Normally, kibbutz volunteers visit Israel and return home. Pam Mandel went on to Egypt, and kept going . . .
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Posted inBooks, Essays & Criticism, Story
The Horse Was a Lie (The Horse Is Here With Us Now)
In Mario Chard’s “Land of Fire,” was it the truth or a lie that killed the migrants in the desert? And what if that’s the wrong question? What if we say it was a horse?
Posted inArts & Culture, Books, Nonfiction, Story
Los Angeles Plays Itself
In this land of constant reinvention, a longtime resident walks the streets to understand what the city was and what it’s becoming.
Posted inBooks, Current Events, Nonfiction, Profiles & Interviews, Story, Unapologetic Women
Preparing for a Post-Roe America
Activist and author Robin Marty says the biggest threat facing women in a post-Roe America would be arrest, not death.
Posted inArts & Culture, Feature, Nonfiction, Story
Shelved: Fiona Apple’s Extraordinary Machine
How the songwriter’s abandoned third album became two albums.
Posted inCommentary, Current Events, Essays & Criticism, Story
The Classroom Origins of Toxic Masculinity
It’s a relatively new term for a concept as old as time.
Posted inBooks, History, Nonfiction, Story
How Diderot’s Encyclopedia Challenged the King
The encyclopedists’ plan to catalog knowledge seemed harmless enough. But what they intended was far more subversive: to restructure knowledge itself.
Posted inEditor's Pick, Essays & Criticism, Nonfiction
At Risk, at Home and Abroad
As Joy Notoma grapples with uterine fibroids, harmful biases in the medical establishment, and a move from Brooklyn to West Africa she wonders where, as a black woman, she can find safety.
Posted inEssays & Criticism, Feature, Nonfiction, Story
At Risk, at Home and Abroad
As Joy Notoma grapples with uterine fibroids, harmful biases in the medical establishment, and a move from Brooklyn to West Africa she wonders where, as a black woman, she can find safety.
Posted inArts & Culture, Essays & Criticism, Nonfiction, Story
And They Do Not Stop Until Dusk
I’ve never known what it means to feel Jewish, but I still have a past — I have György Román, who painted dreams and saw nightmares.
