James Kaplan’s “Frank: The Voice” is authentically a page-turner, a strident tabloid epic constructed out of facts — or more precisely out of the disparate and sometimes contradictory testimony of scores of participants in Frank Sinatra’s early life. There is certainly enough testimony to choose from; pieces of Sinatra, variously skewed and distorted, are scattered all over the latter part of the twentieth century. But they hardly converge into a unified portrait: confronted with the multitude of Sinatras that one must attempt to resolve into a single plausible person, there is a gathering sense of unsettling dissonance quite at odds with the perfected harmonies of his greatest recordings.
Japan just opened to tourists for the first time since the coronavirus pandemic began, echoing the island country’s isolationist policies during the feudal era.
Flashy desalination technology is more costly and cumbersome than many other solutions.
Uncertainty is inherent to our Universe.
It turns out it’s hard to make work at an Amazon warehouse fun.