In Evans’s first interview before the release of her new and unintentionally prescient collection, The Office of Historical Corrections, she discusses humor, power, and replicas of the Titanic.
The artist’s new graphic novel delves deeper into his mythic Moundverse, where gentle plant–animal vessels are protected by TorpedoBoy and hounded by tofu-eating enemies.
The debut novelist on her literary influences, informal storytelling, and the imaginative possibilities of walking.
“Comedy is a great vehicle for spreading the bad news about who we are. It’s also a mercy killing of the resistance that springs up whenever we’re forced to look at ourselves.”
Reliable uncertainty in Deb Olin Unferth’s Wait Till You See Me Dance
“I had a guy come up to me and say, ‘I think you’re a really good writer; I just think you’re wrong about a lot of things. But I enjoy the books.’”
“I intended The Fugitives to be as close to a zero-research book as possible. I decided that if I couldn’t find something with Google in ten minutes, then I should forget it, or make it up.”
“She isn’t all completely me, but somehow she’s a part of me, or some sort of art-making tool.”
“This is not a movie that invites you to really empathize with these characters, nor is that the point.”
Isolation, writer’s block, and break-ups on the road to success.
Filmmaker Matt Porterfield discusses the degrees of accessibility of his films and the process behind his most recent project I Used to Be Darker.
Performance artist Nelson and guitarist Reyna on women who shred and the unique artist community in Portland, Oregon.
Erin Markey discusses familial relationships, making “stuff for stage and video,” and dating chaperones.
Andrew Sean Greer on time travel and the living of life in his new novel The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells.
Mark Z. Danielewski on the shapes, colors, music, and musicality of literature.
“Crises always present a moral dilemma—how are we to behave virtuously, and still manage to survive?”
Pereda, a prolific minimalist, and Naranjo, known for his highly stylized portraits of disaffected youth, discuss their divergent styles, practices, and their shared “exile” from their native Mexico.
The authors ponder the implication of immersing fiction in place—Chicago in the case of Orner’s new novel Love and Shame and Love—and non-place, as in the hypertext that accompanies La Farge’s new novel, Luminous Airplanes.