The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
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The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
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.”
There is freedom that comes with the chaos of Athens, and that freedom is written all over its walls.
Talking to the author of The Last Days of New Paris about applying a video game sensibility to fiction, redeeming and finding inspiration in the politics of the Surrealists, and when to add demons.
The author wrote what she knew, but also what she believed, what she feared, and what she was constantly trying to run away from.
Notes on two afternoons with the playwright who gave us Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Zoo Story.