“I don’t consider anything about my writing to be natural.”
New titles and reissues highlighted by Justin Taylor, Chelsea Hodson, Paul La Farge, Emmalea Russo, Alexandra Kleeman, Ted Dodson, Dan Sheehan, Kristen Radtke, Daniel Saldaña París, Marjorie Welish, Tobias Carroll, Jonathan Lee, Scott Esposito, and Lauren LeBlanc
“The perceived aversion to a male-centered illness narrative had to do with antiquated ideas about who should and shouldn’t be vulnerable to a failing body, and what that vulnerability means.”
Early film, nineteenth-century science fiction, and experimental musical languages serve a young artist’s explorations of race and our political present.
I forgot what it’s like to read erotica on the subway, how the steamier, hard-hitting scenes can really make the morning commute, well, awkward.
Odyssey Works has an audience of one—and a book for the rest of us.
“If we know the government is funding the arts or funding journalism, then it behooves us to put structures in place that will allow for them to be fearless.”
“If I were to ‘play something,’ I don’t think I’d ever feel satisfied. What I really want is to take that thing and transform it, process it into something else.”
Nicotine, the author’s third novel in as many years, dives into the world of East Coast anarchists.
“I feel ignored and doomed to anonymity, but free to do whatever I want within the sacred space of literature.”
“My imagination was shaped in a period of extreme rigidity in the social and political system. The apartheid system was about putting physical space between people. So an encounter with the other, with the neighbor or the stranger, has always seemed central to me.”
Recent and forthcoming highlights selected by Justin Taylor, John Keene, Albert Mobilio, Dawn Lundy Martin, Alan Gilbert, Ken Chen, Ander Monson, Chelsea Hodson, and Lawrence Giffin.
On John Cage’s Diary: How to Improve the World (You Will Only Make Matters Worse)
“People struggling to control language, control conversation, literally to control the world.”
A compilation of text, photographs, illustrations and diagrams, The Art of McSweeney’sdocuments the history of the unique publisher as it rose from its precarious position as a hawker of rejected stories.
“Everything goes, whatever. You know that word ‘whatever’—whenever that started coming in, about twenty years ago? It’s like whatever-core—that’s where we’re at now.”
You don’t have to be a connoisseur of erotica to recognize its tropes: wet, swelling pussies; budding breasts; hot, tight holes; massive rods … Do they seem all the more worn-out because they’re aimed at conveying sexual stamina?
As the title of a literary publication, this word—Pry—must serve as a kind of invitation, an invitation to read.