We need community to live. But what does it look like? Why does it often feel like it’s slipping away?
In this very long essay (or very short nonfiction book, depending on what framing you prefer), Casey Plett says she’s going to try to define community, then immediately makes it clear that it can’t be defined. Take the phrase “the [X] community.” When I read that phrase, I think: How does this person know this…
When Nar’s non-Armenian boyfriend gets down on one knee and proposes to her in front of a room full of drunk San Francisco tech boys, she realizes it’s time to find someone who shares her idea of romance.
Enter her mother: armed with plenty of mom-guilt and a spreadsheet of Facebook-stalked Armenian men, she convinces Nar to attend Explore Armenia, a month-long series of events in the city. But it’s not the mom-approved playboy doctor or wealthy engineer who catches her eye—it’s Erebuni, a woman as equally immersed in the witchy arts as she is in preserving Armenian identity. Suddenly, with Erebuni as her wingwoman, the events feel like far less of a chore, and much more of an adventure. Who knew cooking up kuftes together could be so . . . sexy?
Erebuni helps Nar see the beauty of their shared culture and makes her feel understood in a way she never has before. But there’s one teeny problem: Nar’s not exactly out as bisexual. The clock is ticking on Nar’s double life—the closing event banquet is coming up, and her entire extended family will be there, along with Erebuni. Her worlds will inevitably collide, but Nar is determined to be brave, determined to claim her happiness: proudly Armenian, proudly bisexual, and proudly herself for the first time in her life.
Bisexual romance!! Bisexual romance is special. There’s your good old straight romance, also known as romance with no adjective in front of it. There’s your gay and lesbian romance, sometimes including a painful coming out, with recent examples including Rana Joon and the One and Only Now and The lesbiana’s guide to Catholic school. But…
La gratuité est devenue l’un des sujets majeurs des débats portant sur les politiques publiques de mobilité à l’échelle locale. Elle se trouve aujourd’hui au cœur de controverses très vives.
Mes notes de lecture sur cet article de blog. Depuis le milieu des années 2010, on parle beaucoup de la gratuité des transports dans les politiques publiques à l’échelle locale. Mais la gratuité est au cœur de grosses controverses, comme le tramway l’était dans les années 1990. La gratuité peut avoir différents buts : mixité…
Rachid Laïreche a été chargé pendant huit ans de suivre les partis de gauche pour Libération. Il raconte comment il a été happé dans la bulle jusqu’à s’y perdre. Au fil des pages, il nous entraîne dans les coulisses de ses rencontres avec Hollande, Mélenchon, Duflot, Dray, Taubira, Rousseau ou Jadot. Il décrypte les rites de la meute des journalistes politiques, les codes de l’entre-soi, la déréalisation collective de la bulle.
Dans Il n’y a que moi que ça choque ?, Rachid Laïreche nous raconte ses huit années de journaliste politique chez Libération. L’envoi à sa première conférence de presse un peu à l’arrache, parce qu’on n’a qu’un seul Arabe et qu’on ne va quand même pas le garder au service des sports comme un cliché.…
Dans un monde où la civilisation s’est effondrée suite à une pandémie foudroyante, une troupe d’acteurs et de musiciens nomadise entre de petites communautés de survivants pour leur jouer du Shakespeare. Un répertoire qui en est venu à représenter l’espoir et l’humanité au milieu de la désolation.
Une pandémie (non, pas celle-là) détruit presque l’humanité. Un homme meurt sur scène. Le reste du monde meurt deux semaines plus tard. Des petits groupes de survivants tiennent bon, du mieux possible. Cet homme qui est mort un soir lors d’une représentation de Shakespeare a laissé d’autres personnes dans son sillage. Des ex-femmes, un enfant,…
Franzi, 7 ans, est séparé de ses parents et devient réfugié dans la France occupée de 1940. Son père, autrichien menacé par le nazisme, a vécu la Première Guerre, connu le Front russe et doit fuir son pays pour l’Amérique. 80 ans plus tard, le fils de Franzi, Jordan Mechner, raconte leurs histoires grâce aux carnets tenus par chacun d’entre eux et y mêle son expatriation professionnelle des États-Unis en France.
Dans Replay : Mémoire d’une famille, Jordan Melchner, le mec qui a fait Prince of Persia, un jeu auquel je n’ai jamais joué, raconte un mélange d’histoires : La vie de son grand-père autrichien et de sa famille, parvenue à fuir la seconde guerre mondiale, qu’il reconstruit à partir des journaux de son aîné Son…
Our narrator is the youngest student at the Conservatory. She produces a sound from the piano no one else does, employing a special technique she learned from her parents-also stunningly talented musicians-who fled China in the wake of the Cultural Revolution. But when an accident leaves her parents debilitated, she abandons her future as a pianist and accepts a job at a high-end beauty and wellness store in New York City. Holistik is known for its remarkable products and outrageous procedures: remoras that suck cheap Botox from the body, eyelash extensions made of spider silk, emotional support ducklings bred to imprint on their owners. Every product is ethically sourced and made with nothing but the highest quality ingredients. Our narrator’s new job is a coveted one among New York’s beauty-obsessed, and it affords her entry into a new world of privilege. She becomes transfixed by Helen-a model, and the niece of Holistik’s charismatic owner-and the two strike up a close friendship that hazily veers into more. All the while, Holistik plies our narrator with products that slim her thighs, smooth her skin, lighten her hair, and change her eye color. But beneath these fancy creams and tinctures lies a terrible truth that threatens to consume her. After all, beauty is nothing without ugliness.
Natural Beauty has stayed with me for a few weeks. I wasn’t going to write about it here, because I didn’t find it significant or likeable enough. And here I am a month later, still browsing through the list and feeling… something, when I scroll past the name of this book. I say « something…
Perfect Iranian girls are straight A students, always polite, and grow up to marry respectable Iranian boys. But it’s the San Fernando Valley in 1996, and Rana Joon is far from perfect—she smokes weed and loves Tupac, and she has a secret: she likes girls.
As if that weren’t enough, her best friend, Louie—the one who knew her secret and encouraged her to live in the moment—died almost a year ago, and she’s still having trouble processing her grief. To honor him, Rana enters the rap battle he dreamed of competing in, even though she’s terrified of public speaking.
Rana Joon and the One and Only Now is a novel about grief. As many novels about grief are, it is also about hope. Rana needs to build a place for herself, and since the death of her best friend Louie a year ago − a death that she does not believe was an accident,…
Sarah’s story begins as she’s researching what she believes will be a book about her high school philosophy teacher, a charismatic instructor who taught her and her classmates to question everything—in the end, even the reality of historical atrocities. As she digs into the effects of his teachings, her life takes a turn into the fantastical when her wife, Marta, is notified that she’s been investigated for sexual misconduct at the university where they both teach.
Sarah Viren examines the nature of lies and conspiracies and how we build our Truth. When the author started writing this memoir, it was about her high school philosophy teacher in an European-inspired magnet programme where philosophy exists (i love this). In freshman year, it was an amazing class where the teacher encouraged everyone to…
New Year’s Eve, 1999.
Seven women are gathered in a hotel room at midnight; a man’s head sits in the center of the floor. They all had a motive to kill Jamie Spellman. They all swear they didn’t. But in order to protect each other, they have to find out who did.
Time to go back to good old crime novels, including a twist (lesbians. the twist is lesbians.). I’ve already talked about how funnily enough, I consider most crime novels uplifting, as long as the grueling horrors aren’t too detailed. Their structure is very clear-cut and they’re not taking any risks, usually, following a very neat…
