You’ll be happier if you grade reality on a curve.
The outgoing president’s journey from reality television to the Oval Office is evident in every smile and every scowl.
A poem for the end of Donald Trump’s presidency
Seeking in the eloquent benders of Dylan Thomas and Herman Mankiewicz an answer to an ancient riddle
Go ahead, take one.
A selection of the most illuminating music to come out of a dark year, handpicked by our staffers
No spy novel has captured England—or the human capacity for duplicity—like John le Carré’s hunt for the mole.
In Inside Story, his final novel, the comic master delights, infuriates, and secures his legacy.
Thaw that turkey, and your soul. We hope these odes to the small pleasures in life will at least bring you back to room temperature.
They minister, they mollify, they bring us blankets.
A poem for Sunday
Taking pleasure in others’ pain as a reader of the advice column
The president preferred Jesus’s teachings to his supernatural acts—and edited his copy of the New Testament accordingly.
He boiled strings, cut vibrato bars in half, put the head of one guitar on the body of another—and created a sound that changed rock forever.
A new book retells the artist’s fairy tale—rising out of deprivation to storm the spires of rock and roll—by considering his influence on the U.K.
How about this weather?
A poem for Sunday
Armando Iannucci’s adaptation of Dickens’s novel is mad, loving, and brilliant.
Gravity is overrated.
The legendary band could almost blend in with other acts during the counterculture of the ’70s. But today, the group looks like a pure phenomenon.