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From the archives

Between Words

Anne Carson’s new book-without-a-spine, and the spiritual experience of centrelessness

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

A postmodern elegy from our most original writer

Boredom as a Political Weapon

Saul Bellow fought banality—and taught us to look hard at the world

Cobbled Together

Me and the shoemaker

Michael Humeniuk

One aimless afternoon, shortly after graduating from university, I came across an old magazine article about Daniel Day-Lewis and the ten months the famed actor spent in Florence apprenticing as a shoemaker. The pages included enchanting pictures of leather, cork, and flame-melted wax, accompanied by handsome men using antique tools to turn suede and cordovan into masterpiece footwear for the likes of Robert DeNiro, Sylvester Stallone, Richard Gere — even Madonna. The more I read about the shoemaker to the stars, the more my imagination filled with sepia-coloured daydreams: labouring in a warmly lit bottega, richly perfumed from the turpentine of polish, to the symphony of scissors cutting hide and hammers thudding heels.

It all happened very fast: I put the article away and compiled a list of twenty Italian ateliers. On my first call, to Mannina Firenze, I reached a young...

Michael Humeniuk daydreams in Toronto.

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