In the beautifully written memoir My Father, the Pornographer, Chris Offutt tries to make sense of his father’s past as the “king of 20th century smut.”
Although Paul Kalanithi dreamed of becoming a writer, he first planned to spend 20 years as a neurosurgeon-scientist. Tragically, however, in 2013—during his last year of residency at Stanford—the nonsmoking 36-year-old was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer.
On a recent flight, I was deep into social psychologist and Harvard professor Amy Cuddy’s fascinating new book, Presence, when the woman next to me leaned over and said, “Is that the TED talk lady?”
Stacy Schiff, author of The Witches, a brilliant, exceptionally well-researched account of the 1692 Salem witch trials, says her number one requirement when writing her prize-winning nonfiction books is “a big desk, an enormous desk!”
A new biography offers a heartbreaking look at the life of Rosemary Kennedy, who was lobotomized and hidden away because of her disability.
Margaret Eby explores the hometowns and stomping grounds of 10 Southern authors in her literary travelogue, South Toward Home.
Jen Hatmaker has earned a devoted following by writing with humor and heart about mothering five children in Austin, Texas, a city she calls the home of the hipsters. In her latest book, For the Love, the popular Christian writer and star of HGTV’s “My Big Family Renovation” encourages readers to embrace imperfection.
Former Stanford dean of freshmen Julie Lythcott-Haims warns about the pitfalls of overparenting in How to Raise an Adult.
Judy, a purebred English pointer born in Shanghai in 1936, was clearly one special dog: The only canine POW of World War II, she survived the grueling experience thanks to her friend and protector, Royal Air Force technician Frank Williams. When the transport ship on which the two were being moved came under attack, Frank pushed Judy through a porthole into the South China Sea to save her life. It was one of many close calls she would endure during more than three years in captivity.
Does photographer Sally Mann really have a bulging file called “Maternal Slights,” as she writes in her courageous and visually ravishing memoir, Hold Still?