The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
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The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
“Bird,” he cried, “I come on behalf of the emperor. Your voice is all anyone speaks of.”
She stops to look into her mother's face. It is smooth and blank as a stone. Nothing emerges; nothing shifts.
Baseball is not yet undergoing a revolution, but it is no coincidence that in 2017, even this politically timid game now carries a whiff of the resistance.
The author of F-Bomb discusses men's rights activists, the changes in modern feminism, and why the movement can't be a monolith.
When her father died, her second thought was that now, she could build her stairs.
As I watched my childhood friend under arrest on the evening news, the hopeful narratives of racial advancement that had sustained and motivated me began to collapse.
The journalist and author of The Only Café on violence, how curiosity sparks our accumulation of memory, and why nothing is ever new.
Like anything I love, I mistrust the color green down to the fingernail-edges of all the feelings it engenders in me.