A gloriously stunning debut novel, Jana Casale’s “The Girl Who Never Read Noam Chomsky” follows Leda, a college student in Boston, as she navigates her life and identity over the years. It’s a simple setup to a story that somehow talks about everything while seemingly going on about absolutely nothing.
At $16 a haircut, the Aveda Institute can’t really be beat. Services are given by students, under the guidance and supervision of their instructors. When I walked in for my first great chop there, all I could think about was how I was playing a very, very dangerous game. I was risking walking out of that place looking like I was wearing a mushroom on my head, and for what? A cheap haircut? Sitting in the lobby, in the throes of my existential malaise, it wasn’t long before my student came down to get me.
Every time I fly back to St. Louis, I just know that at least one of the security guards I pass on my way to baggage claim will say “howdy” instead of “hello.” The thought always makes me giddy because it means I’m home. It means I’m finally back in the city that has its own cheese and loves baseball with irrevocable abandon. We’re a city that says “howdy.”