I have been told by ‘snobs’ that there are two kinds of Irish: the Lace Curtain Irish and the Shanty Irish. If indeed that is true, then McCourt has done the Shanty Irish a disservice, or a service, as the case may be.
Ochre and yellow, half shades of green between the sea and groves of olives, old, old tamarisks, and the rainbow flowers of quivering red tubes, Willa Cather conjures New Mexico as a dream that turns out to be true.
I am swamped with book review requests from authors, publishers and publicists. I know how hard it is for authors to get quality book reviews, and I also know that traditional book reviewers will not review anything other than the “big books.” I am happy to write a book review, but my time is important to me.
Edith Wharton's ghosts are borne of highbrow fear, a form of intellectual mania that is never truly terrifying but fodder to ponder life’s greater truths.