familiar, the perfect harbor for vicarious worry, both imaginable and medieval.
Harris' labor of love yields a vivid, damaged Pollock.
Rome had a peculiar effect on the British men I once knew. It appeared to operate in a guilt-free zone.
Curvaceous, Cassandra, vulva
Mastodontic. Plethora. Sagacious. Words are first passage to adulthood.
Saffron, that pungent little flower, is making a subtle comeback on Italian tables.
It takes Italian students five years longer to graduate than their counterparts.
Nobody, it seems, is supposed to order a cappuccino after mid-morning.
I love Italian women for the pride they take in their appearance.