Former Dublin newsman Paul Lynch made his debut as a novelist a few years ago with a book called Red Sky in Morning, set in mid-19th century County Donegal, where a rage-driven farmer has committed a murder with devastating results. The Black Snow, Lynch's second novel, returns us to Donegal, though at a later date, and he's working at an even higher level of accomplishment than before.
The answers in this game are Oscar winners for Best Picture, except that we've changed one letter in each title. What iconic Woody Allen movie tells the story of the woman who invented the suburban shopping center? That'd be "Annie Mall."
In honor of the final episode of Mad Men, we consider some TV series that ended in very bizarre ways. For instance, which family matriarch sits with her typewriter in the basement, as a voiceover tells us that she never won the lottery?
When Matthew Weiner was working as a writer on the HBO series The Sopranos, a crewman walked up to him and said, "I heard you were the son of a doctor from Hancock Park. What are you doing here?" Weiner responded, "Well, I have what they call 'an imagination.' "
More than 15 years later, that imagination landed Weiner a hit series on AMC. To date, Mad Men has earned him seven Emmy Awards, three Golden Globes, a Peabody and more.
In this game, we give a sentence with an overly literal misuse of a common business cliché, and you give us the cliché. For example, "I really need you to force the flat rectangular paper container to move forward!" is "push the envelope."
After 26 seasons of giving life to nincompoops, do-gooders, and even God, actor Harry Shearer has announced he'll be leaving The Simpsons. A stalwart of the show, Shearer has voiced central characters such as Ned Flanders, Mr. Burns, Reverend Lovejoy and Principal Seymour Skinner.
In a tweet sent in the wee hours of Thursday, Shearer said he was leaving "because I wanted what we've always had: the freedom to do other work."
Senators beelining for roll call at the U.S. Capitol, protesters brandishing signs on the Supreme Court sidewalk, guides mama-ducking tourists past the Beaux-Arts splendor of the Library of Congress — they don't always stop to note the elegant Art Deco low-rise tucked in alongside those showier landmarks. Andrea Mays thinks they ought to — and in The Millionaire and the Bard, a brisk chronicle of how William Shakespeare almost vanished into obscurity and how one obsessive American created the playwright's finest modern shrine, she makes a snappy, enjoyable case for why.