Welcome to Saturday, friends. I hope you've had a good week. The turn from summer toward autumn is undeniable now here in Boston, though I'm sure we'll get at least one more heat wave that begins the day I need to teach my first classes of the semester and hope to get to campus without looking I rolled down a hill along the way.

Here's what we've been up to:

Megan Howell reviewed Make Your Way Home by Carrie R. Moore (Tin House). This is her first time writing for us, although reviews editor Diane Josefowicz did write about Megan's own story collection Softie at the start of the year.

And this week's featured story, bringing our summer flash fiction series to a close, was "My Brother Is Buried at Sea" by Athena Oliver.

Fiction editor Lacey Dunham's debut novel The Belles will be published on September 9 by Atria Books, so it's a great time to preorder a copy if you haven't already.

Contributor Abigail Oswald wrote this week to share that she is now the editor of Split/Lip Press' very exciting Lost/Found imprint, created to give a second chance to books gone out of print in the comings and goings of small presses (something I can very much relate to). Abigail writes writes,

On September 3, Split/Lip Press will open for submissions for Lost/Found, an imprint that gives out-of-print books a new home. Here at Split/Lip, we know firsthand how much labor and love goes into the process of writing and publishing books. The Lost/Found imprint is Split/Lip's small way of giving beloved books a second life and celebrating the legacy of the presses who first published them, while also offering new generations of readers the chance to discover (and rediscover) old stories. The Split/Lip team sincerely appreciates the resilience of every author who's committed to sharing their stories with the world, and we can't wait to read your work!

Finally, I've been enjoying and thinking about the tapestries of artist Tabitha Arnold this week, as well as her prints. The labor of the works themselves and the labor movements and moments they represent create such a stirring resonance with the past and the present. They feel, to me anyway, at once deeply individual — the long hours of work by one artist — and deeply collective as images of many hands working together.

They also remind me of a favorite novel, A House In Norway by Vigdis Hjorth and translated from Norwegian by Charlotte Barslund, which is about a textile artist grappling with how to live in daily actions the ideals she weaves into her work. The book seems to be unavailable at the moment, unfortunately, but hopefully with the increased publication of Hjorth in English translation that means a new edition is coming soon.

Thanks for reading,

Steve Himmer