Good books are frequently credited with being worth reading twice. But when was the last time anyone had time for that?
As New York City changes, so do its trains; our worries about life above and below ground move hand in hand. So which came first, the jitters or the subway?
Good book clubs rely on commitment, Sauvignon Blanc, and the pruning of members with annoying habits. Unfortunately, sometimes those members are homicidal maniacs. From March, a primer on how to tell.
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.
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.”
Our Man in Boston sits down for this third conversation with author, critic, and book-world majordomo Sven Birkerts to talk about the current reviewing situation, the best books of 2000, and Amy Winehouse.
When you’ve long been identified as a “literary type,” how can it be that receiving books as get-well gifts leaves you feeling empty, angry, and determined to chug YouTube straight?
All year long, we keep track of the books we think will be great candidates for the tournament—books we loved, books we talked about, books we heard discussed...
To be considered, tell us in 100 words or less why you should be a judge in the 2012 ToB, and email your entry by midnight EST on Wednesday, Nov. 16, to talk...
Today, from 2-3:00 p.m., the Biblioracle will use his magical powers to recommend the next book you’ll love. Prior to that, a call-to-arms to save the plight of reading and an announcement about the 2012 Tournament of Books reader-judge contest.
You are what you read. For some, that means 22 boxes of books. Facing a storage crisis of bibliolatry proportions, our writer surveys e-readers and a life spent reading.
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.