David Sedaris' stories have appeared on <a href="http://www.thisamericanlife.org/search?keys=david%20sedaris">This American Life</a> and in <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/search?qt=dismax&sort=score+desc&query=david+sedaris&submit=">The New Yorker</a>, and have now filled seven essay collections<em> --</em> most recently, <em>Let's Explore Diabetes With Owls</em>.
Credit Hugh Hamrick / Little, Brown and Co.
David Sedaris's new book <em></em>is called <em>Let's Explore Diabetes With Owls.</em>
David Sedaris writes personal stories, funny tales about his life growing up in a Greek family outside of Raleigh, N.C., about working as an elf in Santa's workshop at Christmastime, and about living abroad with his longtime partner, Hugh.
Equilateral is a weird little novel, but any reader familiar with Ken Kalfus expects his writing to go off-road. Kalfus wrote one of the best and certainly the least sentimental novels about New York City post-9/11. I loved A Disorder Peculiar to the Country, but I stopped assigning it to students in my New York lit class because they were usually turned off by its black humor and lack of uplift. Equilateral doesn't run that same risk of being in bad taste as social commentary because, at first, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with current events.
U.S. Army Spc. Adam Winfield is the subject of the documentary <em>The Kill Team</em>, which focuses on his ongoing legal struggles after being accused of the premeditated murder of an unarmed Afghan in 2010.
Writer Joel Arnold is surveying the scene at the Tribeca Film Festival, which runs in New York City through April 28. He'll be filing occasional dispatches for Monkey See.
At Tribeca over the weekend, I was initially reluctant to seek out The Kill Team, a documentary focused on American soldiers charged in the 2010 murders of three Afghan civilians — this, after a week when senseless violence felt especially close to home.
Tell Me More celebrates National Poetry Month by hearing poetic tweets from listeners for the 'Muses and Metaphor' series. Today's poem comes from Roberta Beary. She tweets about her mother's loving gestures toward her father — even after his death.
At 19, Maya Vidal, the California-born heroine of Isabel Allende's florid, frenzied and intermittently entertaining novel Maya's Notebook, has already busted out of a wilderness academy for troubled teens in Oregon, been raped and beaten by a trucker, worked as a girl Friday for a drug dealer/counterfeiter and done some $10 hooking in Las Vegas.
Spring's little green garden peas were nearly done in by the tin can. Their unfortunate incarceration rendered them drab, mush and bleak. They tasted of the tinny can, if anything at all. Brilliant, beautiful, garden peas deserve better.