The Treasure of the Sierra Madre The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
"Badges, we don't need no stinkin' badges." Who said one of the most famous lines in film history? As it turns out, nobody.
Jan 16, 2009 / Books & the Arts / James Agee
Jazz Is?: A Power Stronger Than Itself Jazz Is?: A Power Stronger Than Itself
A new book on the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians looks at jazz as a power stronger than itself.
Jan 15, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Franklin Bruno
Back Talk: Jill Lepore and Jane Kamensky Back Talk: Jill Lepore and Jane Kamensky
Jill Lepore and Jane Kamensky talk about how they wrote the occasionally racy historical novel Blindspot.
Jan 15, 2009 / Back Talk Conversations / Christine Smallwood
In His League: Being George Plimpton In His League: Being George Plimpton
An affectionate and absorbing oral history raises questions of whether George Plimpton's amiable exterior concealed a man without qualities.
Jan 15, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Scott Sherman
Roland Burris Roland Burris
He knows he's the right man for the job.
Jan 15, 2009 / Column / Calvin Trillin
The Commons The Commons
In our imperfect world, only the lucky few have access to wealth and cultural riches. There is a better way: it's called The Commons.
Jan 15, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Laura Hanna and Gavin Browning
Black Sun Black Sun
Inferno happened when Dante explained to us how he functions sexually. Before then, it did not exist. And Petrarch. Who like a green dog on four wet, dark-green legs sniffs Vaucluse and touches his clothes. He thinks about the books his father burnt, not about Laura. It has to do with the race. Who is faster. God with his sand or we with our tongue. Sand is the tongue of fire. Tongue is the fire of sand. Fire is the sand of God. I'm falling. I fall like an oak doomed to die, and also women want to be more than metaphor. With their moist, round, soft skin, with their drunken scent of warm mushrooms they drive me insane. Walls of hell, why do you stagger. I miss the smell of burnt flesh. Nature makes me tired. It tires me so terribly that I sink in a cave. Stars move apart. I am the Sun. With no air. Fake fire falls upon the children's black hair, advancing into their hearts so they burst like buckles. Their mouths yawn open as if they were mummies. They rave in benediction, they gargle my name as I get dressed. When I adjust my collar in front of him--the mirror-- everything is already late. (Translated from the Slovenian by Peter Richards and Ana Jelnikar)
Jan 14, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Tomaž Šalamun
Letters Letters
Obama: Flexible, Intelligent, Pragmatic Trenton, N.J.
Jan 14, 2009 / Letters / Our Readers and André Schiffrin
Jon Stewart Calls Sarah Palin ‘Blamey Whinehouse’ Jon Stewart Calls Sarah Palin ‘Blamey Whinehouse’
Sarah Palin seems determined to make sure the party tradition of providing comedy fodder doesn't leave office with Bush.
Jan 14, 2009 / Video / The Daily Show
The Shining The Shining
If you stay at the Overlook Hotel, best avoid Room 237.
Jan 14, 2009 / Books & the Arts / Robert Hatch