Dreamers Rise

He caught sight of the girl on his way out, in the late afternoon heat and haze. For an hour or so, after the last bell, he had marked up a ...

The first time he turned to look back towards the harbor, ten minutes later, he could make out nothing of the town except a water tower and ...

He stood alone. The treeless plain stretched out around him in all directions, cold and dry and monochrome. The brown earth was stoneless, w...

A brief but evocative passage from Gabriel García Márquez's Cien Años de Soledad is missing from Gregory Rabassa's US translation, ...

I bought Graham Parker's Live Alone! Discovering Japan a few years back mostly because I wanted one song (“Watch the Moon Come Down”), ...

Passing overland through Guatemala in 1839, the American explorer John L. Stephens and his travelling companion, the British artist Frederic...

I picked up a copy of this book by the blues historian and poet Samuel Charters in the Strand Bookstore in the 1970s, at a time when I was l...

Charles-Frédéric Soehnée was born on November 3, 1789 in Landau in the Rhineland, to a respectable family who several years later relocated ...

The title of Peter Case's new CD brings to mind, of course, the Walker Evans / James Agee Depression-era collaboration, Let Us Now Prai...

John Craxton is a British painter of some note, but I doubt I would know his name at all were it not for the splendid book jackets he has cr...

Thirty years ago, Dr. Generosity's was a bar on Manhattan's Upper East Side. New York City had Irish bars, punk bars, biker bars, ga...

This chapbook by songwriter Peter Case is the first installment of a promised book-length memoir, a few additional sections of which have be...

We drove along the edge of the reservoir. I looked out across the open water, frozen only here and there in patches along the shore, at the ...

In his preface to Ainu: Creed and Cult , B. Z. Seligman has this to say about the author: Neil Gordon Munro was born in Edinburgh in 1863, w...

Twice a day I pass the tiny pond. It can't be more than fifteen yards long and less than that across. There's an island in the middl...

The M Press has released a fine new collection of eight stories by Elizabeth Hand, the author of Winterlong, Mortal Love , and the forthcomi...

It wasn't that late, just a little after five, but on that evening in the last days of November it was already dark. There was too much ...

They may have come from the north, those first ones, passing along the shore of the great deep lake and into the marshes between the mountai...

A bonfire on a bare hill, whipped high by the wind. High clouds and a moon with no mercy. In the shadows apart from the blaze, scattered voi...

One The Humours of Planxty , Leagues O'Toole's collective biography of the Irish trad quartet has finally been released, a year aft...