Tuesday, May 3 2005
Skateboarding's like indie films or Nine Inch Nails fans: lots of flakes to wade through, but some truly interesting faces in there as well.
Márai writes of subjects we may have exhausted over coffee or tequila, but haven't quite figured out: what it means to love, to lust, and to live.
Scott A. Sandage reminds us of an age-old fault even more despicable than being broke: to lack ambition in an America where 'berry picking was a higher crime than bankruptcy.'"
Monday, April 25 2005
She never becomes much more than a cipher for Winslow's waning desires and advancing age-- part muse, part male fantasy, but very little character.
Where are Lisa Cholodenko, Sofia Coppola, and countless other writers and directors who assume and reveal the complexity of people and their situations.
You don't read No God But God. You face a struggle between the text, your personal opinions, and what little you know about Islam.
If any of these scenarios intrigue you, Atkinson has already done the easiest part of her job.
Vincent Nolan's act is a convincing one; one that even he begins to believe the more he preaches it.
Tuesday, April 19 2005
The joke does, of course, wear thin, but Silverstein's poems are smarter and more robust to rely entirely on this gimmick.
The problem with the decontextualization of the yo mama joke is that the fun of yo mama snaps has always been the interplay between the joker and the jokee.
One could say that John Tolley possesses a prevalent characteristic of modern times -- the preoccupation with celebrity, especially those notorious for their exploits.
What separates Connolly from the pack, however, is that the guy can also be very, very funny.
Tuesday, April 12 2005
We find out that the real hell exists on earth in the forms of war, death and destruction.
I found my brows had furrowed, my fingers were numb, and I wanted to put the book down and run away. And then I realized -- that's why I read horror fiction.
Idle's humanity, ultimately, saves this book from becoming a run-of-the-mill title that usually clogs the humor section at your local bookstore.
Ray Bradbury's stories stick in the mind like myths, because they are so terrible and vehement in their plotting.
Tuesday, April 5 2005
Fattaruso avoids letting the tale drown in its own inventiveness, instead impelling the undersized novel's surrealist vibe with the romantic heart of a poet, a Fellini film scripted by Neruda.
Man, I cannot begin to bitch enough about impenetrable prose of the sort you'd normally find on the lyric sheet to 'The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway'.
When Boyd does make attempts at description, he produces painful prose. The boxing metaphors just keep coming.
For readers who see specters of the Tyrel Corporation in headlines every day, Naam's relentlessly optimistic take on the future of biotechnology is a tough pill to swallow.