I am never sure what it is exactly that makes Chekhov’s former Moscow apartment so entrancing. Maybe the answer is not in the aura, but in the stuff itself: the pens and blankets and desks and hardwood floors.
Where President Obama balances between will and inevitability, we find Buster Keaton, on commencement day, not charging ahead to shape a future, but pausing, vacillating, everywhere at once. Bumbling, stumbling, crashing forward.
Jennifer Egan, Pulitzer Prize (and every other prize) winning author, is publishing a story on Twitter. Her use of the second person completely and utterly captures the spirit of the medium.