While I focus on things other than blogging this month, I’m running a series on independent bookstores. Below Michael Gorra, a critic and Smith College English Lit professor, recalls visits to his favorite Hamburg bookshop, the Bücherstube Stolterfoht, where he yearned for every volume although (or maybe because) all but the children’s titles were beyond the reach of his German. . . .
“Now, I realize that I’m not gay.” This kids’ book may be old, but “reparative therapy” still thrives in fundie groups. Don’t believe me? Meet my mother.
Richard Eder admires the way Rupert Thomson’s Death of a Murderer mines both the fascination with and horror of Britain’s moors murders.
Kate Christensen doesn’t invent places for her stories; she uses real ones. Her new novel unfolds partly in her own Greenpoint, Brooklyn home. (See also.)
While I focus on things other than blogging this month, I’m running a series on independent bookstores. Below Michael Kennedy, a writer and former journalist living in Tokyo, remembers Kenny’s Bookshop of Galway, Ireland, which closed its doors in 2005 to sell exclusively online. Since my connection to Ireland is one generation removed, I have returned to County Mayo several . . .