The Box by Marc Levinson
I’ve got two different nonfiction reading friends (more, I’m sure, but two with whom I compare notes). One of them always wants books that brings him into the world of something—like Fatsis’ tremendous Word Freak or Blythe’s dynamite To Hate Like This is to Be Happy Forever. The other reader [...]
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: This might be one of the most aching books of poetry I’ve read in a long, long time. Aching in the sense of almost, an infinite almost through the pages of the book. As in: twelve of the poems in here (by my count there are sixteen poems total, if you count Rising, Falling, Hovering [...]
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Three or four of the best times I’ve had in my life have been as a member of a wedding party for friends and family. I’m not joking. Girls seem to have it incredibly tough, with the hair and the make-up and the dresses and the what-all, but guys (or at least the guys [...]
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I want to read more fiction. I really do. In fact, I have an impressive stack of newly acquired novels waiting on the coffee table. These novels, however, have been duly ignored for a few weeks now, and I blame Rusty Morrison. You see, every couple of months I stumble into a collection of poetry [...]
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Benjamin Wallace’s The Billionaire’s Vinegar came in the mail yesterday and I picked it up yesterday evening thinking to just page through it and maybe read the first little bit of it. Six hours later, after a quick trip to the grocery store for a bottle of wine, I was paging through to the book’s [...]
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