Her words were tender, but raw in intonation and contained the kind of truth you can come to only after having lived through something.
We recited vows as poems, while our hippie rabbi strummed his guitar and hummed nigun that…
Nope, Roberta Flack didn’t write that song. Find out more in Thomas Larson’s review.
“When it comes to Brown’s latest, the White (or even in some cases Grimy) City should be proud,” Laurie Levy writes of Rosellen Brown’s “The Lake on Fire.”
If you take down Confederate statues, who gets on the pedestal? Steve Harvey reports on Madre Luz.
In Trump’s America, Leanne Grabel just can’t help herself.
Finally Natalia Ginzburg’s “Family Lexicon” is English and couldn’t be more timely, Natalia Nebel writes.
