One Saturday in the winter of 1965 I talked my father into driving me to Toronto from our home in Oshawa, Ontario, to see a particular movie that I knew I would never see at the local cinema. I was 14 years old. My father did not come in with me; he went off to do some errands and we agreed on a time when he would pick me…
From the archives
Between Words
Anne Carson’s new book-without-a-spine, and the spiritual experience of centrelessness
Boredom as a Political Weapon
Saul Bellow fought banality—and taught us to look hard at the world