Topics | Culture and Society | The Sun Magazine #319

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Culture and Society

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Another Appetite

There’s a cool, shady corner in the kitchen. That’s where I raise a simple crop that’s not dependent on sparse rain clouds or my depleted compost pile. Sprouts: lentils and alfalfa are best. Mung beans are pretty good, soy beans, too.

By Judy Bratten June 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Poetry: From The Factory

Poetry, like all the arts, has taken a turn toward the diffuse since World War 2. By diffuse, I mean the opposite of the exactness that went into the work of the masters, the pointedness of a strong sensibility.

By Richard Williams June 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

She Would Have Been A Taxi Dancer, But He Couldn’t Hail A Cab

Book Review

Manning demonstrates a rather considerable talent for manipulating vocabulary and for wringing every ounce of nuance possible from a word or phrase.

By Dee Dee Small June 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Long Ride Into The Sunset

So it is that my attention is drawn to Ronald Reagan and George Wallace as they go through their spirited bicentennial hustles in an effort to become top banana.

By William Gaither June 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

A Kind Word About Coffee

One legend gives the credit to Kaldi, a goatherd in Ethiopia. One day in 850 A.D. Kaldi noticed his goats, after feeding on the berries of a certain evergreen bush, began to act strangely. Enough so to make Kaldi try the beans himself.

By Mike Barefoot June 1976
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

You Eat It

Is there a right way to eat? Is there a wrong way to write about it? I’ll take the second question first. I’ve got an apple in one hand, a pen in the other, and my mouth is moving as fast as my mind. Is this as bad as talking with your mouth full, or is it the boldest kind of personal journalism?

By Sy Safransky June 1976
Fiction

Fortune Cookies

I was looking up monasteries in the yellow pages when she knocked. I was living at this time in Jersey City, N.J., on top of a meat market. It was the dingiest of places. I got up from my fleabitten couch. I opened the door to a dazzling darkhaired woman.

By Karl Grossman June 1976