Sarah Vowell
Sarah Vowell
Sarah Jane Vowellis an American author, journalist, essayist, social commentator and actress. Often referred to as a "social observer," Vowell has written seven nonfiction books on American history and culture. She was a contributing editor for the radio program This American Life on Public Radio International from 1996 to 2008, where she produced numerous commentaries and documentaries and toured the country in many of the program's live shows. She was also the voice of Violet in the animated film The...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNon-Fiction Author
Date of Birth27 December 1969
CityMuskogee, OK
CountryUnited States of America
There are freaky talking mannequins in the Salem Witch Museum that recite the Lord's Prayer and while they do resemble shrunken apples they nevertheless help the visitor understand how hard it must have been for the condemned to say the line about forgiving those who trespass against us.
Relics are treasured as something close to the divine.
History is full of really good stories. That's the main reason I got into this racket: I want to make the argument that history is interesting.
I'm a big fan of editing and keeping only the interesting bits in.
Being a nerd, which is to say going to far and caring too much about a subject, is the best way to make friends I know. For me, the spark that turns an acquaintance into a friend has usually been kindled by some shared enthusiasm like detective novels or Ulysses S. Grant.
My audience is going to die before I do.
One night last summer, all the killers in my head assembled on a stage in Massachusetts to sing show tunes.
Behind every bad law, a deep fear.
Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you.
I'm not really the scented envelope kid of girl, preferring instead to send yellow Jiffy-lite mailers packed with whatever song is on my mind.
Along with voting, jury duty, and paying taxes, goofing off is one of the central obligations of American citizenship.
But when I am around strangers, I turn into a conversational Mount St. Helens. I'm dormant, dormant, quiet, quiet, old-guy loners build log cabins on the slopes of my silence and then, boom, it's 1980. Once I erupt, they'll be wiping my verbal ashes off their windshields as far away as North Dakota.
In death, you get upgraded into a saint no matter how much people hated you in life.
Radio is the playground of coincidence.