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Culture and Society
The Poor In Spirit, And The Rich
Book Review
Dr. Fischer is a dark God who grants us favors only at the cost of our humiliation, who eggs us on with snatches of happiness only in order to degrade us. He is a greedy God, as greedy as his creatures: he is greedy for our humiliation.
July 1980An Interview With Daphne Athas
From the minute you’re born you somehow know. But the blinders that are put up by society, and by legislated rules, are what people think of as truths. They’re not truths at all. They’re lies. They are confinements compared to the cosmic knowledge that exists.
July 1980Wrinkled Little Man With Sad Eyes
Book Review
The mature work of Somerset Maugham is nothing if not honest. It moves on the weight of his blunt, plain sentences, which he delivers to the reader like so many body blows.
June 1980A Summer’s Tale
(Part Two)
Some mornings you have a feeling everything’s going to go right. I got mine when this blond girl in an old Studebaker, wearing light blue shorts, a cotton blouse, and sunglasses perched on top of her head, stopped to pick me up. She said she had the whole day off with nothing to do.
June 1980One Hundred Years Of Solitude — An Appreciation
We forget, until a novel like One Hundred Years of Solitude reminds us, that a metaphor can be a glimpse into the interconnectedness of things, and as such, a large new breath of possibility to our pallid imaginings of self.
May 1980And That’s The Way It Is?
For a while, several years ago, I stopped watching the TV news. This was no small thing. I was in the habit of watching all three networks, often at the same time, spinning the dial with the finesse of an accomplished musician running scales on his favorite instrument.
May 1980A Summer’s Tale
(Part One)
I was actually going away. I must have waited a whole year for it but, right then, I was really depressed. If you could have seen it around my place last night you’d know what I mean. Everybody thought I’d never come back. Nobody came right out and said it, but my oldest sister, Jeannie, kept telling me how sad my hat looked.
May 1980Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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