Readers of a certain age will remember how, in the wake of President Kennedy’s assassination, a list of eerie parallels between his life and death and that of Abraham Lincoln began to circulate.
Some say you can find the heart and soul of Massachusetts on the town greens of its many picturesque villages.
Our pulses are quickened by the prospect of a literary catfight, just as the hearts of men beat faster when they approach the scene of a high-stakes sporting event.
There was, above all the others, Nora. Because of our shared history of kidding around, we could make each other crack up across a conference room just by lifting eyebrows at the right moment in a boring business meeting.
Crime fiction suffers from guilt by association with its subject matter; why should you be concerned with murder and mayhem perpetrated by and among a bunch of low-lifes when you could be consuming the passion of Madam Bovary, the lost weekend of preppie Holden Caulfield, or War and Peace?
by Stephen ParrishIllusions was Richard Bach’s encore to Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and in my opinion, his magnum opus as well.
In August of 1966 a vacationing John Updike responded to a questionnaire he received that posed the question “Are you for, or against, the intervention of the United States in Vietnam?”
by Con ChapmanThere are two types of people—those who “get” poetry, and those who don’t.
Moore’s a master of the short, witty essay, and this book is a collection of some of his best.
She seemed an unlikely candidate to be a writer, and few people in the London suburb where she lived—and which she satirized in her writing—knew her as one.
I dropped in on my state rep and asked him if he could get me on as Massachusetts poet laureate.
by Vivian WagnerMy love of randomness started when I went to a weekend writers’ retreat and heard a presentation by the mystery novelist Kylie Logan about using tarot cards to inspire our writing.
It’s Saturday, the day I check in on my fellow rustic poet, old man Frost, who lives down the road less travelled. He’s a cranky old cuss, but you would be too if you’d fallen as far as he has.
by Vivian WagnerWe weren’t supposed to worry about whether we were writers or photographers. We were just snapping photos and writing things to go along with them.