What it felt like: A hole in the sky to see through. Staring at the too-bright page craving ready revelation, something like, Oh my God, I am or Oh my God, I love or Oh my God, I will.
In Fabrications Pamela Painter investigates the possibilities of such perilous spaces in thirty-one finely wrought stories, most of them published in several collections over the past three and half decades.
Somebody gets in touch on her work email, sends photos. “I know what you’ve done. I’m sure your husband would love to see these.”
Minae Mizimura’s second novel, An I-Novel, is experimental: it is the first bilingual novel printed horizontally in Japanese. It follows a day in the life of Minae, a 30-some-year-old Ph.D. in French literature at an Ivy League school, who is holed up in an apartment rife with reminders of her ex-boyfriend.
The porch was cluttered, though at dusk under the burned-out bulb I couldn’t have told you with what, and the screen door banged shut behind us as we walked inside.
Faultland_ by Suzy Vitello deals only briefly in what happens after a deadly 6.9 magnitude earthquake ravages a post-pandemic Portland, Oregon in the year 2030.
My mother was a pothead, not a drunk: this was important.
It is a cold night and Olivia has left me. I would attempt telling you about it, but the empty corners of my room have more to say. I’m too busy falling apart.
In his new story collection, Claire, Wading Into the Danube By Night, Jeffrey Condran’s fiction once again shines a light on places where the personal meets the political in the age of anxiety…
Most Filipinos know at least four languages — English and Tagalog, the two official national languages, plus legacy Spanish and a more localized language (or two or three). This multiplicity is aptly represented in Ulirát, an unprecedented collection of short stories that includes translations from seven of the more than one hundred languages of the Philippines.
At age four, wake in a smoke-filled room, coughing. Hear your mother’s panicked voice: Girls! Get up! Come on! Hours later, walk through the first floor of the San Jose, CA, split-level ranch your parents bought in 1975 for $19,000, clinging to your mother.