The New York of 1945 was the victorious city of the New Deal and World War II, one that can barely be glimpsed today beneath postmodern towers and billboards for dot-com enterprises.
When I visit the Poetry Publication Showcase, an annual display of the year's new poetry books at Poets House in Manhattan, I feel as if I've been granted a precious audience with Poetry itself.
Long before I'd gone to a theater and lashed myself to a seat, I formed two expectations about The Perfect Storm.
It is a depressing rule for students of American political discourse that the more one happens to know about a given subject, the more amazing one finds the brazen ignorance that passes for publi
The United States never held a large number of direct colonies, a fact that has prompted many political leaders to declare it the great exception to colonialism.
"This is a story about a spy," writes Millicent Dillon in Harry Gold: A Novel.
In Me, Myself & Irene, Jim Carrey bullies a series of small children, gets into senseless fights (on the grounds that "he started it") and reverts hungrily to breast-feeding.
William Randolph Hearst is one of those people we all know was very, very famous but are never quite sure why, or what we are to think of him.
At a quarter to 3 in the afternoon on March 14, 1883, one of the world's brainiest men, Karl Marx, ceased to think. He passed away peacefully in his favorite armchair.