Americans have always regarded their cars as more than vehicles, and nothing demonstrates that aspiration better than the typography and proper nouns used to name those dreams.
Stunt memoirs are ubiquitous: writers who eat, pray, and love straight into their bank accounts. But what happens when the material for your book—for which you took a dozen amusement park jobs to acquire—isn’t all hijinks and zany locals? What if it’s rather nice?
Artist colonies are mysterious places. Available only to a select few, supposedly teeming with alcohol, affairs, and creative hoodoo. But the rumors aren’t true—they just lack detail. From last summer, scenes and lessons from three residencies.
Rules are strict. Instructions are confusing, intimidating. Are your possessions “unclean” and therefore banned? Will you survive? A guide through the rules and corporate yatter of London’s sparkling Olympic mess.
For Americans, invitations to Israel—with lavish parties, higher education, and United Airlines tote bags—come easy. But if your homeland lies elsewhere, Israel’s welcome is far less loving.
Every year in July, people are injured—some killed—during Spain’s San Fermín festival when bulls run the streets. So what inspires someone to participate? A report from inside one man’s skull just before last week’s rocket went off.
The next time jet lag ruins your day—exhausted, yawning, blurry-eyed, fiending for any means of correction—what if you were to stop looking for a cure inside purgatory and, instead, embrace the cloud?
The thing you’ve come to Sevilla to see is the ritualized killing of bulls. What you also see: ancient architecture, handsome crowds, enormous animals, glittering suits, red capes, long swords, tradition.
Being overseas, the traveler is often taken for a diplomat—to explain his native country’s strange ways and beliefs. For example, why do all Americans belong to cults? What does Michelle Pfeiffer eat for breakfast? And why so many guns?
Our man in Boston talks to the Pulitzer-winning novelist about his new memoir, Thoughts Without Cigarettes, as well as nights in New York, parks in Berlin, how publishing currently compares to Indian restaurants, what life would be like if Mambo Kings hadn’t hit it big, and the difficulties of writing about yourself.
Selected as a notable work for The Best American Essays 2013, a writer takes a two-week journey across the United States—specifically visiting towns named Paris, with a clipboard and a hundred questionnaires—to uncover what Americans really think about the French today.
Twenty years ago—or even 10—Nashville was falling to the bottom of any list of top U.S. destinations. Music City’s recent resurgence is a reminder of what Americans really value.