Atleework’s memoir is steeped in her passion for California’s Owens Valley and her striking observations. It reveals a life defined by an absence, and Atleework points us to the power in this understanding.
Bolina’s collection explores the complicated ground of being “of color,” being an immigrant, being American, and being human with an admirable fluency. He entrusts us with an honest conversation—one that we should all be having with one other.
Porochista Khakpour’s essay collection is a fearless reflection of an immigrant searching for home and for herself.
Genet operated in social structures in order to subvert them, to explore and craft beauty from the darkest corners of modern civilization. While most artists can only imagine a prison sentence, prostitution, ecstasy, or evil, Genet lived through these experiences and, in some cases, sought them out.
In his new memoir, Marcelo Hernandez Castillo writes his family’s story into the history books of immigration.
Vulnerable and wise, Hrabal’s gorgeous memoir subtly probes the depths of a fragile, troubled psyche, turning a subject as potentially benign as pet ownership into a platform of interlocking drama and introspection.
In her new memoir, Machado tells a story of abuse that often goes unrecognized, exploring what happens when we don’t have ready narrative models for our experiences.
Eliane Brum’s journalism is a challenge to those of us living lives of comfort and privilege. Our task is to be the reporter she strives to be: one who mostly listens.
Perry, in the legacy of James Baldwin, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and Kiese Laymon, employs the epistolary form to craft an intimate meditation on the fears, hopes, and responsibilities of raising two Black boys in America.
Emily Bernard writes she is "most interested in blackness at its borders, where it meets whiteness, in fear and hope, in anguish and love." She examines this intersection closely, with her own life as a case study, to see where the pieces fit together neatly, and where their edges