For residents of Patsy Cline’s hometown of Winchester, Va., the struggle over how to remember the famous country singer begins with deciding what sort of a legacy she left—and whether they want it.
Our man in Boston sits down for a frank accounting with Tony Horwitz, author of beloved works like Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches From the Unfinished Civil War. Here they chat about his new book on John Brown—still a divisive figure in America, particularly in these days of terrorism—and the hazards of politicians reading too much.
Our man in Boston talks with writer Ron Rash about his latest book, America’s great regional voices, the high percentage of readers in New Zealand and Australia, and the misery that accompanies putting a novel together, where it’s rather more fun to stick pencils in your eyes.
Continuing our series of randomly calling people around the U.S. to find out what’s going on in their towns, this time we focus on the Olympics—how do folks who come from the same communities as America’s Olympians feel about their star athletes?
After a rape, the world is remade. A story of violence, true love, cars, defeat, madness, the road from New York to Lexington, and the religion that is college basketball. Victory has many faces—some of them just happen to be painted.
A two-week journey across the US—specifically towns named Paris, with a clipboard and a hundred questionnaires—to uncover what Americans think about the French.
Tornado season is a distant concept for most people. For some, it’s a scary but known part of life. Then there’s what happens when one of the South’s deadliest storms in history destroys your house.
Hank Williams III blew the doors off country music last fall when he released three ambitious, experimental albums all on the same day. A conversation about tradition, hardcore, and punishment.
An unfinished autobiography and a 1980s biopic turned Frances Farmer, one of the great golden-era stars, into a lobotomized zombie. The main trouble: Frances Farmer wasn’t lobotomized. An investigation to set one of Hollywood’s most convoluted stories straight.
The pictures in Susan Lipper’s series may come from West Virginia, but they could be found off dozens of American byways.
Florida is America’s most-abused state, and Tallahassee its biggest target for bi-coastal writers who pick low-hanging fruit—rednecks, old people—and wouldn’t know an alligator from their elbow. The slander has gone far enough. On behalf of every Tallahussey and T-Town man, let the corrections begin.
New York is supposedly the home of the willful and headstrong, the forthright and brassy—but when a cousin from Nashville rolls into town, everyone else seems meek.