The persona was the mask worn by actors in ancient Greece—but its purpose was not to fool the audience about the actor’s identity. The mask’s exaggerated expressions helped define the character, and most important, the mask functioned as a tiny megaphone, making the actor’s voice more audible.
Paul Schoomer did not care whether you came to buy or browse. For nearly thirty years, from 1969 to 1996, Schoomer was the purveyor of fine books in St. Louis. Along with his wife Suzanne, he made Paul’s Books into "Cheers" for bookworms.
Primarily a playwright, Bennett won acclaim for "The History Boys" and "The Madness of George III." That theatrical sense of pacing and dialogue keeps "The Uncommon Reader" sparkling, even (or perhaps especially) during the Queen’s internal monologues.
Novelty is what Americans are said to crave, yet it terrifies policy wonks, CEOs, art dealers, and almost everybody else. This is no time for experiments, we mutter, sharply aware of how precarious profit, amicable coexistence, and life itself are now. It is safer to follow a recipe exactly.
More than half a century later, a sign was placed on the shore of the Tallahatchie at the spot where Emmett’s body was found. The sign was ripped from the ground and probably thrown into the river as forcefully as his body had been. By the time its replacement was removed, it had been punctured by 317 bullet holes.
Bask in a sunny garden and watch the birds. Hike slowly through the woods and listen for their calls. Pull up the new, free Merlin app to find out which bird sings that song. Gradually, you will learn intimate details about the lives of these “winged dinosaurs that have given up stored fat, hollowed their bones,” to fly.
One of the ironies of Afrofuturism is that it is less concerned with the future than it is the mythological reconstruction of a past that would enable Blacks to see themselves differently in the present. Whether the idealizations of Wakanda are ultimately debilitating or liberating for the Black mind and its struggles with persistent racial persecution and the enfeebling belief in Black inferiority is open to debate.
The idea of CPAC made me sore afraid, so of course I wanted to go. I felt like the boy in the daguerreotype who has climbed a tree in order to better view the state funeral cortege.
Watts’s lucid history of Rome’s “dangerous idea” makes clear that the problem is not so much that we do not remember the past, but that we remember the wrong things.
Dying is something we all do. Saints, film stars, Olympic athletes, con artists. I feel calmer every time another cool friend pulls it off; if all these smart, funny people have managed to die, could it be so awful to share their fate? Yet much of what we call culture is created to deny death, or at least distract us from it.