Perhaps printed books kill trees, but honestly, can you think of a more noble reason to die? Trees probably dream of the day they will be cut down and will become vehicles for human knowledge and imagination. They are probably more than willing to make the sacrifice.
Written by Lindsey Ferris Sometimes life can be mundane, and all we want is a little bit of magic to come and shake it up — a sparkle to the reality of life that makes us appreciate the everyday through a new lens. This is what magical realism does for us, whether in the realms…
This year, we lost a wonderful and inspiring creator with the death of Toni Morrison on August 5th. If a room full of critics or a shelf of scholarly reviews can’t summarize Toni Morrison’s greatness, then a single article will of course struggle to do her justice. But my reverence and admiration for such a powerful literary presence compels me to offer my personal encounter with Morrison and her work.
In ye olden times, we had real women. Women with long flowing hair who were properly grateful to be protected and provided for. These women knew feminine strength was their inherently emotional disposition, which is why they always make such caring mothers—it’s in their nature! Yes, back at the beginning, there were no frivolities like gender politics. Everybody lived as they were born: according to the great Freud, their “anatomy” was their “destiny.”
The science fiction genre has struggled with its own definition since its beginning. It encompasses everything from intergalactic space battles to horrifying dystopias, and even science fiction writers themselves disagree on exactly what it means to write sci-fi.
As a student, the end of August seems much more of a beginning than the first of January. When summer’s end is around the bend and September rolls around, I suffer a severe melancholy that can only be cured by the acutely erudite and affecting prose of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History; I’m on my sixth read.