She stops to look into her mother's face. It is smooth and blank as a stone. Nothing emerges; nothing shifts.
The author discusses her new book, Stag Dance.
“Don’t come out until I come back!”
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She stops to look into her mother's face. It is smooth and blank as a stone. Nothing emerges; nothing shifts.
The author discusses her new book, Stag Dance.
I worried I had broken the chatbot by trauma-dumping, and no one, human or machine, had the capacity to console me completely.
If he took a shortcut, if he made the creative process any easier for himself, the magic would be lost.
The author of Julius Julius on ad agency ghosts, shaming PSAs, and sexual harassment post-#MeToo
The genocidal mind is not the preserve of cartoon monsters in history books. It is a collusion of psychological habits groomed and grown in people like us when we fixate on our private gardens.
Smuggling contraband in from the realm of the actual.
The author of The Extinction of Irina Rey on writing a literary sitcom about life, death and climate change.
Back in high school a friend had called me Matt Damon in the drawl of Team America, but the connection to Tom Ripley felt more psychic, fundamental.
I learned to ignore the doubt that lapped at my ankles, a wave that rose every time I kissed him goodbye, left town for work or travel, and remembered, with a shock, how happily whole I felt alone.
They are often stewed foods, sometimes steamed or boiled. They are foods defined by their colours first—in this context, the lack of colour, the overall sameness, somehow gets misread as a fault.