Hunger takes many forms. While Viola becomes fascinated with London's suffragette hunger strikers, her husband, Edward, and her lover, James, come closer to starvation with each mile in their journey to the South Pole.
Flipping between a harrowing polar exploration and a woman's struggles for independence in 1910, “Terra Nova” hinges on the motifs that connect the two storylines: art, hunger and guilt.
Look, now: Buried amid this summer's beach reads, your Grishams and Hilderbrands, is a literary treasure. Alec Wilkinson's keen-eyed, beguiling new memoir, "A Divine Language," recounts how, in his 60s, he confronted the ogres of his adolescence: algebra, geometry, calculus. A longtime contributor to the New Yorker, Wilkinson had been, like many of us, a mathphobe: quadratic formulas and differential calculus were all Greek to him. But he saw the numbers (and letters) on the wall and wanted to know what they meant.
This book should be “read” twice. First, just look at the nearly 250 images, each one on a separate page, bordered in black. The only notation on the page is the location and the date. This encourages you to study each photo intently. When done, read the explanations for each photo in back to gain insight into what you have seen.
Whatever moral or economic or land-use injury the enclosed shopping center inflicted in the past, the buildings are here now, and Gruen’s hope that they would become exemplars of high-minded urban planning—which has remained dashed ever since the permits for Northland’s airport-like loop for buses and taxis got lost in the mail—could still be fulfilled. As Lange observes, “Any travelers in the world of dead malls must ask themselves whether they are prepared to fight to put people back into the gutted buildings, or if they merely intend to pick over the aesthetic bones.”
I try to live my life,
drink my coffee slowly,
do what дедушка says: