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Alex Eaton-Salners whirls in with a devilish puzzle.
By Caitlin Lovinger
The poet Wallace Stevens often tinkered with drafts on his way to the insurance office.
By Paul Elie
Last year, Mr. McCann was attacked and badly hurt on a street in New Haven. The damage reverberated beyond the physical, informing this melancholy work.
By Sarah Lyall
Walking in the footsteps of Wallace Stevens is one thing. Untangling his poetry is another.
By Jeff Gordinier
In the city of Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe, the 20th-century poet Wallace Stevens found inspiration on his daily walk to and from work.
The Connecticut capital is where Wallace Stevens composed many of his verses while commuting on foot between his comfortable house and his office at an insurance company.
A sampler of literary catastrophe for these dark times. Don’t run away. It’s not as depressing as it sounds. One of the enduring paradoxes of great apocalyptic writing is that it consoles even as it alarms.
By Sam Tanenhaus
The first edition of Wallace Stevens’s work in 20 years, edited by John N. Serio.
By Helen Vendler
Making your way back to yourself, with the help of Whitman, Dylan and Cole Porter after brain surgery.
By Tom Chaffin
Roberta Smith Critic's Notebook on group shows at galleries in Chelsea; list of exhibtions; photos (M)
By Roberta Smith
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