Behind the Lines
What’s next?
Former Texas Monthly editor in chief Gregory Curtis was born in Corpus Christi and raised in Kansas City, Missouri. He received a BA in English from Rice University and a master’s in English from San Francisco State College. While in San Francisco, he ran a small printing and publishing company. He came to Texas Monthly in 1972 as part of the original staff. In 1981 he became editor in chief, a position he held until 2000. In addition to Texas Monthly, he has written for the New York Times, New York Times Magazine, Rolling Stone, Fortune, and Time. Curtis is the author of three books—Disarmed: The Story of the Venus de Milo, The Cave Painters: Probing the Mysteries of the World’s First Artists, and Paris Without Her: A Memoir. He lives in Austin. Once an adequate equestrian, he is now an aspiring magician.
What’s next?
Ten thousand doors.
Mind over manners.
Memories are made of this, pal.
The phantom building.
The good book.
Songs of innocence.
Three birds or a fountain?
It was simple, really. With Charlie’s Angels, television discovered sex.
The new organization man.
Dignity and groovy threads.
Out on the outskirts of town.
The perfect city.
The big boom.
The water problem; or, Texas is not all wet.
In defense of failure—and success.
Gaudy, drawling, filthy rich.
Two men from Dallas.
Strange bedfellows.
A tale of fourteen cities.
Alphabet blocks.
Dress code.
Fan tales.
Help!
In the tradition.
Too many chefs.
Party hearty.
Restless, rustless.
Music lover.
Black and brown.
Love in Bloom.
Steering Bum Steers.
Wee people.
The Recovery Room band is at home in Dallas and New York, too.
By Gregory Curtis and Michael Rozek
Copy cats.
Keep those cards and letters coming in.
Photo jock; teacher’s pest.
North Dallas Forty scores but misses the extra point, Dracula bites off more than it can chew, and Peppermint Soda recalls with accuracy the bittersweet days of adolescence.
By Gregory Curtis and George Morris
Charles Portis’ new novel belongs to the tradition of great frontier yarns, but this time the young man goes south.
Or, how we can all stop worrying and learn to love the crunch.
A cabal of eighteen.
Space cadet.
The Inside Story Nuns and guns.
The better half.
Out of production.
A few trusted friends.
Barthelme is a humane writer, but in Great Days he erased al his humans. Also, a look at two novels of the Texas hinterlands.
By Gregory Curtis and Raymond Carver
He knows the secrets behind closed doors.
Tolstoy, you’re late again.