Columnists

The scene outside my bedroom window was a blur of whiteout. It was like being inside the white-and-purple twister lifting the house to Oz.

Olympics on the TV as a source of cohesion.

Ever since hantavirus became a thing on the East End, it has been war.

In the pews, what’s old is new again.

According to Robert O. Paxton’s “The Anatomy of Fascism,” each country where fascism arises puts its own stamp on it.

We should all be concerned about the survival of the luncheonette.

When representing your home country isn’t so easy.

Say what you will about the Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show, it was one hell of a lesson on the span of time.

The Ladies Village Improvement Society may be to blame for my psychological impulse to imagine each incoming “mail piece” as a potential present from some secret admirer or perhaps a fan letter with an enclosed hundred-dollar bill.

“Wonder Man” on Disney+ succeeds with an unlikely friendship between two struggling actors compromised in different ways.

Fallen houses have always drawn crowds.

Dr. Russell Hurlburt’s tests reveal that about 30 to 50 percent of people regularly talk to themselves silently.

Hints of blue in a drift of snow? It’s a sign that a rare “real winter” has hit the South Fork.

The Trump administration checks all the boxes on a list of fascist tendencies.

My lack of anything interesting to tell you this week makes me worried that I will soon be treating you to repeated columns about the bird feeder.

As an editor in the Vogue features department, I was never in the position of making aesthetic decisions about clothing, accessories, makeup, or shoes, but I did exert my opinions about language.

In the N.F.L., the wrong people tend to get shown the door.

Do we really think that Pete Hegseth has ever read a book?

When even a diminished public radio landscape drives you near to insane.

After we posted a story about a vigil here for Renee Good, quite a few of the accounts that attacked her, The Star, or liberals in general I knew from around town. Their anger surprised me in its intensity.

Wiping out variety and multiplicity — in any form, culturally or environmentally, through globalization or technology — is never healthy.

Reluctantly checking in with the new N.B.A.

It is unlikely that East Hampton is going to have food delivered by robot any time soon, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

The front of my house is a disgrace.

Bestirred by televised yule log nostalgia.

It is fascinating to see how a tragic event 200 years ago helped advance science.

Until December 2025, my children had distinguished themselves by not getting me proper gifts. Ever.

The recent spate of injuries to football’s biggest stars makes it hard to justify a 17-game schedule, let alone extending to 18.

Life was slower here in the 1970s, and streaking, of all things, more prevalent.

The holiday is a good time to remember that life was more communal centuries ago, lived out in the street and on the commons, often with alcohol.