I read a story by Lydia Davis about a woman who, upon turning sixty, began sprouting hair from her ears.
Founded in 1977 at Columbia University's School of the Arts
I read a story by Lydia Davis about a woman who, upon turning sixty, began sprouting hair from her ears.
We loved each other more slowly, losing rhythm and kisses along the way.
Everything feels like a death. I climb the tree and my husband hands me the bird.
This novel is at its best in its moments of careful consideration of the anxieties of its main characters.
The woods were a kaleidoscope of women. Tall, rangy women with muscled arms in cut offs. Women with mohawks in their best butch leather get-ups.
The man’s first wish: a job where he could earn promotions without kissing up to his manager or navigating office politics. A job where he needed only hard work, perseverance, […]
Kashua explores the ideas of migration, language, and nationality through a perpetual internal monologue that at times, seems to give away too much of the author’s hand.
Dressing, not stuffing. That’s a distinction she clings to even after all these years up north. Her worn hands crumble cornbread and white bread together over a mixing bowl, skin […]
Yi continued training, but he lost whatever hope he used to have; gone was the certainty in his steps and the hunger in his swings. He was distracted in the ring.
Alice looked over at Andrew. And then she looked away. She kept her eyes down as they walked to the lockers to don their gear. Andrew started making shrugging motions with his shoulders, as if to loosen up. He started…
by Gerry Mandel Selected by Guest Editor Joobin Bekhrad Mr. Bekhrad: In a situation like this, I think I’d ask myself, What would Omar Khayyam do? Warm evenings in Costa Rica, […]
by Kayla Tanenbaum When Emily Witt pitched Future Sex, she sold it as Gay Talese’s Thy Neighbor’s Wife for the post-internet generation. Emily’s editor suggested that she make Future Sex […]
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