Whether for alliance or exclusion, secrets seem best when shared. An accomplished gossip marvels at the pleasures and perils of one of our favorite pastimes.
A slight gasp escaped him upon beholding what could only be called architectural splendor. No photograph could convey its somber excessive majesty.
The fiction of Joy Williams has earned her praise and acclaim, but not necessarily fame. Brad Watson reintroduces an early gem and asks why. Williams has been likened to Flannery O’Connor, an apt comparison as far as it goes. But Williams is that rare spiritual writer who offers neither salvation nor redemption.
A father copes with divorce by restoring his new home, a Civil War-era log cabin. While cleaning out the attic, he unearths evidence of an antebellum romance amid the debris.
Snow was filling up the space around the house until they were the only people left on earth, three of them crowded together, the fourth still to come.
