skopia
Robert Moses was never elected to anything and remade New York for forty years, throwing up bridges and expressways and flattening the neighborhoods in their way. Caro shows exactly how it was done.
Seventeen days on a motorcycle carry a father and son from Minnesota to California while he works out what Quality means and recovers the man he was before electroshock erased him.
Pulled out of retirement, George Smiley hunts a Soviet mole at the top of British intelligence, working from old files and older grudges. Le Carré makes treason a matter of friendship and marriage.
Woodward and Bernstein worked doorsteps, phone books, and a source who met Woodward in a parking garage, tracing campaign money into the White House. Journalism has measured itself against this reporting ever since.
Terkel put a tape recorder before a gravedigger, a receptionist, a steelworker, and asked what the day costs them. Work is violence to the spirit as well as the body, he writes.
The tabloid Bild-Zeitung had branded Böll a terrorist sympathizer, so he answered with this: a quiet housekeeper spends one night with a wanted man and the papers take her honor apart.
Vietnam comes home in a suitcase. A correspondent buys heroin in Saigon and ships it to his wife in California, where the deal collapses into a chase through a country the war broke.
Life on the plantation seen from the slave quarters outward: Genovese shows how the enslaved turned the master's claim of paternal care into leverage and made Christianity mean what the master never intended.
Individuals have rights, Nozick begins, so a just state shrinks to police, courts, and defense. A million fans paying a basketball star a quarter gave libertarianism its sharpest weapon against redistribution.
For a year Dillard watches a creek in Virginia's mountains, where a giant water bug drains a frog to an empty skin. She wants to know what kind of God made this world.
Three days at Gettysburg from inside the men commanding it: Shaara has Longstreet pleading with Lee not to send infantry across open ground, and Chamberlain, out of ammunition, ordering a bayonet charge downhill.
The garbage of Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout piles past the ceiling. Silverstein drew as well as he rhymed, and American children have been raised on his nonsense and sudden tenderness since 1974.