Steve Stern’s novel about the Jewish expressionist painter Chaim Soutine is more informative than it is engaging.
Kirsty Bell’s psychological-cultural-topographical-historical walking tour of Berlin is an idiosyncratic delight.
Faleeha Hassan’s assessment of the damage America caused — through the ‘good intentions’ of regime change — may surprise many who depended on the mainstream media to learn about what happened in Iraq.
Neither book is primarily directly about the war itself. Rather, in sometimes oblique ways, they show the price paid by Ukraine’s non-combatant civilians.
The Shores of Bohemia is clearly a labor of love, and a worthy one. But John Taylor Williams’ idea of “a group portrait,” however attractive, proves impossible to pull off.
Poet John Koethe moralizes in an abstract “universal” space — some might call it versifying in a vacuum.
Alice Sedgwick Wohl has a disturbing tendency throughout the book to back away from her points even as she makes them, as if afraid she will find herself trapped in some politically incorrect cul de sac or just a bad neighborhood.
We Carry Their Bones arrives at a time of increased interest in the history of racism and reform schools, particularly in Florida.
It is dark, so very dark, at the ocean’s bottom. And yet, there is also a disquieting, wonder-filled magic in the child’s moon which hovers over these poems; an incantatory moon echoing like a lullaby, drawing on a time of innocence.
These poems are of their own time and place — written in Haiti and France early in the twentieth century — yet they remain impressively fresh.