Books
Boston Ballet’s reconstructed versions of Yakobson’s Pas de Quatre and four Choreographic Miniatures were a revelation.
Antoine Volodine is a master of the prolonged, very prolonged, tongue-in-cheek spoof. But he is also dead serious.
Makine may be plagiarizing himself, which is a perfectly legitimate thing for a writer to do, but scenes of spring snow and railroad stations become clichés even in talented hands.
John Taylor introduces readers to an amazing array of sensibilities and life histories in a babel of languages from an atlas of nations.
The Bloody Hand stands alongside other autobiographical classics devoted to the First World War.
This anthology is thought-provoking and often moving; a spearhead into a relatively undiscussed new demographic.
More than a mere novel, The Wake is really a medieval epic poem to an English way of life that would be erased forever.
Guitarist Jon Fine’s memoir is an intriguing blend of history, sociology, entertainment, and a healthy dose of after-hours pulp.
Tony Judt is an American treasure, in time he may prove as great to our country as George Orwell and Albert Camus are to theirs.
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