Jim Henson’s Netflix prequel is a masterpiece of puppetry filled with allusions to our contemporary moment.
This piece consists entirely of first sentences from 268 short stories published in The New Yorker over the past 20 years, from 1997 to 2017.
What literature can (and can’t) tell us about America’s criminal justice system.
The Danish poet on corporeal poetics, pregnancy, and the influence of classical music.
“I originally published this in 2007 thinking, Oh this is a fine book, but I will be joined by a whole lot of amputee writers, and they are going to be here any minute. I’m still waiting.”
From the Pentecostal churches of his youth to ’80s underground Goth punk and queer clubs to museums around the world, an iconic performance artist tells his story.
From Lagos to LA, a young painter’s images resonate with meaning, both personal and political.
Nicotine, the author’s third novel in as many years, dives into the world of East Coast anarchists.
Wry installations and revelatory sculptures blend art-making and activism in Chin’s unique practice of transformation.
For her residency at the New Museum, Leigh looks at the act of healing through the lens of black female caregivers, educators, and intellectuals.
“Life has a soundtrack. And certain music is a soundtrack to a certain type of identity or feeling. 50 Cent, the Game, and those kinds of guys—they made us feel like our lives were worth nothing, basically.”
“A good part of our work is about giving materiality to things that aren’t visible.”
Christos Ikonomou, Rafael Chirbes, and new fiction from the eurozone.
“We also looked into hysterical and mythological bad dads. And so we twisted all this material into questions like ‘Has your father eaten your siblings?‘”
On Iván Repila’s The Boy Who Stole Attila’s Horse
“People struggling to control language, control conversation, literally to control the world.”
Martha Rosler on the Garage Sale, plights of modern workers, and her college days in California.
“When we walk around with all this weight on our shoulders, we justify our boots.”