The Philosophy of Separation: Why Art Owes You Nothing

Featured Image Source I’ve really been struggling with artists who are problematic. Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to like anything anymore because as soon as I mention, say, Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse and how it cured my depression, somebody has to pipe up to remind me that she was horrendously anti-Semitic. Or, as soon as…

When a Book Finds You at Just the Right Time

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn found me when I was 11, the same age as the main character when the book begins. A Little Paris Bookshop found me just after a breakup. To the Lighthouse found me a few weeks ago— I guess I’ll figure out what brought her to me in the retrospective. But…