We’ve spent so much time discussing Ignatius Reilly: his multi-dimensional, timeless creation, but have ignored saying the obvious about John Kennedy Toole—that much of the Dunces mythos is built on the back of his suicide.
Florida is in a constant state of post-apocalypse. Authors are not immune to this speculative affliction, and when they set their fantasies in Florida, the reinvention of language abounds.
Francisco’s newest book, presented simultaneously in English and Spanish, is that of a young poet matured, leaning into the naturalist observations present in his previous work and writing haiku with the precision and wisdom of a sure-handed veteran—while infusing them with a trademark sardonic wit.
Floridian literature provides us with some evidence that the state’s aggressive setting takes an occasional youth back as a tax, like a spiteful Old Testament god, haunting every scrub habitat, clear-cut forest, abandoned development site, or drained swamp.
Key West is an international port of entry, an island where man and boat collide violently so that the lines between them become hard to distinguish.
Following the conclusion of her Climate Visionaries project undertaken with Greenpeace, Jason Katz speaks with Lauren Groff about writing climate fiction, her climate-related work, and talking to our youngest about climate change.
The satirization of the all-inclusive resort, a symbol of international tourism, could only be accomplished in a meaningful way by a titan of Mexican letters like Juan Villoro. Not only does he have the qualifications, but he has a unique capacity to create absurdist characters.