When four teenagers killed a 13-year-old behind a Smithtown school by stuffing rocks down his throat it became a cautionary tale for kids like Matthew McGevna, who went on to fictionalize it into his debut novel in a tried-andtrue attempt to get at the crux of the matter through storytelling.
Even if you’re not a big fan of trends, fads, sweatpants, rolled mats tucked under the arm signaling hip and healthful purpose, gyms, alien Eastern religions, stretching-induced flatulence, cultural co-optation by whites, therapy of any kind, or sincerity generally, kids change everything, kids make it all right, kids doing yoga will bring a smile...
If women ruled the world, begins a contemporary theory, war would become a relic of the past — chiefly because women would never put anything as petty as dominance at the top of their governing agenda.
The compiler of this column doesn’t expect anyone to remember a tossed-off challenge in the Oct. 1 paper in which, vis-a-vis a bookstore appearance, he suggested there isn’t an architecture critic more eminent than Paul Goldberger, but should a reader come up with one, put it in the U.S. Mail, and a prize could await.
“I liked it and I didn’t.” What better words to begin this review than Ernest Hemingway’s first words in his letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald after reading “Tender Is the Night,” Fitzgerald’s novel in which he muddled my grandparents, Sara and Gerald Murphy, with himself and Zelda.
This sixth book on East Hampton history edited by the late Tom Twomey is a worthy addition to a series that began with “Awakening the Past: The East Hampton 350th Anniversary Lecture Series, 1998.” Subsequent volumes reprinted writings by Henry Hedges and Jeannette Edwards Rattray, among others, with one book devoted to articles on Gardiner’s...
Goldberger on Gehry
If you can name an architecture critic more eminent than Paul Goldberger, mail your entry to this paper’s venerable Main Street office and you could receive a Star baseball cap, depending on our whim.
Just imagine for a moment that you have the most useless job in the world: to set up a list of painful and impossible theses for literary critics to explore. The top of your torture list of prospective titles might read a lot like Joseph Tabbi’s new book, “Nobody Grew but the Business: On the Life and Work of William Gaddis.”