Mention breakout 1980s novelists, and the names Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney inevitably top the list. But back in the day, Tama Janowitz was easily as big a deal as either of those boys. Witty where they were edgy, she set her comedies of errors among the rubble of Alphabet City and the rarified air of Upper East Side townhouses, and she lampooned the rites and rituals of the creative class with a rouge-tipped mischief that recalled the love child of Edith Wharton and Dorothy Parker – if either had been the type to wear Godzilla earrings. Continue Reading →
Here in New York spring has really sprung, and it’s making a grand entrance indeed. My prettiest dresses are sailing out of the closet; bright pastels are crowding the streets; heck, I even shaved my legs. (This activity usually lasts until mid-June, at which point I decide the patriarchy needs to get over itself and any lover scared off by a little fur won’t last long with me anyway.) The big news is that iced coffee is back on the menu. Since I 
I knew Barack Obama was going to be our president when I saw his speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, and I knew I was going to be ecstatic voting him into office. My heart exploded the day of his inauguration, and not just because he was our first president of color though that in itself was amazing. But I don’t have such a clearcut feeling this time, and it’s stressing me out, especially since everyone around me is feeling the Bern or, um, #iswithher.