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The Transmetropolitan series of graphic novels is satiric, dark, and wonderfully profane.
If you can keep up with all the gore and naked, white flesh that comes with most H.B.O. shows, you will enjoy True Blood.
Being a handicap in a farming family is a deadly curse—the ignominy of being an extra mouth to feed without the solace of being a helping hand.
Uttarkashi isn’t likely to make the top ten lists of many tourists. It doesn’t offer much in the way of museums or ancient ruins or souvenirs.
To put it simply, Game of Thrones is no simple, black-and-white tale of good versus evil.
Airports and airplanes are the best places to try on different faces to masquerade your identity and experiment with your personality.
The excitement of having solved a mystery can be said to only marginally exceed the frustration at encountering new questions.
What is really interesting is how much further Sherlock goes than the original stories in developing the characters of the two protagonists.
Bryan Talbot’s The Tale of One Bad Rat should be forced on to everyone with half a working mind and half a decent heart.
The secret to happiness, so intangible, and yet so familiar, remains too tantalisingly nebulous to encapsulate in words.
It was a row of circling flames along the riverbank at dusk, illuminating clouds of incense and chanting pilgrims. For a moment, the postcards came to life.
Is our reality merely a game of chance? Is Schrödinger’s cat really alive and dead at the same time?
