Top
Sign up
This form does not yet contain any fields.
    Administrator

    Recent stories

    Saturday
    Jan212017

    1. Wayne Barrett, The Best Reporter I Ever Knew

    THE NEW REPUBLIC - 20 JANUARY 2017

     My first day working for Wayne Barrett in the fall of 2004, I was one of six terrified interns, all of us sitting in a windowless room at The Village Voice, listening to a man in Brooklyn barking orders over a speakerphone. I was somehow nominated the stenographer and tapped furious notes—pausing to stare at the others in bafflement—as this loud and blunt man, Wayne Barrett, rattled off assignments.

    Click to read more ...

    Saturday
    Jan212017

    2. Loss haunts Rabih Alameddine's new novel, 'Angel of History'

    THE LOS ANGELES TIMES - 16 OCTOBER 2016

    A man awaits his fate at a San Francisco psychiatric hospital. His partner is dead. Nearly an entire generation is gone. But not all is lost for our hero, Jacob, born Ya’qub; he is the product of a brief tryst between a powerful man in Beirut and a woman from Yemen who later takes her gifted son to live in a Cairo whorehouse to thrive under the care of a voluptuous auntie named Badeea. Back in Lebanon, more or less ignored by his father, he’s so savagely beaten by bigger boys at a Catholic orphanage that his battered body must be sent to Sweden. In San Francisco, years later, he’s an Arab male and a homosexual and one of the last of his kind — everyone else felled either by the great calamity of AIDS or the furious meat grinder that is life as an Arab. Oh, and he talks regularly with Satan. And the Devil.

    Click to read more ...

    Saturday
    Jan212017

    3. Right by the beach, and the bus depot

    THE LOS ANGELES TIMES - 6 MARCH 2016

    The house my wife found in Venice was close to the beach. It was also alarmingly close to Division Six: a 3.5-acre bus depot ringed by tall fencing and barbed wire. On the sidewalk out front, happy people walked by, carrying surfboards or shopping bags. Just as continuously, in and out of the depot, the variously numbered orange city buses lumbered and wheezed.

    I wanted the house, yet I did not want the house. And then it didn't matter, because it was ours.

    Click to read more ...