In southern Sicily you often hear Maria in the background in shops, like an ongoing soap opera: the live Mass from Medjugorje, where there have been apparitions of the Madonna since 1981, or the replaying of news from Radio Vaticana.
We sought out the high point, and there it was: the panorama we’d been seeking.
The critics’ verdicts on Ian McEwan’s The Children Act, A N Wilson’s Victoria: A Life and Elena Ferrante’s Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay.
Nine blows to the head and then he was gone: modern forensic techniques applied to the newly-discovered skeleton of Richard III have been able to suggest how he died for the first time.
What happened to a defining world-view? David Marquand examines the religious roots of an ideology.
The latest novel by the author of Morvern Callar is set in a boozy, 1980s student London.
As a “grumbling and growling” columnist for the NS, J B Priestley inspired the formation of CND. Now, 30 years after his death, his only son tells Valerie Grove why his once neglected work is making a comeback.
Our generation is to blame – we’re the ones who took the avant-garde and turned it into a successful rearguard action by the flying columns of capitalism’s blitzkrieg.
The museum’s wet collection is the museum’s most memorable feature. It contains “around one million zoological objects in 276,000 vials, preserved in 81,880 litres of ethanol”.
An excerpt from Bare Reality, a project to further understanding of how women really feel about their breasts, and how they really look.
The death of an author doesn’t necessarily mean the death of their characters. Hercule Poirot is the latest sleuth to come back for an encore.
The film, adapted from Laura Wade’s Bullingdon Club-based play Posh, fails to address the fact that it isn’t just the restaurant-smashers who benefit from Oxbridge elitism.
We don’t know what to expect: whether they want us to be garrulous or mysterious; live up to our image or confound it; be starry or down to earth.
Reading Roxane Gay comes as a relief – as being involved in feminism can sometimes feel more like voluntarily climbing into the stocks than participating in a social movement.