In his new book, Paco Underhill, a longtime student of consumer behavior, evinces a particular aversion to the word woman. He prefers instead "the female of the species" or "the female of the household" or "the female of the house." The female of the species, we learn, behaves in a specific, predictable
In the 1960s, John Waters was an admirer of a lesbian stripper in Baltimore named Lady Zorro. "She just came out nude and snarled at her fans, 'What the fuck are you looking at?' To this day," Waters writes in his splendid new book, "Zorro is my inspiration." This kind of dual portraiture surfaces
Rilke has had plenty of remarkable translators, most famously, Stephen Mitchell. All have produced fine versions of Rilke's unrelentingly intense and sculptural poems, but only Edward Snow has tuned his ear to most or all of Rilke's body of work.
The tone of Orion You Came and You Took All My Marbles, the debut novel by Kira Henehan, announces itself on the title page—sonorous but disjointed, maybe a little overstuffed. Henehan's heroine is Finley, a seasoned detective with yellow eyes and red hair cut "as straight as the edge of a page."
We should give thanks for Melanie Phillips, who writes for the right in a column for the Daily Mail here in the UK, and now has a book out in the US with Encounter Books (other new titles: How the Obama Administration Threatens Our National Security, How Barack Obama Is Bankrupting the US Economy,
What did the Russian say to the German at the marketing conference? Something in English, most likely. As the working language of international business, science, diplomacy, and culture, English is spoken daily by millions of people whose native tongue is something else. Can the UK and the US, their
Kenzaburo Oe's novel The Changeling (translated by Deborah Bolivar Boehm) begins in a tried-and-true fashion: with a dead body and a suitcase of posthumous correspondence that may contain the secrets behind the tragedy. Internationally esteemed film director Goro Hanawa has leapt to his death from
"Comes over one an absolute necessity to move." And yet most times one does not. I was myself not moving—though the desire was there—when I met this sentence, the first in D. H. Lawrence's Sea and Sardinia. In my case, moving meant reviewing The Thief of Time, not moving meant reading Geoff Dyer's