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As anyone who has visited Chechnya will tell you, it is not an easy place to forget. On the other hand, it is also one that seems intent on forgetting. Not for Grozny the memorials of cities such as Volgograd,
On September 6, 1951, William S. Burroughs was walking down a Mexico City street when he realised he was crying. “What in hell is wrong with you?” he thought to himself. He joined his common-law wife, Joan Vollmer, and they
We remember plays for all the wrong reasons. Maybe not as critics—as critics, we are paid to focus on the right reasons, and in any case don’t usually have the column inches to focus on the wrong ones—but certainly as
Sports television is rarely commented upon in terms of its aesthetic qualities. Like a lot of the non-fiction content that passes across our screens—with the possible exception of current affairs programs, whose characteristic tropes and tics have been roundly and
Matthew Thompson’s Running with the Blood God is a book about collective resistance that thinks it’s about maverick individualism. The former Fairfax reporter’s follow-up to My Colombian Death (2008), which detailed his decision to leave the newspaper game in search of
Toby Schmitz, in case you have been living under a rock (or, more likely, have simply stopped buying the newspapers), has spent the latter part of this year in the midst of what must have sometimes felt like a prolonged
During intermission at Waiting for Godot, the Sydney Theatre Company’s fantastic new production of Samuel Beckett’s most famous play, I overheard an amusing conversation. “What a cliff-hanger!” a young man remarked of the first act to a friend. “I wonder if
There are better places to see bullfights than Pamplona. In fact, during the city’s annual fiesta, Pamplona is one of the worst places in Spain to see corridas de toros: the crowds up here in the Basque country demand the