Art and Fellowship

Every work of art is one half of a secret handshake, a challenge that seeks the password, a heliograph flashed from a tower window, an act of hopeless optimism in the service of bottomless longing. Every great record or novel or comic book convenes the first meeting...

Short Saturday: Bram Stoker

About this time every year, articles about Bram Stoker appear, and I’d saved one just for curiosity’s sake (“Bram Stoker: 9 things you didn’t know about the ‘Dracula’ author” from the Christian Science Monitor): • Stoker was a sickly boy up to age seven. • He admired...

On Luck

Today I talked with an artist and a poet about luck. The artist (a man) is in his sixties; the poet (a man) is in his twenties. The artist is a cheerful curmudgeon, a man of years; the poet is sweetly irreverent, and still expecting, before he is too much older, his...

Yeats Comes Home

It was a fine celebration. He had told us that ‘dizzy dreams can spring from the dry bones of the dead,’ but we were not in the mood to speculate thus with him last Friday. There was too much going on; the day was crowded, and sometimes even clangorous with public and...