Playing with polarities in Adrienne Raphel’s What Was It For
Moving toward a poetics of grief in Kate Zambreno’s Book of Mutter
Playing at life in Albert Mobilio’s Games & Stunts
A novel in need of 109,027,350,432,000 readers.
How the films in BAM’s TransCultural Express: American and Russian Arts Today shed light on the similarity between Siberia and Brooklyn.
Kevin Kinsella discusses the current exhibition on view at the Radiator Gallery, This Is How My Brain Works, which offers a keen curatorial selection of collage art by various artists.
Adam Levin’s Hot Pink is a sad collection, tempered with profound humor and unexpected depths.
Cassie Peterson unravels the many layers of self at work in Faye Driscoll’s newest creation, now at The Kitchen.
Sacrifice and selfishness in Matt Bell’s new novella, Cataclysm Baby.
Pablo Helguera deftly navigates the open SEAs.
Julia Guez on the pleasure and pain in Henri Cole’s new book of poetry.
Danielle Drees on Kate Christensen’s fifth novel The Astral, an examination of marriage and middle-age from a Brooklyn poet’s perspective.
“The true star of this collection is not plot or characters, it’s storytelling itself: the weird literary ventriloquism we perform as we divide out the speaking roles of our inner lives.” Andrew Zornoza reviews Lynne Tillman’s Someday This Will be Funny.
“I begin to see burned in every verse / an alcove, a rest, a bloody lumbering foot / I have cracked the words filled with wine.” Ben Mirov reviews Cedar Sigo’s Stranger in Town, an accumulation of poems many of which seem held together by magic.
Bonnie S. Egan digs into Emily Rubin’s debut novel Stalina — the idiosyncratic tale of a Russian Jew who immigrates to America in 1991.
It’s verse with some burnt edges. Levi Rubeck reviews Julien Poirier’s El Golpe Chileño.
Any Simic reader knows he is a collector of images: when stored they become memories. His poems depend on arrangement like Joseph Cornell’s boxes. Luke Bloomfield reviews Charles Simic’s Master of Disguises.
Justin McNeil delves into Moore’s comprehensive approach to prose’s varied roots.
Hong Sang-soo turns the lens on himself (maybe) in Like You Know It All, an angst-ridden portrait of a critically acclaimed but otherwise little-known director’s trial and error love affairs, friendships, and mishaps.