A superb new translation in one volume of the two Chéri novellas, regarded as Colette’s masterwork.
A.B. Yehoshua was anything but a provincial Israeli writer. He was literary giant whose imaginative gift was so striking and diverse that you never knew what he would do next.
We now have a book that virtually closes the circle on Hemingway’s women, a biography that will be treasured by the author’s fans and scholars.
This is an extraordinarily beautiful book, its present tense prose creating “an atmosphere of literature,” in Virginia Woolf’s words, its honest probing as illuminating as anything you will read about what it means to be Jewish.
The idea of America is elusive and sometimes, like right now, in danger of disappearing. That is why I have found myself turning for comfort to two books that can give us some perspective as to how to move forward.
If you love fiction you should devote several hours to watching Hemingway. Ken Burns and Lynn Novick have brought a special tenderness to this series, something deeper and more compelling than previous Burns documentaries.
This is a great work, more linear than Tom Stoppard’s earlier dramas, yet filled with such intelligence and compassion that it will be read and seen for years and years and, perhaps, over time be regarded as his richest, most haunting play.
What a pleasure it is to revel in this work, which expresses enduring values in such an original way.
Although some of Apeirogon is painful, this novel can inspire you to think differently and even to act, which is surely welcome after this horrible year in which we have all felt so helpless.
What Ayad Akhtar reveals, with stunning detail and a passion and an urgency rarely seen in American fiction, is that his is a story marked by a loneliness similar to that found in Melville, Dreiser, and T.S. Eliot, among others, and that puts him squarely in their company.