Brooklyn Public Library Presents
LitFilm: A Film Festival About Writers
One point: / it came from that way and goes this way / the lukewarm thought
Hawthorn is a plant that exudes the hospitality of an open heart.
A new collection of criticism and reportage considers Trump, Bellow, and the pleasures of close reading.
I was the type of man who got his ears cleaned. I was the type of woman who didn’t like dogs. We lived together in a house on a street that was the color of asphalt. I told you what I thought of you.
What’s wrong / with “ratty” whose / expectations cut, whose / trust shall be a spider’s web, got /
The debut novelist of Self-Portrait with Boy on the DUMBO of the 1990s, accidental art, and the importance of being unladylike.
February 1 marked the centenary of Muriel Spark’s birth, and we’re celebrating with a selection of the British master’s aphorisms, notes, and observations.
“Tiny Tim lived there, stirring beans and frying eggs in a kitchenette in the closet.”
“Resistance and change often begin in art.”
I just said I didn’t know / and now you are saying / you aren’t sure I’m cool / that’s cool
“The blood of the thing is the truth of the thing.”
Passion overwhelms comprehension. Comprehension kills passion.
humself, shamself, hymnself, shameself—. / lameself, lambself, numbself, unself—. / sing anger, goddess, of—. many devices—.
Writing art history from the inside out.
Two poets reflect on colonialism, iconoclastic writers, and the political dimensions of translating literature under authoritarianism.
A posthumous collection cements the author’s reputation as a master of the short story.
The solitude of the voice.
500 billion years ago—the dark touches itself in the dark and experiences something like ecstasy. Except that ecstasy isn’t a feeling yet—the sensation is just kind of sharp and warm. Afterwards, the dark feels happy and breathless. Afterwards, the dark feels lonely.
When I was thirteen, two missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to the house to follow up on a conversation from the week before with my mother.
The story’s “contents” are spun from actual events: in August 1973, Klaus flies to Los Angeles to meet his then-partner, Lynda Benglis (referred to as “Her”), who was to drive cross-country with him back to New York. Instead, he drives back alone, lost in a disputatious reverie circling around language, Gertrude Stein, modernist literature, mapmaking, and the act of writing.