Theo Bravo | Divergent Star Theo James
Photograph by Matthew Brookes. 

Theo Bravo | Divergent Star Theo James

Photograph by Matthew Brookes. 

From Garbo to Gaga … Coolidge to Obama … Jitterbug to Twitter …

Presenting Vanity Fair 100 Years: From the Jazz Age to Our Age.

Buy it on Amazon today! 

Chronicle of a Death Retold
The avalanche of books marking the 50th anniversary of J.F.K.’s assassination is both too much and not enough. James Wolcott reports. 

Chronicle of a Death Retold

The avalanche of books marking the 50th anniversary of J.F.K.’s assassination is both too much and not enough. James Wolcott reports. 

Testing the Summer’s Best Beach Reads.

Photographs by Justin Bishop

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VF.com answers the urgent question on everyone’s mind: what has Harvard’s Class of 2003 been up to? Here’s an excerpt:

Creating jobs:

I’m looking forward to catching up with everyone. Anyone interested in babysitting, we pay generously.

Visiting London:

“She’s a cool mistress, this wondrous London: ever forgiving but never one to forget.” 

Picking up hobbies:

“I’ve recently taken up boxing in the tradition of Teddy Roosevelt (1880).”

And last but not least, engaging in Smash Bros. rivalries:

Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaah, boooooooyyyyyyyyy! Obviously, I bought a Nintendo Wii, and obviously, there’s a Smash Bros. game for it. So obviously, Kevin Clancy ’03 and I renewed our rivalry after he graduated from business school and moved a few blocks away from me on the Upper West Side. I am happy to say that I currently lead him 112-103 all-time (we play one-on-one, in Brawl mode, because of course we do, what do you think we are, weirdos?) The process of writing a ten-year update forces me to survey our Smash Bros. activities and accomplishments, which, to my surprise, are extensive.

Read more here.

Christopher Hitchens’s Handwritten Notes in The Great Gatsby

On the heels of Baz Luhrmann’s heady film adaption, see the jottings of a writer who rivaled Fitzgerald himself, as Hitchens prepared for his May 2000 V.F. column “The Road to West Egg.

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“Fitzgerald’s work captures the evaporating memory of the American Eden while connecting it to the advent of the New World of smartness and thuggery and corruption. It was his rite of passage; it is our bridge to the time before “dreams” were slogans. He wanted to call it Among the Ashheaps and Millionaires—thank heaven that his editor, Maxwell Perkins, talked him out of it. It was nearly entitled just plain Gatsby. It remains “the great” because it confronts the defeat of youth and beauty and idealism, and finds the defeat unbearable, and then turns to face the defeat unflinchingly. With The Great Gatsby, American letters grew up.”

Read more from Hitchens here.

Martin, Maggie, and Me
In an excerpt from his memoir, late contributing editor Christopher Hitchens recalls the first time he met Margaret Thatcher: 

Within moments, too, I had turned away and was showing her my buttocks. I suppose that I must give some sort of explanation for this. Almost as soon as we shook hands on immediate introduction, I felt that she knew my name and had perhaps connected it to the socialist weekly that had recently called her rather sexy. While she struggled adorably with this moment of pretty confusion, I felt obliged to seek controversy and picked a fight with her on a detail of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe policy. She took me up on it. I was (as it happened) right on the small point of fact, and she was wrong. But she maintained her wrongness with such adamantine strength that I eventually conceded the point and even bowed slightly to emphasize my acknowledgment. “No,” she said. “Bow lower!” Smiling agreeably, I bent forward a bit farther. “No, no,” she trilled. “Much lower!” By this time, a little group of interested bystanders was gathering. I again bent forward, this time much more self-consciously. Stepping around behind me, she unmasked her batteries and smote me on the rear with the parliamentary order paper that she had been rolling into a cylinder behind her back. I regained the vertical with some awkwardness. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and gave an almost imperceptibly slight roll of the hip while mouthing the words “Naughty boy!”

Read more here. 

Martin, Maggie, and Me

In an excerpt from his memoir, late contributing editor Christopher Hitchens recalls the first time he met Margaret Thatcher: 

Within moments, too, I had turned away and was showing her my buttocks. I suppose that I must give some sort of explanation for this. Almost as soon as we shook hands on immediate introduction, I felt that she knew my name and had perhaps connected it to the socialist weekly that had recently called her rather sexy. While she struggled adorably with this moment of pretty confusion, I felt obliged to seek controversy and picked a fight with her on a detail of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe policy. She took me up on it. I was (as it happened) right on the small point of fact, and she was wrong. But she maintained her wrongness with such adamantine strength that I eventually conceded the point and even bowed slightly to emphasize my acknowledgment. “No,” she said. “Bow lower!” Smiling agreeably, I bent forward a bit farther. “No, no,” she trilled. “Much lower!” By this time, a little group of interested bystanders was gathering. I again bent forward, this time much more self-consciously. Stepping around behind me, she unmasked her batteries and smote me on the rear with the parliamentary order paper that she had been rolling into a cylinder behind her back. I regained the vertical with some awkwardness. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and gave an almost imperceptibly slight roll of the hip while mouthing the words “Naughty boy!”

Read more here

Maurice Sendak’s Darker Dreams 
Read an exclusive excerpt from My Brother’s Book, the beloved author’s haunting tale of the journey to death.
Danielle Steel Takes the Proust Questionnaire.
Illustration by Risko

Danielle Steel Takes the Proust Questionnaire.

Illustration by Risko

(Source: vanityfair.com)