Fiction
Illustrator and memoirist Tamara Shopsin’s debut novel is set in TekServe, the iconic Mac repair shop of the 1990s, and is populated by geeks, celebrity cameos, and anthropomorphized machine parts.
Illustrator and memoirist Tamara Shopsin’s debut novel is set in TekServe, the iconic Mac repair shop of the 1990s, and is populated by geeks, celebrity cameos, and anthropomorphized machine parts.
Myriam J. A. Chancy’s eighth book follows eleven people whose lives were upended by the catastrophic earthquake that struck Haiti in 2010.
Lincoln Michel’s debut novel is a surreal sci-fi noir investigating a scandalous death in a futuristic, pharmaceutical-fueled baseball league.
Congrats to Edward Salem, the winner of this year’s Fiction Contest!
Two decades into a life sentence, KunQuest remains determined to live his best life as a rapper, artist, relentless reader, and, now, a debut novelist with This Life.
A coming-of-age story about girlhood in the suburbs during the 1990s.
A preview of Brontez Purnell’s upcoming collection, 100 Boyfriends.
The night it occurred to him he was living inside a corpse…
At thirteen, I felt my body slopping. Though I sat in the middle of the nurse’s height-weight chart, though I’d memorized the textbook diagram with its cake-like cross-section of flesh (epidermis, dermis, hypodermis stippled yellow with fat), my problem went deeper than biology.
At the appointed time, the team members left their rooms and followed Phillip’s directions. They walked down the hallway and up the stairs to a room at the end of the corridor.
“What’s a dinner party without a bit of schadenfreude?”
No one lives every day as the person they want to be. It is rare that a full hour should pass in such a feeling.
First I was Ren’s guest, a role that indicated only the short length of our acquaintance, rather than what it would become later: the strategic adherence to a balance of formality and intimacy designed to showcase only my most appealing qualities.
David Berman committed suicide, and I’m like a blackbird that has flown into a bay window and awoken in a flower box, dizzy in gardenia shade, trying to get un-stunned and back on the wing before the neighborhood cats come round.
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From personal ads compiled as narrative to a frame-by-frame retelling of a short film on grazing sheep, Nao’s poems and stories are acrobatic experiments in form.
Of all my clients, I liked Wen Changbao because he never touched me. I just listened to him. For a while I thought of myself as his dog, simply because he was my first friend.