Liars and Saints

 The greatest musical is "Gypsy"; this has entered "beyond debate" territory.  If you look at Broadway's musical offerings right now, they are generally bad. It's hard to find a musical with a smart book, high stakes, an original story,  and  a soaring, intelligent score. "And Juliet" can't give you all of that. "The Lost Boys" can't give you all of that. It's not clear to me that "Schmigadoon" has high stakes. And, though "Two Strangers" makes more of an effort than almost any other show currently on Broadway, the score and the book leave something to be desired. Among other things, "Gypsy" touches on the destruction of a family, the debasement of women in America, the idea of emotional abuse, and the gap between truth and perception. And it's a musical! "Gypsy" does almost everything extraordinarily well, but its really sublime moment is (at least for me) the end of Act One. This i...

 The Mysterious Bookshop is among the greatest spots in Manhattan; it's around the corner from a cousin of mine. I don't really understand the geography of Tribeca, but if you see the strange "Oculus" station, then you know you are near the Mysterious Bookshop. One of a few admirable missions at the Bookshop: to travel all over the United States and document our country's most bizarre crimes. The books are written in France; the French perspective is supposed to add something new. I haven't actually identified the "special sauce" within the French journalism, but I have read most of the books to date. Books on Chandra Levy (DC), the Murdaugh family (South Carolina), the missing Blackfeet women (Montana). I just devoured the story of Alice Crimmins (New York)--and now I feel that Crimmins is possibly not guilty of "her crime." (Also, how strange to note that she is still alive!) Another fine effort of this bookshop...The owner, Otto Penzler,...

 There is a terrific example of an "I Am" song in "Two Strangers Carry a Cake Across New York." Dougal is planning to enter a church where his negligent father will get married. Dougal is ambivalent. He calls his mother--a person who was once abandoned mid-pregnancy--and leaves a voice message. He describes the scene: I'm wearing my suit with the scuffs in the knees-- The one that we got for my GCSEs. If I stand in the street any longer, I'll freeze. If I put my eye to the door, I can just about see-- There are hundreds of people and stars on the tree. I'd better go in and say, Hi, Dad, it's me.... As he makes observations, Dougal is thinking. He is crossing a bridge from childhood to adulthood--he is recognizing (at a cost) that someone who remains silent for twenty-five years is likely someone who does not care about you. The good news is that Dougal does not need his father; Dougal already has what he needs. The last time I wore this, I looked lik...

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2026/books/best-thriller-books-21st-century.html It's standard practice to complain when a newspaper publishes a "Year's Best" list. Best movies. Best fashion statements. Best actors. A complaint then triggers a counter-complaint: "If you wanted to include THAT addition, which name would you REMOVE from the current list?" I'm not writing in a serious spirit. I'm not going to argue for *subtractions* from the NYT thriller list. I'm just going to say that certain omissions surprised me. First, Anthony Horowitz is among the most important popular writers in England right now. He has created a series for Lesley Manville, updated the James Bond series in plausible ways, insightfully championed the works of other writers (Ira Levin, Sarah Waters). Horowitz is on the current list for "Magpie Murders," a great novel. But his career-defining series--Horowitz and Hawthorne--is off the list. At least one of the...

 "I Won't Mind" is a well-liked cabaret song from an unfinished musical. It's like a faux-Sondheim song. It's someone lying to herself--and that's a topic Sondheim handled well. But Sondheim didn't write this. The song plays with two meanings of the expression  I won't mind.  The first is this: "I won't protest." I won't complain if you spill porridge on me. The second is this:  I won't be mindful . I won't be the adult. If there is a dangerous blurring of boundaries, I will neglect my responsibility; I will look the other way. The fun of the song is seeing the slow change from meaning one to meaning two. What starts as something sweet gradually becomes something mildly sinister. Real pain is legible in an actor's eyes. It's not about "indicating": wringing one's hands, or shouting, or kneading the hem of one's skirt. It's the eyes. The actor has to decide (1) to "access" that pain and (...

 We went to a cat cafe and ordered from a "KitTea List." The shop was named--unfortunately--the "Alley Cat Cat Cafe." It doesn't trip off the tongue. It's like the record store that called itself "The Vinyl Solution." Giacometti once made a wonderful cat. It was on display--for a long while--next to the Temple of Dendur. It seemed to accompany a resting "Sphinx of Hatshepsut." And my family likes the cats at the zoo. Recently, the lions have hogged the spotlight; the lioness gave birth. But I'm equally fond of the cheetah and of the snow leopard, now starring in its own non-fiction book, "The Ghost of the Mountains." At the cat cafe, my husband played with a small stuffed kitty, which he then chose to buy "for our daughter." I studied the scene. You can't bring your purchase to the "cat area." A thick glass window-wall separates the cat-guests from the coffee-drinking guests. To fraternize with the ca...