Hemmingway dealt with plenty of horrors in his life – gouges and scrapes from bullfights and deep sea fishing, even the trenches of World War One. But he always had redemptive escapes nearby – Spanish villas, rugged African hills, Florida’s warm waters. In The Road, Cormac McCarthy has essentially written a
Shots of: Toronto, Central Park, Harriman State Park (2 snakes!), and the upper west side over the last few months.
The Knifer: The net was down and Rahim was stuck. The grey light from the rafters chunked into discrete bits, lines in the grime, delineated like the packets that just wouldn’t go down the wire. Frustrated, he stood, pushed away from the dead jack, rubbed his streaking arms. The
It was a dubious prospect that I could maintain a book-a-month pace reading something as monstrous as Neal Stephenson’s The Confusion. It took me a good 6-7 weeks to trudge through his previous offering – Quicksilver. But Neal has honed his quill this time, resulting in a more streamlined tale.
First months in New York ~