Prepare to be depressed. We are living through the “end of equality”, the once-celebrated advances of feminism going into dangerous reverse.
The rise of Nazism ended Stefan Zweig’s career as a European writer and led him ultimately to take his own life. Now he is enjoying an unexpected revival.
What makes our species unique is that we know we are trapped in time, caught briefly between the prenatal darkness and the posthumous one.
An ambitious and extraordinary ninth novel that is haunted by “a familiar piece of music, the old-fashioned sound an orchestra might make for rich ladies and gentlemen to dance to, in the old-fashioned times”.
Marvel have announced that the new Thor will be a woman. Cue outraged cries of “PC gone mad” and “publicity stunt” from a particularly vocal segment of the fandom.
The authors of IPPR’s The Condition of Britain offer a coherent plan and one that will be influential if the Labour Party triumphs in May.
Matthew Sperling looks at new poetry collections by Paul Batchelor, Oli Hazzard, and Toby Martinez de las Rivas.
Jonathan Bate traces the Bard’s debt to the French essayist Michel de Montaigne.
All ten cities share a self-confident belief: that it is quite unthinkable any of their number might ever dim or wither, no matter the tides of human history that sweep around them.
The shift towards English identity is a long-term phenomenon that is probably irreversible.
I had gone to Dublin with the express intention of understanding a city that to me has always seemed incoherent – and even a little minatory.
What should you pack for the summer holiday?
This is a book is stuffed with such wonderful stories, recounted by the people who were there at every level of music-making: players, producers, writers, comedians, friends and fans.
The critics’ verdicts on Linda Grant, Will Hodgkinson and Helen McCarthy.
Jonathan Holloway’s adaptation rightly cherished many things that the film ultimately minimised, in particular the novel’s mourning of the extinction of various animal species.
One has the impression that the war was a prolonged drama for which she was a critic sitting in the audience. She certainly doesn’t seem to understand what part she was expected to play in it.
Storm, despite being a spy at the forefront of western intelligence efforts, was primarily driven by a desperate need to belong.
Three critics attempt to make make sense of the slippery lifespan of the realist novel, with occasionally illuminating and often chaotic results.
From almost the opening shot, the Great War has been fought over by historians wishing to interpret and understand what happened and why. Their conflict is not over yet.
Despite the “cosmopolitan sympathies” of the poets, memorial events in the UK today are dominated by British writers. But there are many other literary voices from the battle for the trenches.
Two poems by the First World War poets both appeared in the pages of the New Statesman – the first in June 1918, the second March 1919.
The centenary of the outbreak of hostilities has mobilised both historians and publishers.
Sassoon (or “Sashûn”, as he signed himself here) was one of only a handful of Great War poets who survived the fighting. This poem was first published in the New Statesman of 22 May 1926.
The critics’ verdicts on Tristram Hunt, Gruff Rhys and Leslie Jamison.
The scene is set in 1984 but it could be any time between 1934 and 2014 in this backwater of the East Sussex coastline far from Thatcher’s Britain.
With their backcombed hair, dreads, tutus, ripped tights and Doc Martens, the Slits were the most anarchic and badly behaved band on the “White Riot” tour.
The star of Nighty Night, The Thick of It and Lewis on literary competitiveness, the cameraderie of the make-up truck and learning to cope with lifts.
“I realised: as well as my wallet and keys and hundreds of dollars, as well as my bank details and personal photographs – he had my book. My second, cherished, unborn novel – lovely plotted and crafted, and for some mad, forgotten reason not backed up.”
San Paolo, published posthumously in 1977 and presented here for the first time in English as St Paul, is Pasolini’s screenplay for the life of the apostle.