9/11 is the catalyst to launch the characters of Claire Messud’s 2006 novel from their delayed adolescence into the sobriety and cynicism of adulthood among New York’s intellectual elite.
During the final years of Obama's presidency, Zuckerberg hoped her new book, in shedding light on how the Internet’s “manosphere” abused ancient texts, might expand how scholars of the classics study contemporary uses of the ancient world. Then, a few days after submitting her first draft, Donald Trump was
Alexander Chee, Dennis Norris II, and Brandon Taylor, each in their own literary style, paint queerness as an out-of-body experience.
In response to her novel, The Lake on Fire, Rosellen Brown has been compared to both Jane Austen and Tillie Olsen.
Though each of these poems embodies the heaviness of illness, their beauty is evinced in the pauses, the generous white spaces to be found in this book of poems.
In Stallings’ new collection of poetry, women are immersed in what it means to be a mother, and to see oneself growing older.
Olivia Laing, in her new novel, writes of a feeling that resonates: “She felt blank. She felt blank and mildly hysterical, she was itching to do something but it wasn’t clear what.”
The initial image of the sphinx in Garréta’s first novel seems to haunt the project of each of her subsequent books: a chimera-like assemblage of parts (the exact composition of which can vary) that remains enigmatic, that resists understanding.
With rich, corporeal symbolism, Rivera Garza not only demonstrates how gender classification and the language that serves it disappear marginalized voices from literature and marginalized bodies from the world, but also asks how this tiered disappearance might be tempered.
Three recent collections of poetry do justice to the complex relationship between silence, narrative, and the tacit relationships out of which language is born.