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.
Working night shifts was exhausting, but it showed me a side of humanity and community I haven’t experienced since.
The author of Directions to Myself discusses temporal landmarks, the vilification of Sally Mann, and nonfiction as a juxtapositional art form.
The author of A Bit Much on anticipatory grief, huge emotions, and the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
The underpaid part-time job is a cornerstone of teenage life. None shaped me more than the year I spent in our town's “premier fun pub.”
