The Reverberate Hills; or The Apotheosis of the Narwhal

One of the charming peculiarities of watching the Giants play at Major Phone Company Park, picturesquely perched right on the shores of San ...

The San Francisco Opera season was capped by Iphigenie en Tauride, which seems to be the latest of those works that suddenly reappear out of...

I finally roused myself to check out the keywords people have used that lead them to these Reverberate Hills. A surprising number of searche...

A little while back, over in The Standing Room, the recently revealed M. C- (Hi, Sid!) asked who could have guessed that the triumph of the ...

Decades of reading plays and seeing them live, and somehow, without deliberately avoiding it, I have never seen or read Our Town. Probably m...

For the last two weeks, I've spent my summer coughing -- hacking, hawking, and coughing, coughing, coughing like a road company Camille,...

Several months ago a food writer in the SF Chronicle scornfully chastised any Bay Area resident who would even think about using frozen duck...

Let me be more specific, since there’s quite a lot I don’t know: this is about baseball caps. Not the already-old switch in the way those cr...

I have another week of minimal computer access, so to tide you over here are some bon mots from Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: - Per...

Most holidays are so much better in theory than in practice, and the Fourth of July is second only to New Year’s Eve as the perfect example....