
I have been roundly (and deservedly) chastised in e-mails and elsewhere by Slate readers for my use of “good riddance” in connection with this kind woman’s death. I admit, I was not really thinking of her as a person with actual feelings and a family, just an abstraction who happened to write these books. Apologies. Next time I will be more humane. —Hanna
I wasn't acquainted with the Berenstain Bears but, having read Rosin’s anti-obit, I’m intrigued—especially since she mentions that noted asshole Charles Krauthammer finds them “post-feminist,” and Papa Bear “the Alan Alda of grizzlies.” (He goes on: "a wimp so passive and fumbling he makes Dagwood Bumstead look like Batman.") Rosin thinks they’re the opposite: humorless and retrograde.
Related: yesterday in corrections.
That's not surprising; it's complicated. While there's something really ugly about fiction like Boyle's, which comes dressed in the trappings of biography (with real names, facts, and photos) and then plays fast and loose with the truth—who's going to quibble about Shakespeare?
And the injured parties aren't in any position to object.
That's how I felt on seeing Manual Cinema's Ada/Ava last summer.
All shadow-puppet plays necessarily look at least a little bit alike, so it was familiar in that respect. And the subject matter—an exploration of what happens when inseparable old twins are finally parted by death—seemed redolent, picking up on ingrown-sibling lore that runs from the pixilated sisters in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town through the murderous ones in Arsenic and Old Lace to the weird ones in Macbeth (with a side trip to the hoarding Collyer brothers of books, plays, movies, and reality). What took me by surprise was the Dante-esque journey undertaken—part willingly, but part not—by the devastated surviving twin, Ada, as she tried to master her loss. A visit to a traveling carnival yielded twisted images and false exits worthy of the hall-of-mirrors shoot-out in The Lady From Shanghai.
“[It will be] a home where image and word have equal weight,” said the editors in the first issue, “where photographers and writers have equal license to wander and to wonder: a home that welcomes poets and novelists, photographers and journalists, short-story writers and essayists, some of whom are known, and some of whom are unknown, and all of whom recognize the power of narrative to reveal and then to transform.”
Andrew Jones, e-mailing me from San Francisco to ask me to give his new monthly iPad magazine, Once magazine, some attention, referred to DoubleTake as a touchstone. Because the new issue is his fifth, and he sent along glimpses of earlier issues, I can take the comparison seriously. “We publish the best photographers in the world,” he asserted. “ Two of our contributors won World Press Photo awards a few days ago.”

Famous for outrageous designs and a mouth to match ("take your tenure and shove it up your ass," he told UIC the first time he walked out on a professorship there), he's Chicago architectural history at its liveliest (here's our recent profile). The Graham Foundation is also hosting a retrospective exhibit of Tigerman's work, notable for the absence of any photographs of his actual buildings. The lecture is free, but click here for information and to reserve a seat. The Graham Foundation is at 4 West Burton Place.
Related: awesome blog Yo, Is This Racist? weighs in.
If we’re going to explore the dark side of romance, we need to be guided by a professional. Ambrose Bierce was the Izaak Walton of cynicism: he turned the pastime of lesser men into his livelihood. And here’s what he had to say about true love:
Love: A temporary insanity curable by marriage.
Marriage. The state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress and two slaves, making in all, two.
The author bio on the advance copy's book jacket:
"Sergio De La Pava is a writer who does not live in Brooklyn."