Interview with a Bookstore:
Reading Women: The Ramadan Edition
Amena Ravat Joins Kendra Winchester and Sumaiyya Naseem on Reading Women
Rebecca Solnit: When the Hero
is the Problem
On Robert Mueller, Greta Thunberg, and Finding Strength in Numbers
If Only It Were All Greek: A Reading List from Mary Norris
From Corfu to Crete, the Comma Queen Shares Her Favorites
Why, Exactly, Do We Have Subtitles on Books?
Mary Laura Philpott, Out Here Asking the Tough Questions
On the Putin System: How a Dictator Maintains His Power
Grigory Yavlinsky Considers Power and Corruption in Contemporary Russia
Beneath Every Poet, a Criminal Lurks
“Burglar, forger, safe cracker, arch-bigamist, poet, musician and prize fighter.”
Science: The ‘Colorblind’ Approach to Racism Doesn’t Work
You Can't Make Your Kids Nonracist by Pretending Race Doesn't Exist
Crossing
Pajtim Statovci, translated by David Hackston
"When I think about my own death, the moment it happens is always the same. I’m wearing a plain, colored shirt and a matching pair of pants, cut from thin material that’s easy to pull on. It’s early in the morning and I am happy, I feel the same sense of contentment and satisfaction as I do at the first mouthfuls of my favorite meal. There are certain people around me, I don’t know them yet, but one day I will, and I’m in a certain place, lying on my hospital bed in my own room, nobody is dying around me, outside the day is slowly struggling to its feet like a rheumatic old man, I hear certain words from the mouths of my loved ones, a certain touch on my hand, and the kiss on my cheek feels like the home I have built around me like a shrine."
The Republic
Joost de Vries, translated by Jane Hedley-Prôle
"Moments after arriving in Chile I slipped on the aircraft steps, and although my fall was broken by various items of hand luggage and the elderly couple in front of me, I still hit the tarmac with considerable force. I mostly felt embarrassed. A stewardess hurried over and took me to a first-aid post at the terminal, where a young doctor cleaned and bandaged the graze on my upper arm. Sorted. A mere ten minutes later I was in a taxi."
On the Stray Dogs of Mexico City:
a History and a Hymn
Chloe Aridjis Wanders from the Novels of Juan Rulfo to the Beaches of Oaxaca
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