I've written before about the Crippen & Landru publication of The Archer Files: The Complete Short Stories of Lew Archer, Private Investigator, Including Newly Discovered Case Notes, edited by Tom Nolan, which has a cover by my buddy Jeff Wong, who also happens to be an internationally acknowledged expert on Macdonald.
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at 10 minutes ago
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
For 10 whole minutes. . . .
According to an AP poll, one out of every four Americans hasn't read a single book in the last year. Okay, maybe I can believe that, but whenever I read articles like this, they inevitably include some guy (and yes, it is always a guy) who says something like, "I just don't have time for fiction, when I read I want to learn something."
Journalist Malcolm McPherson has become satiric novelist Malcolm McPherson. How come? Because the best stories in his reporter's notebook stayed in his reporter's notebook.
Alexander Zakharov posts, well, a Soviet poster every day. Best of all, he provides a lot of useful historical and artistic context for them. I've always been fascinated by the visual bravura of these posters, now I get to discover the "hidden" meaning to them, which, of course, weren't hidden to the proletariat .
Once united by poverty and marginalization, American Indians are now confronting success and wealth, thanks to their new casinos. How can that be a bad thing?
Florence Foster Jenkins was many things. A teacher, a philanthropist, and a kind and generous friend, by many accounts. What she was not, was a gifted vocal artist, despite her unshakable belief to the contrary.