As cool as Marlon Brando, James Dean, Jack Kerouac or Dalton Trumbo, rebel Max "Flaco" Greenbaum grows up in Watts Riots-Vietnam-draft-era L.A. Too smart (and smart-mouthed) for school, the violence of this world is drawn in deep and lingers like the long, slow, life-saving drag of a cigarette.
While we feast on fictionalized (and real) tales of murder and awfulness, we really just want to live our lives in peace and are not interested in preying upon one another. Our essential goodness has become clear during our times of COVID-19.
From the onset, Amanda Gorman's poem, "The Hill We Climb", dissolves the ideology that a presidential inauguration announces the new and deracinates the present from the past.
To this day, the history of people of color in England is often erased from dominant cultural narratives. Fictions, however, can collectively shift cultural narratives; we need stories to counter stories.
In that fine tradition of Latin American culture, Diego Armando Maradona was nothing if not a magical realist. Unconcerned with good and evil, he embodied that ancient connection between children and godliness.
As the COVID-19 pandemic upends our families, communities, and way of life, children, especially, struggle with loss. Rachel Shukert's Netflix series, The Baby-Sitters Club can help.
Fandom, powered by nostalgia, is gigantic, uncloseted and, unfortunately, argumentative. It's so powerful it has driven creators away from their creations. How do we control that rabid drive to "own" someone else's works?
With the fall of the Berlin Wall came the licence to take a wrecking ball to its nightmare of repression. But there began the unwritten violence of Die Wende, the peaceful revolution that hides the Oedipal violence of one order killing another.