Experience the joy of not having to flag down a server for a small plate. Take a walk on the saucy side and dunk your spring roll straight into the soy sauce ramekin (trust me, it’s so much better than swirling it around on your shallow dish). See what it’s like to grab life — with your hands — by the squid ring.
Camilla Grudova’s debut, the short fiction collection The Doll’s Alphabet, was acclaimed as feminist horror reminiscent of Angela Carter and Margaret Atwood. In 13 often jarringly grotesque stories, Grudova built miniature scenarios to explore the disappointments of young women’s lives: dystopian worlds studded with double meanings and symbolic objects such as inscrutable dolls, mannequin parts and sewing machines. With slyly rococo titles such as Edward, Do Not Pamper the Dead and The Moth Emporium, it was as if the surrealist artist Leonora Carrington had undertaken a collaboration with David Lynch.
Yes, it’s just a novel, but Holsinger has built an apocalyptic plot on ground more secure than the foundations of many Miami homes.
Truman had established the agency in 1947 after dissolving its predecessor, the Office of Strategic Services, at the close of World War II for fear it might evolve, in his words, into an “American Gestapo.” Now it appeared that his worst fears had come to fruition. When former Central Intelligence Director Richard Helms appeared before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee nine years later, Senator Stuart Symington invoked the words of the 33rd president: “There is something about the way the CIA has been functioning that is casting a shadow over our historic position, and I feel we need to correct it.”
Author and political reporter Jefferson Morley captures these episodes in Scorpions’ Dance: The President, the Spymaster, and Watergate, a consistently engaging and sometimes riveting history of President Richard Nixon’s dealings with Helms.