by Kimmo Rosenthal It is interesting that upon tracing the etymology of the word essay to its roots, we come across the Latin word exagium, which means a weighing. The idea of an essay as a weighing of sorts is not surprising. In her illuminating essay on the current proliferation of “personal” as opposed to
by Alan Swyer The best thing about being part of Ray Charles’ inner circle – other than spending time with the man justly called “The Genius” – was meeting so many people who were, or at one time or another had been, part of his world. Some, like Solomon Burke, Mable John, and Billy Osborne,
by Alice Lowe There was a stretch of time when I opened each week’s New Yorker magazine to the “Goings On About Town” pages to plan imaginary weekend getaways. I would choose a play, opera, or concert for each night of my stay. Mornings were earmarked for long walks around the city, followed by museum
by Michelle Cacho-Negrete We were Poland. We were Romania. We were Ukraine We were Hungary. We were Russia. We arrived in New York with ragged clothes, a swirl of languages, and our babushkas and yarmulkas and kasha and borsch and pierogi and cozonac and palinka and our dreams and nightmares, and later, tattoos on our
by Thaddeus Rutkowski The first sign was a brownish-gray blur shooting across our floor. It went so fast we couldn’t tell if it was a living thing or just a trick of the eye—a shadow made by the batting of an eyelid. Over the next few days, however, the blur slowed down, as if the
by Andrew Sarewitz New Year’s Eve, 2013. Early, around 9:30 p.m., I sauntered into the bar in Hell’s Kitchen as if I belonged there—which I suppose I felt I did. My brother-in-crime and owner of the bar, Sasha, hugged me hello. With the crowd being far from overflowing, he was concerned the lack of cash-carrying
by Judy Bolton-Fasman I read the obituaries of those who have died in the pandemic, and say many of their names softly before I recite the five paragraphs of the Kaddish—the Jewish prayer of mourning. A new day, a new set of names. I make my way through the prayer’s chewy Aramaic, memorializing the lives
by Karol Nielsen It was a modestly priced one-bedroom in a charming townhouse near the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I was deeply in love, even though I could see all of its flaws. The baseboards didn’t line up with the floor. The oak parquet had dry rotted and squeaked. The ceiling rippled like the
by Alan Swyer Some of our greatest music was created in strange ways. A Ray Charles classic came to life when the manager of a theater feared that the audience would tear out the seats if Ray, who’d run out of material, didn’t take the stage again. Instructing his band to follow his lead, Ray