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She looks as though she has brought the sunshine in with her. She is wearing a bright yellow shirtdress that by no means hides her generous breasts. Her feet are in green, strappy heels that make up for what she lacks in height, and she is holding a white clutch, big enough to house a nine-inch weapon. She smiles at me, and saunters in my direction
... See moreOyinkan Braithwaite • My Sister, the Serial Killer: The Sunday Times Bestseller
Ambitious in the mildest version of the word.
Emma Cline • The Guest: ‘The tension never wavers’ (GUARDIAN)
Sarah McNally considers herself a humble bookseller while also being the founder and owner of an ever-expanding empire, McNally Jackson, now likely the third-largest buyer of books in the city, after only Barnes & Noble and the Strand. She is a thumb on the scale of cultural life in the city. She hosts several book groups at the stores and privately runs several more. Hang around literary circles long enough and word will reach you that she is reading "Middlemarch" with Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy and has read Clarice Lispector with David Byrne and Esther Perel. Her New York is a place where we are all only one read away from our best selves, lacking only the space to dig in. She is there to provide. “I want people to know that they can trust us with their reading life, that this is not a sloppy nor commercial project,” she said with characteristic fervor. "I am working at the limits of my ability and doing so for what I believe is a good cause: the life of the mind in New York City." Link in bio. Photo: @jeremy_liebman
instagram.comSam had come to think of this as a mark of the true Parisian girl: a brisk strut, head held high, bag slung from one shoulder, and—the crucial touch—arms folded in such a way that the bosom was not merely supported but emphasized, a kind of soutien-gorge vivant, or living bra.
Peter Mayle • The Vintage Caper (Sam Levitt Capers Book 1)
Hannah Marcus • Competitive Wellness
The essay ends in a kind of dream—with the image of a plush red curtain clasped and crushed in grief. And we’re happy to follow Woolf there, in part, because of that dash in her opening sentence, which denotes a passage from the dream-fugue of sickness, depression, and undirected reading into the dirigible madness of writing.
Literary Hub • On a Wonderful, Beautiful, Almost Failed Sentence By Virginia Woolf
surrealist Italian Elsa Schiaparelli
Clare Press • Wardrobe Crisis: How We Went From Sunday Best to Fast Fashion
