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Showing 3704 Columns
Showing 3704 Columns
February 12th, 2015
Once again, it's time. It's time to be inundated by a torrent of both overwrought sentimentality and reactionary snark. A time for feeling like your special outing might not be so special after all, as you stand in line with thirty-two other couples and grumble about how long your magical evening is taking. A time for rage-reading holiday-themed web content (ahem). A time for looking at everything, ever so briefly, through the rosy-colored lens of love or the black-lidded shades of lonerdom. It's time for Valentine's Day.
Read Column →February 12th, 2015
Happy Valentine's Day! I've got quite the treat for all you hopeless romantics out there. Hopefully you weren't too discouraged by the rough start this column got off to last month with the über-New Englander Robert Frost. I've got another American for you—and another New Englander, actually—but a woman this time, one who was obsessed with love in all its many forms and facets. Does she survive the culling, though?
Read Column →February 11th, 2015
Image by Ulysses0302 Last year, the New Yorker ran a piece called Ghosts in the Stacks that I liked simply because it began with the perfect way to talk about our current book fetish:
Read Column →February 9th, 2015
When you start talking stalkers, some famous songs spring to mind. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police. The classic in which Sting gets detailed. He'll watch every breath AND every move. Buddy, if you're watching every breath, in and out, I'll assume you'll be watching when I actually do something. What kind of stalker watches me breathe all night, but when I go out to, I don't know, skate a half-pipe, he says, "Eh. Not interested"?
Read Column →February 6th, 2015
All we hear about in February is love love love! Well, humbug! Let’s talk about the anti-love, aka great nemesis pairings in media!
Read Column →February 6th, 2015
The Dickinson House Museum is a quiet place on the outskirts of Amherst, Massachusetts. There’s nothing dark or brooding about the atmosphere there, particularly not in the poet’s bedroom, which is a comfortable space with a good amount of light. When I visited in 2013, the tour guide was careful to point out that Emily was probably somewhat livelier than the dour-faced portrait of her as a 17-year-old reveals, and her hair a more reddish hue. She had been sick just before the image was taken, unfortunately.
Read Column →February 5th, 2015
Horror's Gender Problem One of the most talked-about and critically praised horror films of the last year was The Babadook (and let me tell you, it lives up to the hype). Eschewing the modern propensity for violence and gore and hearkening back to the minimalist atmosphere and suspense that characterized the genre in decades past, the film unnerves its audience psychologically, making the few instances of visceral horror all the more effective. Given this, it seems obvious to me that a woman—Jennifer Kent—wrote and directed this gem.
Read Column →February 5th, 2015
Now, I’ll be the first person to say that I quite often write about death. I kill off a lot of people in my stories and novels—mothers dying of heartbreak, fathers seeking revenge, children, animals—you name it. There is violence in a lot of my writing. But, does that mean it has to be there, do we have to kill to have impact? Can we replace death with love, tragedy with hope? We can.
Read Column →February 4th, 2015
Dear Reader, Right now, on my desk I've got a stack of 500 love letters. Just a few more than 500, if we're being exact. It's a huge ream of paper. And because I'm an idiot, I never bothered to number the pages. Every time I pick up the stack, every time I move it around, I hold my breath. I'm terrified I'll drop it. That the pages will splash on the ground, scatter all over the place, and that's it. My whole love life, all scrambled to pieces.
Read Column →February 3rd, 2015
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