“Where did they get the name Della Femina?” asked one of my companions. “Doesn’t that mean ‘Of the woman’? Is this place trying to be like Le Madri?”
It was obvious that my friend, a painter, is not one of those who either pass their summers in the Hamptons or spend much time in front Read More
If you can wipe from your mind the notion that this is a slice of autobiography–difficult, since the book jacket is so emphatic that this is what it is; if you can stop brooding about the legitimacy or otherwise of passing real life off as art, or what effect the public dissection of parental sexuality Read More
I did a terrible thing this morning,” said M. as she sat down at the table near the front of the dining room at Destinée. “I took some of Oscar’s medicine.”
“Who’s Oscar?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember?” she said, pulling out a small bottle of pills and placing them on the table in Read More