The New Yorker, November 18, 2013
Thanksgiving in Mongolia
Adventure and Heartbreak at the Edge of the Earth
September 30, 2013
How Edith Windsor fell in love, got married, and won a landmark case for gay rights.
The New Yorker, January 11, 2010
In her new memoir, Elizabeth Gilbert gets married—whether she likes it or not.
The New Yorker, November 30, 2009
Sports, Sex, and the Case of Caster Semenya
The New Yorker, January 25, 2009
"The Joy of Sex" for Today's Reader
New York Magazine, March 26, 2007
George Trow’s "Within the Context of No Context" was a brilliant, scary vision of a cultural end-time. Then, having described it, he lived it, spiraling into madness.
New York Magazine, May 10, 2004
Stanley Bosworth, the mad genius behind one of New York’s legendary schools, is not going gently into that good night.
The New Yorker, June 22, 2009
A trip to the glamorous romper room where Simon Doonan and Jonathan Adler reside.
The New Yorker, June 6, 2011
Have Italians had enough of Berlusconi?

Thanksgiving in Mongolia

Adventure and Heartbreak at the Edge of the Earth

linkhttp://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2013/11/18/131118fa_fact_levy?currentPage=all
My favorite game when I was a child was Mummy and Explorer. My father and I would trade off roles: one of us had to lie very still with eyes closed and arms crossed over the chest, and the other had to complain, “I’ve been searching these pyramids for so many years. When will I ever find the tomb of Tutankhamun?” (This was in the late seventies, when Tut was at the Met, and we came in from the suburbs to visit him frequently.) At the climax of the game, the explorer stumbles on the embalmed Pharaoh and—brace yourself—the mummy opens his eyes and comes to life. The explorer has to express shock, and then says, “So, what’s new?” To which the mummy replies, "You."

I was not big on playing house. I preferred make-believe that revolved around adventure, featuring pirates and knights. I was also domineering, impatient, relentlessly verbal, and, as an only child, often baffled by the mores of other kids. I was not a popular little girl. I played Robinson Crusoe in a small wooden fort that my parents built for me in the back yard. In the fort, I was neither ostracized nor ill at ease—I was self-reliant, brave, ingeniously surviving, if lost.