Childhood memoirs in the LRB archive by Hilary Mantel, Richard Wollheim, Lorna Sage, Edward Said, Mary-Kay Wilmers, Rosemary Dinnage, David Sylvester, Jenny Diski, Sean Wilsey, Lorna Finlayson, Yun...
Among the warring tribe of unsponsored fundamentalist poets, a full flush of broadsheet obituaries – the Times, Telegraph, Guardian, New York Times – is a light-deflecting singularity. But there are special cases. As if to make recompense for the substantial reviews they never delivered, the major culprits gave generous space to Prynne, who died, aged 89, on 22 April.
R oy Cohn has been dead for forty years, but Donald Trump still yearns for him, his first lawyer and his fiercest. Who else could take an attack meant for Trump and return it a thousand – . . .
E arlier this year someone told me they’d seen ‘something online’ about Andy Burnham, back when he was mayor of Greater Manchester, appearing on Celebrity Mastermind and taking . . .
O lga Freidenberg, a Russian literary scholar born in Odessa in 1890, best known as a cousin and youthful confidante of Boris Pasternak, had what looks on the face of it like a successful Soviet . . .
O n 3 August, after a long drive from Dubrovnik Airport, we turned off the Adriatic Highway to rendezvous with a guy on a motorbike, who would show us the way through the darkness to our holiday . . .
This is an essay about hands and handwriting. I think of handwriting as a way to organise thought into shapes. I like shapes. I like organising them. But because of recent neurological changes in my brain I find shapes fall apart on me.
The invitation said ‘black dress for Ladies’. ‘You’re not allowed to be whiter than him,’ my husband, Jason, instructs. ‘He has to be the whitest. And you cannot wear a hat because that is his thing.’
Only the hardest heart would repress a twitch of sympathy. To live on the receiving end of so much gush and so much abuse, to be simultaneously spoilt rotten and hopelessly infantilised, how well would any of us stand up to it?
At its best, our relationship was rather like the one between Dame Edna and her feeble sidekick Madge – or possibly Stalin and Malenkov. Sontag was the Supremo and I the obsequious gofer. Whenever she came to San Francisco, usually once or twice a year, I instantly became her female aide-de-camp.
I cannot recall the crucial incident itself, can only remember how I cringed when my parents told me about it, proudly, some years later, when I was about nine or ten. We had gone to a tea-shop on boat-race day where a lady had kindly asked whether I was Oxford or Cambridge. I had answered: ‘I’m a Jew.’
I am not entirely content with the degree of whiteness in my life. My bedroom is white; white walls, icy mirrors, white sheets and pillowcases, white slatted blinds. It’s the best I could do.
Grandfather’s skirts would flap in the wind along the churchyard path, and I would hang on. He often found things to do in the vestry, excuses for getting out of the vicarage (kicking the swollen door, cursing) and so long as he took me he couldn’t get up to much. I was a sort of hobble; he was my minder and I was his.
Faust, despairing of all philosophies, may yet drain a marsh or rescue some acres from the sea.
When I used to give a survey course for first-year students, I dreaded December. That was when I reached the High Renaissance and my audience fell away. It was not only the alternative seasonable...
Childhood memoirs in the LRB archive by Hilary Mantel, Richard Wollheim, Lorna Sage, Edward Said, Mary-Kay Wilmers, Rosemary Dinnage, David Sylvester, Jenny Diski, Sean Wilsey, Lorna Finlayson, Yun...
Writing about the White House by Christopher Hitchens, Jenny Diski, Stephen Greenblatt, Linda Colley, J. Hoberman, David Runciman, Michael Rogin and Colm Tóibín.
Iain Sinclair gives a tour around the area near his home in Hackney, London.
Bee Wilson talks through Alma Mahler’s life, music, relationships and anti-semitism.
Will Self visits Prague for a walking tour in search of Franz Kafka’s genius loci. In the film, Will visits several Kafka sights as part of his research for a digital essay for the LRB, ‘Kafka’s...
Anthony Wilks visits poet George Szirtes to find out about the story of Szirtes’ mother, Magda, a Hungarian photographer who survived two concentration camps and escaped Budapest for England...
Patricia Lockwood travels through the internet and wonders why we're talking like this.
In the first of two podcasts, Olivier Roy tells Adam Shatz about his experiences with the Gauche prolétarienne in the 1960s and his early travels in Afghanistan.
In the second part of their conversation, Olivier Roy and Adam Shatz discuss the deculturation of Islam, and why it has led to the radicalisation of so many second-generation immigrants and converts
The man in whose image North Korea was made was formed in very particular circumstances. Over a life corresponding closely to Eric Hobsbawm’s short 20th century, Kim Il-sung faced both the modernity...
Mother had wanted the social gift of Eton, so Mother reaped the social gift of Eton. Mother wanted. So she could be correspondingly disappointed. What did Father want?
Joyce stands out among the great modernist writers for his belief in tolerance, equality, democracy, progress and the preciousness of the everyday. If he is outrageously experimental, he is also...
As one half of the independent press Allison & Busby, Margaret Busby published writers including Buchi Emecheta, Roy Heath and John Edgar Wideman, helping books to move across national borders. In...
Malachi Whitaker’s father, a bookbinder, was her earliest patron and critic. He paid sixpence for her first poem, but dismissed her second: ‘You’re too late, lass. Shakespeare said this...
Nearly fifteen years after Girls, the way Lena Dunham embodied the character of Hannah Horvath doesn’t seem like a confession, an outrage or a gimmick, but an articulation of girlhood. Through her,...
Recently I had an opportunity to check in on the state of American Catholicism. The occasion was a tradcath wedding in St Louis, greyscale city of my teenage years, and the last place I truly believed...
Working at George, JFK Jr’s magazine, was never dull, despite the contradictions emanating from the editor-in-chief – and often because of them. For many of the staff, it became a life. Towards...
Harrison’s life and career were part of the postwar flowering of the avant-garde, which reached its apotheosis in the 1970s. Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow won the National...
Being underestimated was Indira Gandhi’s chief political asset. The Congress elders who helped her become India’s third prime minister in 1966 imagined that they were installing a pliable...
When Pamela Digby Churchill Hayward Harriman died in 1997, having suffered a brain haemorrhage in the pool of the Paris Ritz, the tributes divided into accounts of a harsh life powered by sex,...
‘The qualities of a second-rate writer can easily be defined, but a first-rate writer can only be experienced,’ Willa Cather wrote. ‘It is just the thing in him which escapes analysis...
Huey Long – Louisiana’s legendary governor, senator and would-be presidential candidate – loved the campaign trail. ‘Watch me vaudeville ’em,’ he would...
Brown’s premiership was left as a bit of a mystery: an example of formidable talent, experience and hard work somehow not being enough; and of a politician highly successful at reducing poverty...
A girl doesn’t have to fall into Epstein’s clutches to see sexual abuse up close, and if she gets through childhood without experiencing it, she will probably find out that some close friend...
With some people, money and sex are the only truths. It’s the ultimate delinquency to believe that gratification itself is power. When a lazy aristocrat from a dying dynasty uses a helicopter to...
As Stephen Greenblatt’s Dark Renaissance shows despite itself, it is not Marlowe’s life story that we still need, but his plays and poems: we might well want to avert our eyes from the bathetically...
Since her death, much of what was said by and about Brigitte Bardot feels even less trustworthy than it was in her lifetime. In her early career she was surrounded by ‘a tremendous cloud of ballyhoo’,...
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