You could say that the research for my short story collection Love Songs for a Lost Continent begins with the unanswerable question I have about my first memory.
In the summertime, I have heard, Utopia Falls lives up to its name.
Mama, my daughter asks me at bedtime, if you were an animal, what animal would you be?
In it they found four tiny bottles of shower gel, six tiny lotions, a plastic laundry bag swollen with balled up clothes — I was on my way home, clearly, trip over.
At the first glance, Uncommon Miracles is surely a somewhat tautological title. This impression, however, diminishes as one progresses through the collection.
Q: Is the inside of my brain the journey or the destination?
When I was in college I saw a movie where the protagonist collected glass figurines of goats. He was a struggling artist with a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan, a genius spurned by his peers, until a woman, another artist, appeared in his life and helped him to greatness.
While writing these notes I am re-teaching myself how to solve a Rubik’s Cube. I first learned how to do it in 2010 and it took me a little while to get the hang of it. Once I had figured it out, it became part of what my hands were capable of doing — like learning how to play the piano as a teenager, my hands knowing the pieces better than I did, the notes and algorithms becoming muscle memory.
The baby makers were not willing accomplices. The women’s bodies, young and old, had all stopped preparing. They said there was too much pain involved.
Angela Mitchell discusses her debut collection Unnatural Habitats and Other Stories with Nancy Au.
Genevieve Hudson’s small debut story collection, Pretend We Live Here, could easily get lost in the shuffle, but it shouldn’t. Seeing it on writer Melissa Febos’ Instagram page put it on my radar, prompting me to pick it up when I saw its joy-yellow cover on a table at my local indie bookstore.