The journalist and author of The Only Café on violence, how curiosity sparks our accumulation of memory, and why nothing is ever new.
The author of Her Body and Other Parties on writing the fantastical, existing in the periphery and blueprints of the past.
Obsession will always be an attractive fresh hell for a person like me, a product of abandonment with a longing for attachment.
The authors of Lost in September and Strangers with the Same Dream talk about the relationship between an author and her characters, motherhood and writing, and sexism in publishing.
The author of Dinner at the Center of the Earth on the novelist’s responsibilities in times of political chaos, the bending and breaking of structure and genre, the shifting nature of Jewishness and identity, and his ultimate subject: right, wrong, and why we crave it.
The city was hot and the world was on fire. Why not go look at some animals?
Louis C.K. would rather ignore those assault rumours, but at this point, he can’t just let his art do the talking.
The author of Sour Heart on survival, memory and grace.
The fear of one day losing touch with Chinese culture compels me to shout my heritage just a little bit louder than my husband’s—including resisting things like casseroles and Jell-O.
The author of What We Lose on identities, the inability to be cured of grief, and abortion as a debate between something and nothing.
A traumatic fifteen-hour spinal operation saved my life but stole most of my mobility and, thus, my dance career. It took fifteen years to begin to correct the story.
Is donning cowboy boots a symbol of independence for women, or an attempt to fit in with a culture that does not seem to recognize—or respect—our autonomy?
Every day since November has been a drag. In the midst of its dog days, one weekend of well-deserved, inclusive, player-worship was the least baseball could provide.
Why am I loath to confess to the role these bands played in allowing me a measure of catharsis when I was a teenager facing down extraordinary grief?
Armond White’s film reviews were once electric: part historical analysis, part posturing, part insult comedy, an attempt to take black art—and art in general—seriously. What happened?
The author of The Dead Husband Project on Sartre, motherhood and solving proofs.
The history of curry is a close parallel to the formation of South Asian diasporic identity, a blend of conflicting cultural messages forced into coherence.
To be haunted by nostalgia is probably to be writing. Seventy years after Partition, India becomes, in our sentimental imaginations, both sweepingly general and intensely personal.
Talking to the author of The Stranger in the Woods about the hermit subject of his new book, what it takes to survive 27 years in solitude, and finding contentment in isolation.
Our stories are stock: they hold the disparate parts of ourselves together—our desired flavor, how we want to taste, how we wish to be known.

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