Christopher S. Wood’s A History of Art History will be eye-opening for anyone who cares about art.
For Matisse, decoration was never a secondary matter.
For half a century, Keith and Rosmarie Waldrop have been (despite some serious competition) the most reliable conduit for poetry traveling from French and German into English.
Ursula Andkjær Olsen’s Third-Millennium Heart is a beautiful monster of a book coming at you straight, with no padding of preface or foreword to warn you what you might be in for.
Young is one of those poets, it seems, who prefers to do it all himself, how and when he feels like it.
Almost every line in Chelsey Minnis’s Baby, I Don’t Care could have been lifted from a hard-boiled detective flick or a tough-talking screwball comedy.
Navid Kermani puts his finger on what’s divisive in poetry and culture.
Maier didn’t want people to know where she lived, and often lied about her personal history.
The Astropastorals, a new collection of poetry by Douglas Crase, brings together two decades of material in 18 pages.
Robert Walser was likely to find in images a reason to look into his own fervent imagination.
David Carrier’s The Contemporary Art Gallery is a small but well-stocked treasury of first-hand observations by someone who’s spent a lot of time in art galleries, but who has retained enough critical distance to see them with a certain objectivity.
When René Magritte wrote “This is not a pipe,” he wasn’t negating the pipe so much as he was negating the language with which we attempt to grasp it.