In a new work of crime fiction from author Mukoma Wa Ngugi you still have the detective and his buddy, the mysterious body that turns up at the outset, and the crazy bar where the cops and criminals hang out together. Only this time, we're not in Scandinavia, or South Florida or on Mystic River. We're in a Nairobi beset with political violence, hotel bombings and ethnic warfare.
You have probably never tasted it, but you have likely heard of it: the cronut.
It rolled out in May at Dominique Ansel Bakery in New York City. Since then, it has taken off. A black market has sprung up, with scalpers selling them for up to $100 a pop. Social and traditional media have lit up with coverage, and imitators around the world are trying to tap in on the success.
In a scene from the film Violeta Went to Heaven, the Chilean singer Violeta Parra (played by Francisca Gavilán) walks through the countryside with her son Angel in search of a woman whose songs she wants to learn and record. Her son asks her, "What if we can't find this lady? Isn't she old?"
Frank Turner writes folk songs that harness the fury of punk and the majesty of Springsteenian rock 'n' roll. But more than anything else, his music is playful: There's conversational wit and bite to Turner's music, even as he's bellowing to the back rows. His songs lose little when you strip away electric instruments and leave the entertainment value to a single skinny, tattooed guy with an acoustic guitar.
You know Americans love lists - 100 best films, best barbeque joints, best cheesecakes. Each year, ARTnews magazine compiles a list of the biggest spenders in the art world. Some of the names may be familiar, some are surprising, some maybe a little of both. Milton Esterow is the editor and publisher of ARTnews and joins us from our studios in New York. Thanks so much for being with us.
MILTON ESTEROW: Nice to be here.
SIMON: Are these folks just big spenders or something more?
Americans can seem a little sports-crazy, thanks to multimillion-dollar salaries for stars and big games that are practically national holidays. But our passion for sports has its limits: football, baseball and basketball, yes. Cricket? Not so much. In contrast, perhaps no country has more passion for a sport — any sport — than India has for cricket.
It's a hot summer afternoon and the recital hall at Purchase College is abuzz with excitement and nervous energy. One hundred and twenty teenagers, from 42 states, are about to embark on an extraordinary musical and personal journey.
Clive Gillinson, executive director of Carnegie Hall, steps up to the podium to greet them. "Welcome to all of you," he says. "It's wonderful to welcome you here to the first-ever National Youth Orchestra of the United States of America!"
Near the beginning of the Road Warrior there is a scene in which Mel Gibson's character eats dog food.
It is a perfect moment, a beautiful moment, a completely defining moment — a pause in the post-apocalyptic action where the writers gave us everything we needed to know about Gibson's Max Rockatansky in one, long, wordless scene. And it was a moment that — watching the movie at likely far too young an age on some long-gone Saturday night at the drive-in — messed me up for life.