Anne Carson, author of approximately sixteen books of poetry, essays, and translation (the precise number depends on how you count her several collaborations), is to a certain segment of the...
Three years ago I moved to a new neighbourhood in Toronto. I’m still here, making this the longest interval I have ever lived anywhere as an adult, and resulting in a novel circumstance: I have...
As every control freak knows, making lists and then crossing things off them is one of life’s great pleasures. I am the sort of person who makes a lot of lists, usually the “to-do” kind, on little...
My dad is a mountain man. Plaid outfits, skillet collection, an immunity to the smell of kerosene, idiosyncratic politics, and a wild, wiry black dog so unaccustomed to being walked on a leash that...
A friend of mine, Kate, has spent most of the past year striving to be “clothing neutral.” In practice, this meant that Kate wore more or less the same outfit every single day: A zip-up wool sweater...
Antigonick is Anne Carson’s postmodern retelling of Sophocles’ fifth century BC play Antigone, a tragedy set in Thebes. In Carson’s version, the tragedy happens largely because of bad civic governance...
Born to parents who would sleep with their heads outside the screen door, raccoons be damned, at the first sign of temperatures in the mid-twenties, I am not a person who deals especially well with...
