Culture

"His face is a universal language. Once a thing has taken on that much symbolism, the substance of it becomes an afterthought."

"He has gradually built distance from the awkward, skinny, high-pitched weirdo of yore, settling more comfortably into his biology like a teenager hitting puberty a couple of decades late."

"Her face is never still; it doesn’t so much beam as it flickers."

On Richard McGuire's Here.

From "the worst fucking song" Frank Sinatra ever heard to the upsetting eroticism of Rob Thomas, a comprehensive cataloging of all 55 award-winners since 1959.

The Oysters of Locmariaquer, published half a century ago, feels like a precursor to the work of Eula Biss and Leslie Jamison—minus the modern worry over the possible harm of such storytelling.

Ava DuVernay's Selma is more analytical than the average biopic—a negotiation between complex and intersecting histories, rather than a simple dramatic restaging.

The Canadian comedy fixture on punk rock, drunk dads, and adapting his life for stage and screen.

In the Ant Colony author's new book, a woman's release from a hospital stay precipitates murder, mystery, and the urban stalking of a strange, mythical cat. Well ... possibly, anyway.