Widower's Tango

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies benea...

Growing up in the 1960s, I went to the movies on weekends. My father, who had been a serious and successful poker player in his youth, s...

It is once again my birthday – my thirteenth on this blog, my sixty-second on this earth. This day is also significant to the Social Secur...

As I started to read Richard Yates’s novel Revolutionary Road last week, I found that, against my will, I couldn’t get the pictures from ...

The word “dystopian” is commonly used to describe a narrative work – a novel, play or film – that is set in some terrible, nightmarish b...

I have always loved silent films, but I don't think I know why. I have some theories, but maybe it's nothing but the magic artific...

Having finally found the right moment, this past week, a month away from my 62nd birthday, to read Herman Melville’s Billy Budd (1) was...