My adult son, worried about my health, urged me to flee. But New York doesn’t let go easily. I didn’t want to leave the city. If the thou...

The following is an excerpt from a manuscript called HOW TO BE ALONE IN DENMARK, which centers around a 300-year-old peasant's cottage wh...

LATELY, MADISON SQUARE PARK has provided a staging area for provocative art installations, pop-up food courts and outdoor work spaces. Pe...

I owned the cottage right from the beginning. Or it owned me. For one thing, it was so old. Later we found it on maps dating back to the ...

He pointed a way for American fiction out of the doldrums of postmodernism, writes George Blecher. For a culture troubled by the corrosiv...

Email, text messaging and social networks have revolutionized the way we communicate. Yet as the magic of instantaneity fades, George Ble...

Tough materialism and existential frankness, an awareness of one’s mortality balanced by the refusal to talk bullshit: George Blecher sel...

No translator can translate equally well. A lot gets lost in translation. Some languages don’t translate well. These are just some of the...

At first you don’t notice them. They’re so skinny that in a crowd of three or more at a street corner or in a mall, they disappear. When ...

Eating in a Manhattan midtown restaurant the other night, I happened to glance over at the bar area. People were perched on bar stools, ...

George Blecher discusses the timeliness of Thorstein Veblen’s “Theory of the Leisure Class” and traces his own lust for the “predatorines...