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Notes on Incest and Mr. Darcy

Let’s talk about incest. I missed the V.C. Andrews train as a kid—I can picture the book nestled in with my vast collection of second-hand Harlequins, but for whatever reason I never picked it up. (As a teen, and even...

Feeling Queasy Over Keller

The National Book Critics Circle Award finalists have been announced! You can see the ...

Are You On Team Martha?

One of my favourite elements of the Slate Book Review is the author editor interview. (Having sat in both seats myself, I’m reminded of the comedian Fred Allen, who, when editors would put in their demands for changes, would blurt, “Where were...

Peter Kaplan as Writerly Svengali

Peter Kaplan, the steward of a generation of snappy upstart journalists, has...

Hold the Turkey, Pass the Stuffing

As the temperature dips, I find myself thinking mostly about bodies and heat. Something about snow makes me crave spice, and I’m not the only one, not by a long shot. Even here at Hazlitt there’s a renewed interest in getting under the covers—...

A Tale of Two Lolitas

Though I’ll never have the opportunity to feature Mordecai Richler in a Shelf Esteem column, this...

If We Forget About Rob Ford, Did He Ever Really Exist?

Perhaps I’m no better than Will Ferrell, because for the past few weeks it seems the first part of this column has been given...

How Narratives Can Help Us and Hurt Us

I can’t bring myself to type Rob Ford’s remarks from this morning, and unlike @HulkMayor, I am only now getting to the stage where I deal with...

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

After today, the flowers will be gone for another year. At 11 this morning, did you think about Vimy Ridge, or...

The Giller Winner and The Many Layers Of Rob Ford

Okay, so, the Mayor of Toronto. So many layers to this story. There’s Robyn Doolittle, author of the forthcoming...