Selected essays and reviews, updated sporadically:
The year before you were born, my love, I traveled constantly. It was sometimes magnificent and sometimes numbing. I was very tired, but there were moments of grace.
Spoiler alert: I have no idea why so many books have ‘girl’ in the title. But some of the numbers are fascinating.
It’s a danger I’d rank well below, say, the ever-present possibility of being hit by a car on my way to work in the morning. This possibly says more about New York City drivers than it does about Ebola.
By Grand Central Station is a staggering accomplishment, an exquisite and often ecstatic rendition of a tumultuous affair: “Jupiter has been with Leda, I thought, and now nothing can avert the Trojan wars. All legend will be broken, but who will escape alive?”
We live in a performative age. What participation in social media comes down to, I think, is that either you have an instinct for broadcasting your life, or you don't. Mary MacLane would have been a natural.
Enduring the everyday is relatively straightforward—just keep breathing and putting one foot in front of the other—but how to transcend the everyday, in this world neither you nor I have made?
This was the Midwestern tour: five cities in five days, condensed in such a manner so that I'd only have to take three days off from my day job. The stars were so bright as I was leaving Minneapolis.