David Bowman was born in Racine, Wisconsin on December 8, 1957. His interest in writing first emerged while studying music at the Interlochen Arts Academy High School in Interlochen, Michigan. He briefly attended Putney College in Vermont, before moving to New York to write while working as a bartender and as a clerk at a bookstore. His works include Let the Dog Drive, Bunny Modern, and This Must Be the Place. He died from a cerebral hemorrhage on February 27, 2012 at the age of 54.
Jonathan Lethem was born in Brooklyn, New York on February 19, 1964. His first novel, Gun, with Occasional Music was published in 1994. His other works include As She Climbed across the Table (1997), Amnesia Moon (1995), The Fortress of Solitude (2003), You Don't Love Me Yet (2007), Chronic City (2009), and Dissident Gardens (2013). He won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Motherless Brooklyn (1999). He also writes short stories, comics and essays. His work has appeared in The New Yorker, Harper's, Rolling Stone, Esquire, The New York Times, The Paris Review, McSweeney's and other periodicals and anthologies.
A rollicking, outrageous, and altogether brilliant perversion of known facts, Banana Republican sends the sexist, racist, elitist Buchanan careening through America's brilliantly mismanaged intervention in Nicaragua in the early twentieth century. Eric Rauchway bends history to Buchanan's memoir as Tom blunders, shoots, and screws his way through the historical record and makes the case that greed and amorality have always been at the heart of the American dream.
Princeton, New Jersey, at the turn of the twentieth century: a tranquil place to raise a family, a genteel town for genteel souls. But something dark and dangerous lurks at the edges of the town, corrupting and infecting its residents. Vampires and ghosts haunt the dreams of the innocent. A powerful curse besets the elite families of Princeton; their daughters begin disappearing. A young bride on the verge of the altar is seduced and abducted by a dangerously compelling man–a shape-shifting, vaguely European prince who might just be the devil, and who spreads his curse upon a richly deserving community of white Anglo-Saxon privilege. And in the Pine Barrens that border the town, a lush and terrifying underworld opens up.
When the bride's brother sets out against all odds to find her, his path will cross those of Princeton's most formidable people, from Grover Cleveland, fresh out of his second term in the White House and retired to town for a quieter life, to soon-to-be commander in chief Woodrow Wilson, president of the university and a complex individual obsessed to the point of madness with his need to retain power; from the young Socialist idealist Upton Sinclair to his charismatic comrade Jack London, and the most famous writer of the era, Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain–all plagued by "accursed" visions.
An utterly fresh work from Oates, The Accursed marks new territory for the masterful writer. Narrated with her unmistakable psychological insight, it combines beautifully transporting historical detail with chilling supernatural elements to stunning effect.
This view is inevitable when people simply treat the South as an aberration of mainstream America, or a remnant of some past culture. We at Southern Exposure look at the South from another perspective. This is our home, we are of it and examine it that we may know more of ourselves and our neighbors. These are the politics and culture that surround us and affect us daily, that we must analyze, praise and attack so our lives can grow and prosper. And this is the ground from which we must view the larger world. By listening to local tobacco farmers discuss the pressures on them to expand or die, we can better understand Earl Butz's plan for US agribusiness. By hearing a bluesman's story, we come to appreciate how a particular culture evolves from material hardship and inspires immense creativity.
Early observers thought we'd never make it this far with a regional journal so critical of the powers that be and so preoccupied with the lesser known people, with the struggles and heritage of a culture considered bankrupt by sophisticated America. But, like the South, we have attained a new stability, partly from the spin-off of the media search for Jimmy Carter's South (they have yet to find it) and partly from our appeal to the same hunger for connections to a past, a place, a people, that made Roots a meaningful event for so many.