From an archived version of a blog post titled “How to Murder Your Husband,” which was allegedly written in 2011 by Nancy Brophy, who was put on trial in April for shooting and killing her husband in ...

In the September 2025 issue of Harper’s Magazine, a selection from Jeff Kisseloff’s book Rewriting Hisstory: A Fifty-Year Journey to Uncover the Truth ...

The October leaves coming down, as if called. Morning fog through the wild rye beyond the train tracks. A cigarette. A good sweater. On the sagging porch. While the family sleeps. That I woke at all & ...

The only letter I’ve ever sent to the New York Times was in the 1980s, objecting to the paper’s suddenly pestilent use of “draconian.” During Iran–Contra the complaint must have seemed trivial; the ...

Americans are finally beginning to appreciate the magnitude of the inequalities in income and wealth that mark our society. Lately, this realization has been helped along by an unexpected source: the ...

No one is entirely sure when magical penis loss first came to Africa. One early incident was recounted by Dr. Sunday Ilechukwu, a psychiatrist, in a letter some years ago to the Transcultural ...

The story begins, as so many do, with a journey. In this case, it’s a seemingly simple one: a young girl, cloaked in red, must carry a basket of food through the woods to her bedridden grandmother.

Audio excerpt courtesy of Simon & Schuster Audio from The Silence by Don DeLillo, read by Laurie Anderson, Jeremy Bobb, Marin Ireland, Robin Miles, Jay O. Sanders and ...

A woman’s foot presses into my face as I lie masturbating on a floor in Bushwick, and the world is on fire. The air quality in New York City is officially the worst on earth: smoke from Canadian ...

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Earl Shorris’s book about the Clemente Course in the Humanities, The Art of Freedom: Teaching the Humanities to the Poor, will be published in 2013 by W. W. Norton. He was awarded a National ...

It was a mild May evening in South Carolina’s Congaree National Park, and Raphael Sarfati stood on a trail beneath a loblolly pine he’d chosen as a landmark. The horizon to his left glimmered with ...