New York Live Arts presents
I say something about the time and he replies, “I cannot sleep in this lifeless room, I can’t, I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me.”
In the letter never sent, / the one constructed / entirely from photographs, / Polaroids of moments, or / elements I have been / attempting to suppress.
The Danish poet on corporeal poetics, pregnancy, and the influence of classical music.
Congratulations to Ward on winning the 2017 National Book Award for Sing, Unburied, Sing.
A rediscovered novel and memoir depict a character we are lucky to have on the page. In life he would mortify us.
“To credibly present ecstasy, pure ecstasy, is incredibly difficult. Once upon a time this wasn’t the case. This is what capitalism has done to us all—rendered earnestness—a thing of suspicion and contempt.”
Corruption, capitalism, and death in Puglia.
“The book can draw in different audiences without catering to them. There’s a kind of rigorous hospitality, an aperture for dialogue.”
Exploring the lost connection between aesthetics and science.
It was a long period of peace, prosperity, refined sensibilities and national self-confidence. And crumpets.
Following loosely in the tradition of the book-length photo-essay yoking images to text in a documentary mode, Cole has gently torqued this form.
When he could no longer stand her chatter—in France I made myself a dress of leaves stitched together with stems and I wore it by that river, the big one, the sludge, and that’s how I met many interesting boyfriends from the National Geographic Magazine—he left Nancy on the hotel roof with the chef from Mumbai.
The first thing my Godsent said when I came through the door was, “I think I have this damn thing on backwards.”
“When we really like a book, it’s often because its rhythm is similar to our own—to our heartbeat, our breathing, the way we walk. I think that’s what draws us to certain writers and not to others even though we know they are great.”
The Wake—Paul Kingsnorth’s 2014 debut novel, which chronicles the life of an Anglo-Saxon during the Norman Conquest—has since gained a disturbing resonance with the recent surge and codification of nationalism that is Brexit.
I remember your torso locked in a twill shell. / I remember the same rotating body bare. / Is my sadness ever any different?
It is both a memoir of Lindon’s literary friendships and a treatise on survival, a tribute to the friends whose care and love, in Lindon’s words, saved his life, even as they were themselves lost.
They say that, for the longest time, Enrique didn’t know he was a superman. What he understood was that men liked his dick.
The French writer Édouard Louis recorded his days in New York, around the time of the American release of his novel The End of Eddy. The following entries originally appeared in French in the June 6, 2017, edition of Les Inrockuptibles.