How to catch a killer who only exists in a parallel world?
His characters—in 1919 Ireland, 1857 India, and 1940 Singapore—intuit that the world is about to collapse. But they can do nothing to save it.
Agatha Christie’s “At Bertram’s Hotel” allows us to have our nostalgic cake and read it too.
Novelist Jesmyn Ward is known for historical grandiosity, but her long-overlooked book “Sing, Unburied, Sing” turns away from realism into the realm of generic strangeness.
“Few libraries list it among their holdings, and sometimes I have wondered if the book in my possession actually exists.”
Annotations isn’t a book you read for the plot. It’s more of a “Notes toward...” that remains just that: always towards, never quite arriving.
South African literature has long struggled to become drought-resistant: its plotlines, and even its paper production, presuppose abundant water.
Environmental wisdom can arise from being a better reader.
Woolf’s spin on the genre of children’s fiction about animals is valuable because of its comedy, not despite it.
A 1980 novel brilliantly anatomizes the Australian settler-colonial roots of the late 20th century’s crass materialist complacency.
As in mythology, the characters in a 1984 Turkish novel are acted upon by forces distant and uncaring.
When freedom will not arrive to us, can we get nearer to it?
The author’s pagan obsessions, like her chatty metacritiques of other modernist writers, set her apart from her contemporaries.
How could any Belgian graphic novel escape Tintin’s shadow? Enter Brecht Evens’s The Making Of.
“What I wanted was a piece of land which I could love passionately, which I could spend the rest of my life in cultivating.”
Mary Borden’s taut masterpiece has long been overshadowed by the other Great War books of 1928–29 (All Quiet on the Western Front, A Farewell to Arms ...
All but forgotten today, Gene Stratton-Porter was—in the early 20th century ...
When should a woman kill her husband? I have turned this question over and over ...
The July 1960 issue of Esquire—dedicated to New York City—included ...
John Ashbery said he was nice—“nice as a person and nice as an artist.” I think it’s fair to say that we don’t have a rich critical vocabulary for nice artists. (And how ...