Last week, the Nightstand received an obscure letter written with fervor and a typewriter. While we’re not so big on…
Homelands, “ports of entry,” VX nerve agent, Project Bioshield, botulinum toxin, the Korean peninsula, Hitlerism—good god, last week was fun….
Last week, you were either a This American Life person or a Salman Rushdie person, and there really was no…
A week or so ago, the Nightstand and an assortment of well-dressed Others had the good fortune to score the…
The sorry-ass state of Seattle’s spoken-word scene.
There are things to be said about this year’s National Book Award nominations—namely, about the nefarious exclusion of Jonathan Safran…
Joan Didion on terrorism and the sudden irrelevance of everything else.
ONE MONTH TO THE DAY after Sept. 11—the day everyone’s still talking about—classes are cancelled at the University of Washington….
THE CENTER OF gay things to come couldn’t be better situated: two blocks up from one boy bar, just around…
A review of the reviews of The Autograph Man.
You are the age you are now but in 1937. There is no television, of course, which accounts for something—as…
And nine other things you should know when buying rare books.
David Shields’ minor work shows major ego.
Beer and loathing, college-style.
Jeffrey Steingarten is back, and hungrier than ever.
Test your knowledge of Mariel and Sarah, memoirists.
Edmund White’s classic turns 20.
A highly biased guide to this weekend’s festival.
Watching and being watched at Hugo House.
The three staffers directly responsible for making this year’s Bookfest the best in recent memory lost their jobs last week….