#Nybooks

There may be no unifying style in Eugène Atget’s photographs—only an uncanny realism that still arrests viewers a century after his death.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Louisiana v. Callais deals a fatal blow to the Voting Rights Act, using reasoning that Congress rejected more than forty years ago.

During the first hundred days of Donald Trump’s second presidency, while he was devastating American society with mass deportations and shredding the

As President Trump’s erratic negotiations with Iran drag on and oil prices continue to rise, the United States’ ostensible ethical justification for the

Pete Hegseth is the product of an essentially American ethos—which means we have no choice but to ask what to do with him, and what to do with ourselves.

Even in a country that has made a pastime of its declamatory public letters, this one seems to stand out. It’s not every day that a list of signatories

Magdalena Suarez Frimkess, who works with ceramics, has spent decades tapping unlikely sources for wisdom.

The young artist Emily Kraus is preoccupied with the question of whether machines can be surrogates for an artist’s unconscious.

In the May 27, 2010, issue of The New York Review of Books, Ingrid D. Rowland wrote “Radiant, Angry Caravaggio,” a look at the tempestuous

Call it “the art of the self-deal.” You sue yourself, announce a hasty “settlement” when the judge questions whether you are engaged in collusion (with

For a study of the French mystic-philosopher-militant Simone Weil (1909–1943) and the response to her work, I would appreciate hearing from anyone who

To the Editors: David A. Bell in his review of the exhibition “Viollet-le-Duc: Drawing Worlds” at the Bard Graduate Center writes, “The amazingly rapid

To the Editors: Orville Schell’s whitewashing of Chiang Kai-shek, as though he was merely a well-meaning patriot whose character flaws “were sadly

To the Editors: Catherine Nicholson has written a wonderful account of Beloved Son Felix , evidently a wonderful book, which I look forward to reading in

Hu Anyan’s memoir about delivering packages in Beijing is disarmingly direct about the human cost of modern logistics.

in rain. A blur, like another language isa mix of colorthat runs and spills. I do not look downbut across into tops of giant treeswhere birds come

After the fall of Berlin the Soviets concealed their discovery of Hitler’s remains, leaving the Western Allies scrambling for evidence that he was dead.

Generations of “sociobiologists” have tried and failed to argue that genetic analysis offers the key to understanding social inequality. A new book fares no better.

Historians must not cede the study of how Americans understand their cacophonous nation to advocates of “patriotic” history.

The Met’s new Tristan und Isolde was a vocal triumph for Lise Davidsen and Michael Spyres, but Yuval Sharon’s staging only fitfully captured the essence of Wagner’s masterpiece.