Being Jewish goes beyond the synagogue.
A little-known O’Connor story explores the human cost of self-deception.
Old handwritten recipes conjure up all kinds of memories.
How to capture the urgency of Confessions? New translations by Sarah Ruden and Peter Constantine offer very different approaches.
The National Memorial for Peace and Justice represents a watershed moment in the idea and practice of what a public memorial can be.
In occupied Paris, Yo-Yo Ma's father memorized Bach violin sonatas by day so he could play them during the blackout each night.
After many years looking at life in all its idiosyncrasies, Lea offers his 12th collection. It's intimate and authentic.
As a mother and a woman of color, I read Camille Dungy's book as a personal roadmap.
Westworld’s claim is that memory leads to consciousness, which leads to violence.
We thought her only stern and rigorous and dry—until one afternoon in October.
In the midst of a procession of well-known stories is an image marking what's been forgotten. That's most of history, isn't it?
Honestly facing the conflict of self with self—and choosing words that reveal its particular manifestations in one life—is hard, hard work.
Critics view genealogy as a kind of ersatz historiography, an individualistic reconstruction of the past. But there is more to family tree building.
A memoir becomes explicitly Christian when it derives its literary power from the power of the gospel. It doesn't preach, it shows.
As I watched Inside Out, I found myself thinking about Augustine's assertion that we are what we love and what we hate.