The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
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.
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The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
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.”
The author of Sharks in the Time of Saviors on mythmaking, magical realism, and the hero complex.
The author of My Meteorite on interconnectedness, chaos, and a sense of magic.
The author of Hidden Valley Road on true crime reporting, family secrets, and finding stories.
I followed a desire to witness, but not control, the inner workings of living things.
This was a real friend. Like old times—better times. When your chip bags spilled over and your idols reeked and all your friends tried to kill you.