Michael Chabon is the author of several books, including The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Wonder Boys, The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier and Klay, The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son and most recently, Telegraph Avenue. His essay in the March 7, 2013 issue will appear in different form in The Wes Anderson Collection, to be published by Abrams later this year.
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The Film Worlds of Wes Anderson
March 7, 2013
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Head or Tale
September 27, 2012
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On the Vico Road
September 27, 2012
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What to Make of Finnegans Wake?
July 12, 2012
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On ‘The Phantom Tollbooth’
June 9, 2011
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Manhood for Amateurs: The Wilderness of Childhood
July 16, 2009
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Obama & the Conquest of Denver
October 9, 2008
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In Priceland
May 1, 2008
Lush Life
by Richard Price
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After the Apocalypse
February 15, 2007
The Road
by Cormac McCarthy
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After Strange Gods
September 22, 2005
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On ‘The Mysteries of Pittsburgh’
June 9, 2005
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The Game’s Afoot
February 24, 2005
The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes, Volumes 1 and 2
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, edited with a foreword and notes by Leslie S. Klinger, and with an introduction by John le Carré
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Inventing Sherlock Holmes
February 10, 2005
The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes, Volumes 1 and 2
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Dust & Daemons
March 25, 2004
The Golden Compass
by Philip Pullman
The Subtle Knife
by Philip Pullman
The Amber Spyglass
by Philip Pullman
Lyra’s Oxford
by Philip Pullman
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Wes Anderson's Worlds
January 31, 2013
From Rushmore to Moonrise Kingdom (shamefully neglected by this year’s Academy voters), Wes Anderson’s films readily, even eagerly, concede the “miniature” quality of the worlds he builds.
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Why I Hate Dreams
June 15, 2012
I hate dreams. Dreams are the Sea Monkeys of consciousness: in the back pages of sleep they promise us teeming submarine palaces but leave us, on waking, with a hermetic residue of freeze-dried dust. The wisdom of dreams is a fortune on paper that you can’t cash out, an oasis of shimmering water that turns, when you wake up, to a mouthful of sand. I hate them for their absurdities and deferrals, their endlessly broken promise to amount to something, by and by. I hate them for the way they ransack memory, jumbling treasure and trash. I hate them for their tedium, how they drag on, peter out, wander off.
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'The Phantom Tollbooth' and the Wonder of Words
April 21, 2011
When I was a boy I read, in a biography of Daniel Boone, or of Daniel Beard, that young Dan (whichever of the two it may have been—or maybe it was young George Washington) had so loved some book, had felt his heart and mind inscribed so deeply in its every line, that he had pricked his fingertip with a knife and, using a pen nib and his blood for ink, penned his name on the flyleaf. At once, reading that, I knew two things: 1) I must at once undertake the same procedure and 2) only one, among all the books I adored and treasured, was worthy of such tribute: The Phantom Tollbooth. At that point I had read it at least five or six times.
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Michael Chabon at Town Hall
March 15, 2013
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Michael Chabon at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, Part II
September 2, 2008
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Michael Chabon at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, Part I
August 27, 2008