Legendary author Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451, 1953) broadly described science fiction as “any idea that occurs in the head and doesn’t exist yet but soon will, and will change everything…” His view may not apply universally to such stories, but it certainly captures the essence of science fiction as a literary genre.
Dracula. The name alone evokes images of pale skin; long fingernails; sharp, mesmeric eyes; and brilliantly white, blood-laced teeth.
It's a tale as old as time. Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Against all odds, the besotted couple overcomes adversity, unites in marriage, and lives happily ever after.
There is something about the Old American West that has, for years, enthralled people around the world. For some, it’s the freedom inherent in the open landscape; to others, it’s the sense of danger and excitement associated with its untamed, even lawless, atmosphere.
Chances are you are sitting on a chair as you read this edition of the Tribune. Perhaps it’s a plush recliner or a comfortable rocker. Maybe you’re cocooned within a generous wing chair or wedged into a beanbag chair.
Michael Tougias is no stranger to stories of the sea. He’s written well over a dozen books, many of them dealing with nautical disasters and struggles to survive.
There is a longstanding tradition of books about the passing of wisdom from one generation to the next. At the top of the list, Tuesdays With Morrie is probably the most widely read example of that particular genre.
The year was 1985, and Kendra Kopelke remembers it like it was yesterday. Not long out of graduate school with a degree in writing, she had been teaching various expository composition courses at colleges in Maryland.
There is something pleasant about the idea of sitting down with a thrilling mystery novel. Whether it’s a hot summer’s day in air-conditioning or a cold winter’s night next to the wood stove, turning the pages of a good “whodunit” is just plain literary in every sense of the word, and with good reason.