"This is the story of Lillian Leyb, a Russian immigrant making her way in a new land, traveling through America in the mid-1920s. Her daughter was taken away from her during a pogrom in Russia, and she feels this unbelievable mother’s pull to search for her child that keeps her going—literally—through woods and snow and over mountains. From minute one, you root for Lillian’s success because she’s this plucky heroine. I felt as if I were on the journey with her, so there were a couple of moments when I would just want to throw the book across the room and yell, ‘Amy Bloom, if you make Lillian suffer anymore, I am going to kill you!’ This is a sweeping story of someone new to America who runs into the best and worst of people. The kindness—and the harshness—Lillian finds along the way represents, I think, the real experience of our country."

"Terry Gilliam is a living treasure, and we are squandering him foolishly with every film of his that remains unmade. Proof that our world is the poorer for this can be found in two of his masterpieces. Gilliam is a fabulist pregnant with images—exploding with them, actually—and fierce, untamed imagination. He understands that “bad taste” is the ultimate declaration of independence from the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie. He jumps with no safety net and drags us with him into a world made coherent only by his undying faith in the tale he is telling. Brazil remains one of the most important films of my life, and Time Bandits is a Roald Dahl–ian landmark to all fantasy films. Seeing Time Bandits with my youngest daughter just two weeks ago, I was delighted when she laughed and rejoiced at the moment when Kevin’s parents explode into a cloud of smoke."

"Terry Gilliam is a living treasure, and we are squandering him foolishly with every film of his that remains unmade. Proof that our world is the poorer for this can be found in two of his masterpieces. Gilliam is a fabulist pregnant with images—exploding with them, actually—and fierce, untamed imagination. He understands that “bad taste” is the ultimate declaration of independence from the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie. He jumps with no safety net and drags us with him into a world made coherent only by his undying faith in the tale he is telling. Brazil remains one of the most important films of my life, and Time Bandits is a Roald Dahl–ian landmark to all fantasy films. Seeing Time Bandits with my youngest daughter just two weeks ago, I was delighted when she laughed and rejoiced at the moment when Kevin’s parents explode into a cloud of smoke."

"When I was a kid, the ending of this movie, where Kevin’s parents touch pure evil and explode, scared the shit out of me. I know Brazil is technically the more mature of Terry Gilliam’s films, and yet this is the one I go back to again and again. I’ve watched it many, many times since then, and I still don’t understand how it works. Gilliam creates an entirely plausible alternate universe with its own unspoken internal rules. It’s nightmarish and yet taps into what every kid desires/fears . . . the need for life beyond the yoke of one’s family. That last moment—which I’m sure was just a goofy set joke—was my first taste of existentialism. It freaked me out. I still don’t cerebrally understand why that moment ends the film. And yet it somehow works. I have yet to introduce this film to my daughter. Not sure when/if I will."

"Why was this a shock to anyone? I had to put something that wasn't from 1974 in my list! I really could have picked any Fiery Furnaces album… I came across the Fiery Furnaces when my daughter, who must have been about 13 at the time found 'Ex-Guru' and said to me: ""This is up your street Dad, listen to this"". And she was absolutely right; I immediately devoured their entire back catalogue. With this, I love how the lyrics seem really mundane but are somehow very charming; it goes from being a bit of a racket to being fantastically beautiful. And this is the one with the backwards masking, and I like anything with a bit of backwards masking. I have met Eleanor [Friedberger], but I didn't tell her I was a fan. I'm awful. That's why I don't like meeting people; either I disappoint them, or they disappoint me."