WORLD LITERATURE TODAY: The latest issue features ‘Reading in Tasmania’. The 100th year of continuous publicationgifts readers all their favorite genres—a profusion of essays, poetry, book reviews, creative nonfiction, fiction, interviews, a booklist for Trans Awareness Month, a postcard from Colombia, and more. Emma Wilkins’s essay on Tasmanian literature provides the cover feature, and translated work from China, Egypt, Mexico, Quebec, and Russia enlivens the issue. Reviews of new books by Solvej Balle, Emmanuel Carrère, Victoria Chang, Edwidge Danticat, Jon Fosse, and dozens more round out the year with essential reading-list titles.
Do the Fondation Beyeler’s new buildings by Peter Zumthor fit in with the rest of the site designed by Renzo Piano? Perhaps they aren’t trying to
What blockbuster auctions tell us about the value of art
The October auctions are always a test of the health of the art market, but there’s more than one way to read the results
Could members’ clubs bring new collectors into the art market?
From the November 2026 issue of Apollo. About a decade ago I found myself in a private room at the Arts Club on Dover Street in Mayfair explaining the reasons for my selection of that year’s international exhibitions, biennnials and art fairs to a table of wealthy diners. The expensively, if discreetly, dressed group – […]
The French restaurant that really does turn food into art
Guy Savoy is the first chef ever to be elected to the Académie des Beaux-Arts in France. A meal at his restaurant in Paris proves why he deserves this unprecedented honour
THE NEW CRITERION:The November 2026 issue, edited by Roger Kimball, features major pieces including “Notes & Comments,” David Butterfield’s “The classical inheritance, III: Bound by the book,” Lionel Shriver’s “What do progressives really want?,” D. J. Taylor’s “Spark’s fire,” Cory L. Andrews’s “Hippolyte Taine,” and a collection of “New poems” by David Mason, Jehanne Dubrow, and Robert Chandler, alongside dedicated columns covering reflections, theater, art, music, media, fiction, book reviews, and a notebook segment.
Bound by the book by David Butterfield
What do progressives really want? by Lionel Shriver
Spark’s fire by D. J. Taylor
Hippolyte Taine & the haunting persistence of history by Cory L. Andrews
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha explains that her poems—written over a decade from a position of relative safety in the US—did not target a specific reader, but rather reflect an evolving, non-linear attempt to communicate across a broad and complex readership profoundly shaped by ongoing trauma and genocide.
In her new collection Killing Spree, poet Jorie Graham evokes the dual-headed Roman deity Janus to confront a precarious present by looking back at an out-of-reach past while facing a distressing, violent future.
“What do you want from a poem? Do you go to poems for facts and information, or do you seek out poems because they express singular observations in unpredictable language, stir the imagination, open up possibilities?” By Liane Strauss
“It’s the way of the world, new in place of the old, but still, all those trees and plants and vegetables and flowers, so good and lush and kind somehow.” By Mirza Waheed
“And you mustn’t forget to include Kay in your all-round felicitations; for you don’t need to take my word for it, you can find internal evidence in the book itself that but for her there would have been no seventh book.” By Robert Frost
In The Nerd Reich Gil Durán shows how Silicon Valley billionaires have pushed a fringe ideology—what is popularly called techno-fascism but is closer in aspiration to straight-up totalitarianism—into the affairs of state.
The Nerd Reich: Silicon Valley Fascism and the War on Democracy by Gil Durán
LONDON REVIEW OF BOOKS: The latest issue featuresFredric the Great by Toril Moi; Trump’s Consigliere by Deborah Friedell; Prediction Markets by Geoff Mann; Prynne’s People by Iain Sinclair; and Theibaud’s Sweet Tooth by Paul Keegan….
Fredric Jameson seemed to me to have read absolutely everything. He was the very antithesis of the intellectual type I think of as an empty theoriser, by which I mean someone who endlessly conjectures without having a genuine command of any relevant archive. To look at Fred as a reader of literature is not to reduce the scope of his work, but rather to try to understand its origins.
Nothing reliable is known about the life of Homer, yet two founding poems of Western literature bear his name. Harold Bloom, who said he could read and absorb a 400-page book in an hour, left a monument made not of poems but of memory. A new essay sets them face to face, with a third reader between them.
The singer, the reader and the lattice: three ages of memory in one room, made for the essay.
Why we’re pointing you there
Bloom held that every strong writer survives the past by misreading it on purpose, swerving from a precursor to make room for something new. Michael Cummins sets that theory against a reader Bloom never met: a language model, trained on a large share of everything written. The essay moves through scenes rather than abstractions. In 1926 the editor of Poetry asked Hart Crane, whose poems were the first book Bloom ever owned, to explain how dice could “bequeath an embassy,” and Crane’s answer became a defense of the unlikely line. A singer in 1930s Yugoslavia swore he sang a song “word for word and line for line,” and the recordings showed he hadn’t. In 2023 a chatbot supplied a federal court decision, signed with a real judge’s name, that no judge had ever written.
Along the way come Benjamin Franklin rebuilding essays from The Spectator, Helen Keller’s trial over a story she didn’t know she remembered, BloomBloom’s one novel and the precursor he couldn’t escapersquo;s one novel and the precursor that haunted it, and a singer in the Odyssey pleading for his life: “Self-taught am I.” The essay says plainly that it was drafted with Claude. It leaves one question open: when a writer can ask, at any hour, for the likeliest next line of anything, will that writer still learn to want the line no one else could have written?
The dice of drowned men’s bones, after Hart Crane, made for the essay.