Marc Haefele Commentator, Off-Ramp
Marc Haefele is an arts, politics, and literature commentator for KPCC's Off Ramp.
Haefele was a staff writer for LA Weekly, City News of Los Angeles, and the Morristown (NJ) Record. He has written for the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Philadelphia Daily News, the Boston Review, Nomada de Buenos Aires and many other publications.
He cohosted the KPFK weekday morning drive time show in 1999-2000, and for the subsequent decade was city hall commentator for KPCC.
In the later 60s and early 70s, Haefele worked for Random House, then Doubleday publishers in New York, where his writers included Philip K. Dick, Steven King, Tom Disch, Marge Piercy, Kate Millett and Josephine Saxton. While at LA Weekly, he won the LA Press Club's Best Column award. He has shared Golden Mikes with his KPCC colleagues.
He has an M.A. in history from NYU and Cal State Los Angeles.
Haefele lives in Santa Monica.
Stories by Marc Haefele
Trying to avoid bland, I ended up more than doubling the proper amount of paprika, resulting in a kind of Danubian vindaloo that had our guests gasping like circus fire eaters working overtime. Do not underestimate those Mitteleuropische seasonings: they can pack all the wallop of Oaxacan chile molido.
Never having been prone to sticking his head out of the trench, Bergoglio is more likely to be an opponent of change than a change agent. Maybe the best we can hope for is the commitment of the Irish priest reported by novelist Honor Tracy, “to always take the straight and narrow path between right and wrong.”
If you want a window into the livid present that opens to the smells, tastes, and feelings of this brave, unbelievably downtrodden country, "Farewell, Fred Voodoo" is the book for you, in which Wilentz shows how choices we’ve made as Americans—as voters, as consumers—have helped create the Haiti of today.
“What’s certain is that if we had built the facility as (originally planned), the extra beds would have cost a whole lot less. That was a bad decision.”
It's a story just for you, lurking deep in this unique, strange and wonderful little painting. But you've only another month left to see it.
Off-Ramp commentator Marc Haefele takes a closer look at the last British king to die in battle, now British authorities have positively identified his remains in a Leicester parking lot.
He did save the city from bankruptcy. He was both the face of New York and in your face, celebrating himself like Walt Whitman on steroids. And now everyone loves him. Now that he's dead.
"A cool concept is only 20% of the engineering effort, the other 80% of the effort is in ensuring that the concept translates into something that can be built and assembled."
At the moment of his triumph, Carothers succumbed to depression and alcoholism, and killed himself. Maybe that's why his career has been largely ignored.
It may have been offering Bristol Farms quality, but you had to walk past the eyebrow-braider and the derelict empanada stand to get there. Young hipsters don't like to do that sort of thing these days.
The pity of it is you feel Tarantino, at the top of his form, is up to making the Great American Slavery Movie. If only he weren't more interested in just having his own kind of fun.
Florence was a city with a rule of law in which the humble could rise, and where, at least in this era, privilege did not dictate nor tyrants terrorize. Maybe the Renaissance began here just because it was the city with the biggest heart.
"Sometimes his guiding hand felt like a boot in my butt," said his brother Patrick, "but his influence was always positive."
Philip K. Dick dedicated 40 novels and hundreds of short stories to the proposition that we cannot trust what we see, know who we are, or even know if our everyday world truly exists.
I looked back into the Villa's central courtyard. Among brightlit Pompeian pillars, we happy Angelini disported ourselves over good wine, food and music. As as blissed, one imagines, as any gathering of the original Pompeiians in the original villa might have been on a similar kindly summer night, 1,933 years ago, just before their friendly old mountain went nuclear.