Elisa Shua Dusapin’s debut novel, Winter in Sokcho, transports us to the off-season in a resort town near the North Korean border.

The writer on her new novel, why style is political, and the kinds of subjectivity we experience.

The late poet on his artistic influences, leftist politics, and reading to anarcho-punks.

On writing for the sound of it, scandalous joy, and the seriousness of scatterbrained expression.

On her new collection of nonfiction, Me & Other Writings.

On translating avant garde and genderless literature.

An eerily at peace coterie.

The pleasures of literary play in the writer’s final novel.

In An Approach, the sentence gradually evolves: word choices change subtly; phrases are introduced, transposed, or deleted; punctuation shifts and changes form. Through these shifts and disruptions, the text begins to accede to a nonlinear logic, through which we can glimpse “the unspoken, which is its subject, between the words, through the words.”

Finally back in the fold of Hollywood—one imagines him advancing mistrustfully, mistrustfully looking up at the high and useless palm trees (an immoderation which serves no purpose: the palm trees “planted on both sides of the expressway in order to purge an already pure sky”).

A rediscovered novel and memoir depict a character we are lucky to have on the page. In life he would mortify us.

“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.”

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.

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.

Female intelligence and female obsession, in the air

If the experimental French writing group Oulipo were to be reborn today, would they return as performance artists? Anne Garréta’s 2002 Prix Médicis–winning novel, Not One Day, marks her as a literary acrobat suspended between those who hold on to the group’s relevance and those who have let it go in favor of conceptual art practices.

Sexual awakening amid poverty and violence in Édouard Louis’s The End of Eddy

Earthquakes, rain of blood, and other fun things in Jean Echenoz’s We Three

These two slim volumes, which are somehow stories, memoirs, meditations, diaries, and novels all in one, operate as much at the level of the sentence as that of the story. 

The author’s first novel is set in Mexico City, but its themes of violence, grief, and solitude are truly global.