Patricia Highsmith’s novels unfold like slow exhalations. They do not shout; they insinuate. A cigarette burns down, a train car hums, a glass of Campari is poured at a café in Naples. Beneath these ordinary gestures lurks unease, a sense that the veneer of civility is about to crack. For Highsmith, menace was not somethingContinue reading “Patricia Highsmith: Style, Menace, and the Art of Disquiet”
My World of Interiors 