The writer on the space between poetry and prose, how fighting is like dancing, and the resonant symbolism of the idiophone.
With Nigella Sativa, we arrive at midnight together, to the intimacy that can come from mass hysteria.
The writer on surrendering, working through her avoidance, and using her body as an anchor.
The writer on the artistic and emotional merits of reality TV.
We are street people. Nomadic by nature. We are the grandchildren of poor, adventurous strangers. Our living radicalizes their legacy.
Essays that investigate the poetics of “no.”
The black music of herbs.
The author on pushing back against the overly simplistic narrative of addiction.
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.
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.
The solitude of the voice.
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.
Years ago, desperate to find a babysitter in a short period of time, I joined two local parents’ groups on the web and remained subscribed to them long after my situation had been resolved.
The writer of Bunk on American hucksterism, racism, plagiarism, and why we believe what we want to believe.
Featuring selections by Justin Taylor, Shelly Oria, Mary Walling Blackburn, Kevin Killian, Barry Schwabsky, John Freeman, and more.
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.
Picture an area the size of Manhattan covered in sand. It rises and falls and disappears.
“There’s often a gap between what we’re trying to say and what we are able to say. Sometimes I’m successful and sometimes I fail. Sometimes it’s painful and sometimes I get into that space where it feels right. That’s the high.”