My Europe

I FIRST SET FOOT on European soil–if we include Britain as a European country, which most Americans don’t–when I was twenty-three years old.  I stayed a week, traveling around England and Scotland, visiting sites like Oxford and Coventry and Shakespeare’s home in Stratford-on-Avon, the castle of Mary Queen of Scots and Loch Ness and then Glen Coe, where my ancestors had been massacred.  I went to pubs and drank lots of beer and ate lots of awful food, I rented a car and drove in the wrong lane, and in general tried to soak up as much atmosphere as I could, like any tourist.  The book I was reading was George Orwell’s Road to Wigan Pier, and I liked to believe it still had some significance, it had something to say about the England I was seeing.

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Small Wonder

THE STORIES IN Michael Chabon’s second collection, Werewolves in their Youth, showcase his prodigious talents and touch on his major concerns–hope, loneliness, and the powers of the imagination. His work here is stronger and more sure-footed than ever, and fans of his novels The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (1988) and the more recent Wonder Boys (1995) will be left satisfied and asking for more.

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