Noah Berlatsky

The history of pop music, and of black pop music in particular, has always been gay history.

Some love stories don't end happily. So why do so many romance novels insist they do?

With the prospect of another Bush/Clinton presidential contest looming as ominously as Donald Trump's hairpiece, the word "dynasty" seems to be frothing off of many a pundit's keyboard. "Clinton, Bush struggle to shed dynasty labels," a Washington Post headline declared.

To understand this debate, it's important to consider historical context.

Critics say call-out culture is mean-spirited and bullying. Not so fast.

While Atwood's feminist dystopia remains our favorite nightmarish future, Marge Piercy's Woman On The Edge Of Time is far superior.

Action movies don't usually bother much with romance. The trailer for The Transporter: Refueled certainly doesn't. The hero is cool — sexy women, plural, throw themselves at him, or at least stand near him and things blow up; there are fights and revenge and high production values. Romance is, at best, a secondary concern.

In the U.S., anti-Semitism is universally condemned. This means that, effectively, anti-Semitism doesn't exist.

Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Edith Piaf: they're all still practically household names.

As a parent, you tend to assume that you have some say in forming your child's mental landscape. Then Santa comes along.