"I moved off-campus after my sophomore year in college and had to feed myself. My quasi-hippie roommate gave me a copy of Francis Moore Lappé’s Diet for a Small Planet, permanently changing how I thought about food and introducing selfish, cloistered little me to the notion of social responsibility. I became a vegetarian, learned to bake bread, and started a garden. My daughters’ friends used to call me Mrs. Nutritious—or Martha—and I loved it. Now, if I’m not writing, I’m either growing plants or cooking them. That slim volume revolutionized my life."

"This is the kind of film I love most—the kind I’m never really comfortable recommending to anyone. I can totally picture someone saying, “It’s awful,” and I’d be like, “Yeah. I see that.” Like, why is it so funny? And why, despite the constant silliness—an effete, vegetarian, sulky Dracula; Joe Dallesandro as a he-man socialist Brooklyn peasant; the jokes about finding young “wirgins”—is the overall effect so mournful and lonely? I think the answer has to do with the way the film never telegraphs its intentions. It modulates between horror, satire, spoof, porn, and tragedy, but imperceptibly. To catch the changes, you have to be in the flow of the movie, enthralled by it—and then everything works."