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.
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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.”
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.
The author of Funny Weather on publishing a book during a global pandemic, the eternal appeal of outsider artists, and living with an oncoming sense of catastrophe.
Mom wasn’t interested in being the type of mother—or wife—who put her own life on the back burner
Prepared for every situation, even pandemic, mothers should be the ones on TV when our nation is under attack by terrorists or viruses.
The author of The Knockout Queen on craftsmanship, sexuality, and strength.
A perfect engine of meaningless data creation; an otherworldly space-place where people could depressurize and sometimes succumb to madness; good even when they were bad.