She [Maya Angelou] towered over everyone and exuded a power that I had not recognized in anyone other than my mother. It was in her height. It was in her carriage. It was in her voice. And, I said to myself, 'This is woman to be reckoned with.'

Not later than last summer, this grand theatrical apartment was divided into a suite of shabby, bandboxical rooms for the accommodation of the Infant of Parma.

More significantly, rigid deference to [Justin] Bieber’s still-young core fan base keeps things resolutely PG, with any acknowledgement of sex either couched in vague “touch your body” workarounds or downgraded to desirous hand-holding and eye-gazing.

My favorite novelist was on a flying visit to London last week for a book signing.