By Liz Garrigan, CHAPTER 16 Amazon, we really need to talk. My relationship with you feels like an illicit love affair because, I suppose, it sort of is. I want you, but I hate myself for it. I hide our relationship from many of...
By Liz Garrigan, CHAPTER 16 Amazon, we really need to talk. My relationship with you feels like an illicit love affair because, I suppose, it sort of is. I want you, but I hate myself for it. I hide our relationship from many of...
By Liz Garrigan, CHAPTER 16 Six years ago, state authorities in Florida investigated a child neglect case so vile and gut-wrenching that even an experienced social worker and a cop found themselves vomiting at the scene. In a small house full of filth, barely...
By Liz Garrigan, STYLE BLUEPRINT Merchandising-ly speaking, I’ve been an utter failure since expatriating to Paris five months ago. One day on the bus, near the Champs-Elysees, I passed...
By Liz Garrigan, CHAPTER 16 In a brutal but fabulously entertaining essay in The New York Times, Neil Genzlinger recently argued that the memoir genre is out of control,...
By Liz Garrigan, NASHVILLE SCENE There he was, not many months’ distance from civic sainthood in the aftermath of the epic May flood. Rightly or wrongly, even those who’d...
Hey Thanks
By Liz Garrigan, NASHVILLE SCENE Are you The Great Pumpkin? Santa? Or did one of them send you? Because what you have given journalists is nothing short of wondrous. In fact, you have singlehandedly made me question my choice to quit the profession. And not just because of that vaguely pretty boy face of...
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