A House With Too Many Doors
A review of Ilse Kovac's new novel about three sisters who inherit a house that keeps rearranging itself.
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A review of Ilse Kovac's new novel about three sisters who inherit a house that keeps rearranging itself.
A review of the festival favorite "Low Tide," a two-hour film about a family that mostly just waits for the ferry.
The strip mall is the most honest building type we have produced in a century - it promises nothing it does not deliver, which may be why we cannot forgive it.
The obituary has quietly changed shape in the last decade - less achievement, more anecdote - and the shift tells us something about what we now think a life is for.
A review of the museum's disorienting new galleries, built with floors and walls deliberately off the level.
A review of a new biography that treats its subject's discarded drafts as more honest than any of her finished books.
Nobody expects the sequel to be better. We watch it anyway, for reasons that have very little to do with quality and everything to do with company.
Somewhere in the basement is a piece nobody currently on staff has ever seen catalogued, in a museum that has otherwise done everything right.
Every restoration is also an erasure - of dirt, yes, but also of the centuries the dirt was quietly recording.
The novel is six hundred pages of genuine craft attached to an ending that never comes, and I am no longer sure the author thinks that is a flaw.