


From the Archive
Goodbye, Columbus
By Philip Roth
James Thomson (1700–1748) is my private property. I keep him in my pocket and take him out and look at him sometimes. He always looks good.
In our column Poetry Rx, readers write in with a specific emotion, and our resident poets take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match. This week, Kaveh Akbar is on the line.
The canon of war fiction written by women has only recently been adequately recognized.
Our monthly column Feminize Your Canon explores the lives of underrated and underread female authors.
This week, we’ve lowered the paywall on Toni Morrison’s Art of Fiction interview, a poem by Philip Levine, and a short story by Gisela Elsner.
Cooking up recipes drawn from the works of various writers.
I met Margouleff just after I got out of the hospital where J was seriously ill with hepatitis and told every day that I wasn’t going to make it, and was all prepared to die. I came out all traumatized. Very strange. Margouleff came along. I was so weak already from exhaustion I was ready to fall down in the street. I had lost my apartment and everything in it. He walked up to me and he said, “Hello, you big tomato.” I said, “Get the hell out of here. Leave me alone, you creep.” He could see t…
This movie deals with the epidemic of the way we live now. / What an inane card player. And the age may support it. / Each time the rumble of the age / Is an anthill in the distance.