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Caught in the Light
Thursday October 8, 2009
For most of my adult life, I’ve been resistant to allegiance—to people, to places. The latter may seem strange, since I’ve lived in northern New England on and off since 1972. In many ways, Maine’s iron earth seems my native country. But then, on other days, I think....
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Commonplace Masterpieces
Wednesday October 7, 2009
A tricycle on a neighborhood sidewalk in Memphis, 1970: the seat, body, and fenders are a space-metal blue—the post and handlebars, a refrigerator white, except for two bright red hand grips. A caustic layer of hard rust cuts deep into the metal from the wear of countless rainstorms. But above all....
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Mad about Mad Men
Tuesday October 6, 2009
Being a writer and producer in television, I’m not always the most dedicated or up-to-date audience member of the medium. Call me disloyal, indifferent, or even lazy, but most days after having spent hours at the office racking my brain on this or that story, outline, or script, the last thing I want to do is....
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The ’59 Sound, the ’75 Sound, and the Church of Rock ‘n Roll
Monday October 5, 2009
Contrary to the hyperbole you hear from some music critics, rock 'n roll did not save my life. I grew up in the insulated worlds of Worthington, Ohio and Park Forest, Illinois, where I was more likely to die of fertilizer poisoning than gang warfare....
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A Hundred Years of Love
Friday October 2, 2009
Gerald Martin’s new biography of Gabriel García Márquez and the fine review of it in The New York Review of Books (July 16, 2009) have taken me back to my first love affair with One Hundred Years of Solitude. Published as Cien Años de Soledad in Buenos Aires in 1967, the novel instantly thrust García Márquez....
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