
Summer Into Fall
New clothes, AP classes, middle-aged angst. A New York City mom reflects on being pulverized by the first day of school.
New clothes, AP classes, middle-aged angst. A New York City mom reflects on being pulverized by the first day of school.
Our Russia hand submits a roll-up of all the corruption, crises, ill-preparedness, highways paved with French luggage, and other #sochiproblems surrounding Putin’s graft-gutted Winter Olympics.
An American ballerina makes headlines when she says the Bolshoi Ballet wanted a bribe to let her perform. The company denies her accusation. But a small library in Virginia knew about it first.
Rough waters for Russia’s fabled Bolshoi Theatre have prompted soul-searching among the country’s dancers, officials, and fans.
Should the cicadas arrive just in time for your wedding—biblical, unexpected, and yet, routine as clockwork—there’s nothing to do but carry on with the ceremony. Come hell or, in fact, high water.
Timbuktu’s annual Festival in the Desert was ready to rock as a “Festival in Exile.” Now, with liberation, it is a festival in limbo. A listening guide to what should be heard outside Timbuktu when the fighting is over.
This is it, friends—the last round of our Reading Roulette series of contemporary Russian literature in translation, with one shot left in the chamber. But we’ve saved the best for last.
The latest salvo from our Reading Roulette series of contemporary Russian literature—stories you'll rarely find elsewhere in translation, unfortunately. This month we bring you a contender for the Debut Prize, Russia’s preeminent award for young writers.
When a Frankenstorm arrives from Haiti with destructive powers, the semi-professional student of zombie literature and history has a unique ability to perceive the arrival of end times. Welcome to America's new normal: the nonfictional apocalypse.
We’ve emptied half the cylinder in our Reading Roulette series of contemporary Russian literature—stories you won’t find anywhere else in translation, unfortunately. This month we usher to the table a 2013 Russian Booker Prize contender for a shot at blowing your mind.
We continue our series of publishing contemporary Russian literature in translation—stories you won't find anywhere else, unfortunately—with a novelist who turns Mr. and Mrs. Nabokov into objects of captivation. Don't miss out on your chance to win a gift card from Powells.com.
Our series of contemporary Russian literature continues—six months, six stories from some of Russia's best working writers, plus interviews with their authors, all of it sponsored by Powells.com. This month we feature one of Moscow's finest chroniclers.
Today we're launching a new series of contemporary Russian literature, with six stories in six months, including interviews with their authors, sponsored by Powells.com. Will one of them blow your mind? We begin with the "Queen of Russian Horror."
I did it. In doing so, I confirmed a few things for myself: * I’m still a Russophile. * I’m an old one at that. It’s both easier and harder to be an informed Russia-watcher in the era of socially networked regime-change. * What’s going on in Russia is
This winter, a burgeoning protest movement laid its cornerstone in a former swamp and up grew hope. Our correspondent talks to protesters, editors, commentators, and Kremlin-watchers in anticipation of this weekend's election and what comes next.
In the Port-au-Prince neighborhoods of Turgeau, Bois Verna, and Pacot exist 300 "gingerbread houses"—derelict and endangered, never mind scary. Still, a good old-fashioned ghost story takes some looking for. Until it comes to find you.
As some Christians prepared for the Apocalypse, 500 questers spent Friday night locked inside the New York Public Library with game designer Jane McGonigal.
A decade after Osama bin Laden's face achieved iconic status, one writer still can't help thinking, it's a handsome one—this definitive "face of evil."
Six months after an earthquake shook Haiti to its core, our woman in Haiti seeks out what lies beneath the rubble and finds a history of violence and striking beauty.
Last month's suicide attacks in Moscow shocked anyone who studied Dzhanet Abdullayeva's photo. But it wasn't her baby face or cold blood that impressed our writer. It was her choice of metro stations.
What kind of sound does a single tweet make? Our writer considers the reasons she left Twitter, and what it would take to bring other lapsed Tweeters back online.
Gauging the invasion of the well-intentioned a week after the devastation of Port-au-Prince and wondering what it really means for Haiti's future.
If not for a tragic car accident in 2001, W.G. Sebald would be celebrating his senior citizenship next week. Recalling an obsessive introduction to the author's unclassifiable genre.
Though his hair frequently resembled mid-'70s Rob Reiner, his gaze was more erratic. On the occasion of Gogol's 200th birthday, tracking the evolution of his visage.
On Tuesday, post-apocalyptic refugees from Battlestar Galactica--which airs its final episode tonight--spent an evening at the U.N. swapping war stories with rights activists. It was a convincing trailer, even for the uninitiated.
Following last Friday's heartbreaking 93 deaths, another Haitian school collapsed yesterday, injuring nine. Our woman in Haiti shows what street-level looks like in Petionville.
Once clear of Yankee Stadium, the 4 train runs north toward Van Cortlandt Park along a thoroughfare named by a society matron in a fit of pique.
Ever since she left Little House on the Prairie behind and was forced, when she grew too old for books with pictures, to conjure up storybook settings, our writer has been placing the fiction she reads in the homes she knows.
Turning an elevated corner, in the crook of which stands a decaying apartment, shades drawn to half-mast, darkness inside where life is shared with a world not paying attention, our writer does light research.
Wandering along the Arbat in Moscow, Elizabeth Kiem finds the residence of a Russian singer who spent a year in a concentration camp during World War II, and who claims never to have known her true home.
Some claim Russia's Medvedev is a False Dmitry; others--especially the new prime minister--insist he's the real deal. A look at Russia's post-election party-protests.
After a life spent telling stories in two different tongues, the American translator of Umberto Eco and Italo Calvino is struggling with his own.
Facebook is old news for the sub-30 set, but plenty of their elders are tuning in, logging on, and tossing cows.
For 45 years, the weekend after Labor Day has closed out the season for Astroland Park. This year, with the fate of Coney Island in the balance, the weekend passed without resolution.
What do you get when you marry Rodriguez to Rodriguez, double it, parcel it out, deliver it from evil and send it back to church?
Coney Island's annual Siren Festival is billed as the largest free outdoor indie music festival in New York. This year's lineup included 14 bands--all of which were free, outdoor, and apparently, indie.
Lev Nussimbaum spent the second half of his life as a refashioned Muslim prince--before meeting an early end in Italy.
Coney Island celebrated the Fourth by crowning the first American hot-dog eating champion in seven years.
Celebrating a quarter-century, Coney Island's Mermaid Parade is a reminder that for some, changing times should be ignored.
As Coney Island gears up for its annual fancy-dress bacchanalia, the mermaids on parade contemplate the legendary funpark's mortality. Part three of "Astroland's Last Summer" by ELIZABETH KIEM.
Coney Island's Bowery was once lined with attractions for six straight blocks. Today it is largely shuttered, pending a new wave of development.
Coney Island is under siege, and for Astroland lovers it's hard to tell if the pirates are friend or foe.
Home is where writers often retreat to focus on work, not receive visitors. Here's the author of The Ginger Man at his Irish estate. Lock your doors, Salinger.
You've read much about Boris Yeltsin's legacy this week. His biggest may be the mean little man in the Kremlin who's the butt of few jokes.
The self-made jury has handed down its decision: For his previous life in the Waffen SS, Günter Grass--and his work--should receive the maximum penalty.
He's gone. He's been gone for some time. I'd still come running, though, at the very first note. Just one little round of the Masterpiece Theatre theme, and I'm all his, that little gas-lighting corporate mascot.
Though it was dark for over 30 years, the neon sign above the New Yorker Hotel, for many of its former residents, never truly dimmed. Attending the hotel's anniversary celebration, the night the lights switched back on in Midtown.