I’ve seen two movies in recent days that I can’t shake. Both are late-1960’s films about a stranger in a hostile and unfamiliar place who, through an unlikely relationship, discovers unknown darkness and lightin himself and in others. My emotional response to each movie was contrad

While the Super Bowl is a distant memory (in the age of day-trading, instant e-mails and online newspapers, anything that took place more than a month ago is a distant memory), it is by no means too late to talk about a book and a man intimately connected to championship football games.

This past year my wife and I grew weary of the vertiginous dance of dual-career parenting. In the end, I decided to surrender the professorial life in order to pursue nonacademic writing and be with my kids, who are one and three. Everyone has been very supportive: "You’re doing the right

'Even the monsters Hitler or Stalin are fallen sinners, and we cry and pray for them.' In recent months, while a war-time pontiff’s attitudes toward mid-century European totalitarianism became a subject of written discussion (as in Hitler’s Pope and the response to it by reviewer

William Bennett’s latest book, The Educated Child, earned a prominent place on my shelves the day I caught a glimpse of just how difficult it must be for people who wish to raise educated childrenindeed, how difficult it must be to wish to be an educated child. While making my occasional and u

At this time every year I’m remindedas gently as the onset of a hurricanethat sports and hype are preternaturally synonymous nowadays. Akin to a national religious holiday, Super Sunday is a festive farrago of the American spirit. Super Bowl parties abound, veritable melting pots. Rich and poo