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.
If beauty is in acts of ordinary devotion I think ugliness must be in the acts of everyday neglect.
The author of Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars on the joy of writing a cast of women, the violence of passing and the responsibilities of media-makers.
I am learning what it is to be responsible for my own warmth.
One thing I love about many types of guardianship in food is that it requires you watch, but not too closely.
My neighbourhood doesn't look like a place where, a century ago, hundreds of people were incinerated, and that's exactly the point.
Searching for fading words in London, New York, Melbourne and San Francisco.