Albert Camus would have celebrated his 100th birthday this week. Judging from how he documented his birthdays, it probably would not have been a particularly happy affair: his journals reveal an author ill at ease with a world that, for him, signified nothing. On his birthdays, Camus's thoughts often turned to death and, perhaps appropriately, to the works he had yet to write:November 7. [1938 - 25 years old] Character. A.M. — an invalid —both legs amputated — paralyzed all down one side.
This is the 50th anniversary of John F.
New works alter his image as a disinterested aesthete
A newly translated play and a new biography alter his image as a disinterested aesthete.
How Margaret Fuller Changed American Feminism
Margaret Fuller’s early death meant she never got to see the promised land.
Isherwood's overflowing diaries are in need of a thorough edit.
IN 1962, ALMOST TWENTY years after the lyricist Lorenz Hart’s death, his melodist partner Richard Rodgers told Diahann Carroll that “you can’t imagine how wonderful it feels to have written this score and not have to search all over the globe for that little fag.” Ouch. And yet, as Gary Marmorstein’s thoroughgoing—if occasionally conjectural—biography makes clear, Hart seems to have thought even less of himself than Rodgers did.
DID YOU CATCH Mick Jagger on Saturday Night Live’s season finale last spring? It was a bravura performance. Among other roles, he played a sad sack insurance rep at a karaoke bar, a campy queen on a Hollywood quiz show, and a slick-talking J.P. Morgan executive. He was impishly charming in his opening monologue, and when he performed several Stones classics he was as sprightly as ever.