T.C. Boyle
@tcboyle.com
American fiction writer equally devoted to novels and short stories.
The Martians have landed.
November 25, 2025 at 5:13 PM
The Martians have landed.
The signing of the Chucks.
November 25, 2025 at 5:10 PM
The signing of the Chucks.
Tomato can with stockinged bottles.
November 25, 2025 at 5:04 PM
Tomato can with stockinged bottles.
Evening now and bitterly cold out there, so I’m warming myself by the fire.
November 25, 2025 at 4:52 PM
Evening now and bitterly cold out there, so I’m warming myself by the fire.
The most patient dog in Germany.
November 25, 2025 at 4:49 PM
The most patient dog in Germany.
Always prudent to ride the elevator with skinny people.
November 25, 2025 at 4:47 PM
Always prudent to ride the elevator with skinny people.
I do like this gentleman’s T-shirt.
November 25, 2025 at 4:38 PM
I do like this gentleman’s T-shirt.
The presiding spirit of the Green Room.
November 25, 2025 at 4:35 PM
The presiding spirit of the Green Room.
In the Green Room, awaiting the start of the show.
November 25, 2025 at 8:21 AM
In the Green Room, awaiting the start of the show.
Bad news—the Republicans are everywhere, even here in Munich.
November 24, 2025 at 3:54 PM
Bad news—the Republicans are everywhere, even here in Munich.
Trump is inescapable—he’s everywhere.
November 24, 2025 at 9:32 AM
Trump is inescapable—he’s everywhere.
Yes, my birthday is coming up soon . . .
November 24, 2025 at 9:28 AM
Yes, my birthday is coming up soon . . .
Der Morgen, 8:15 A.M., Munich.
November 24, 2025 at 9:25 AM
Der Morgen, 8:15 A.M., Munich.
The mean streets of Vienna.
November 21, 2025 at 10:14 PM
The mean streets of Vienna.
Outdoor dining (with lap rugs.
November 21, 2025 at 9:56 PM
Outdoor dining (with lap rugs.
Schiller. Every half hour the statue comes to life and recites “The Song of the Bell.”
November 21, 2025 at 12:16 PM
Schiller. Every half hour the statue comes to life and recites “The Song of the Bell.”
My latest girlfriend (don’t tell Frau B.).
November 21, 2025 at 12:06 PM
My latest girlfriend (don’t tell Frau B.).