Since she’d been in recovery Abby had granted herself the serenity to accept the things she could not change. So she tried not to watch the conveyer belt too closely should a recyclable slip past the sorters and into the trash chute.
Narrative craft has a history. Cave persons had no interest in abstraction or jumbled events, but in an age glutted with information, we have an appetite for nonlinear stories that explore, wander, and engage us with the world.
Potted Meat is two-fold, the first being a symbol of poverty. Secondly, it was always interesting to me how the label on a can of Potted Meat presents itself as gourmet, but when you read the ingredients and open the can, there’s a different story.
He says she destroys everything. He doesn’t mean this as mordantly as she takes it, but that doesn’t matter, his words sink to her marrow.
From our bookshelf, two recent novels by Marcy Dermansky and Seraphina Madsen, both about complicated women on the road.
Blackass is a fresh and compelling exploration of blackness (and whiteness) in current-day Nigeria. A. Igoni Barrett’s debut novel balances strong roots in literary and cultural history with a comprehensive portrait of a twenty-first century life.
I, like my character Mara F, in my new novel The Solace of Monsters am composed of all the books I’ve ever read, including the ones I have forgotten.
I first experienced the English language as something intimate and familial. I was born in Zurich, the middle child of American expatriates, and while my parents spoke and read English to me, I conversed with my childhood friends in a spoken-only dialect called Schwiitzerdütsch (Swiss German).
She picked up her first stone when she was seven years old. As she leaped to avoid cracks in the sidewalk, she noticed the speckled, pinkish rock in the center of a concrete square, as though an unseen hand had tossed it into her strange, solitary hopscotch game.
The Prose of the Mountains is an ode to and a chronicle of the life of the Moxeves, the Georgian mountaineers of the region of Xevi. Aleksandre Qazbegi (1848-1893) experienced it first-hand, living as a shepherd in the mountains for seven years.
Fiction doesn’t happen in a vacuum. For all the imagination involved, a writer’s lived experience provides the soil — and sometimes the seed — for a story to bloom.