Ray Donovan is Nathanael West’s Day of the Locust brought up to date, an ongoing examination and indictment of the sad, ruthless culture that is today’s showbiz Los Angeles.
Cormac McCarthy is our Balzac of dope.
"Interesting" encounters at the underground paper The Drummer. Ah, the '60s.
This is a book of stunning honesty and self-awareness and inspired observation. Its humanity is as blinding and magnificent and humble as its prose is magesterial.
Back in his wayward youth, Bob Ingram met a lot of jazz greats — including, on one memorable night, sax great Pharoah Sanders and "Band of Gold" singer Freda Payne.
Election Day is a chance to feel good about America — isn't it?
Jack was Thomas Wolfe to my Truman Capote. We were would-be writers in love with the idea of each other, young and drunk and 20, and it was enough for that time. When did we change, and how, and why?
Football was once a game. Now it's a genuine national religion, complete with rituals filched from Christianity, Judaism and Islam, not to mention the Mayans.
The kid impressed everyone at the boxing club with his moves and his mouth. But after all, this was only Wildwood, and he was only 19.
“Boss” offers a dark, detailed, unsparing look at how a big city— in this case, Chicago— actually works.