Latest Entries

A Couple of Idiots

Renée Branum on Elif Batuman’s The Idiot On my 30th birthday, while visiting my friend Sara in New Orleans, the city flooded. I don’t even remember what our destination was—only that we couldn’t reach it because the street was full of water. This trembling lake that only the bravest cars could move through: high-riding Land … Continue reading

Teaching Violence

Teaching Violence

Sara Hendery on Riad Sattouf’s The Arab of the Future It starts, for me, with an image of a bull. Burly and dark, hard, like forehead lines, proud and steaming—to some, a symbol of fear, to others, a symbol of home. Riad Sattouf’s graphic memoir The Arab of the Future: A Childhood in the Middle East, … Continue reading

Abjectly Speaking

Abjectly Speaking

Morgan Childs on Miranda July’s The First Bad Man More recently than I’m inclined to admit on the Internet, my father said something to me—female, twentysomething, heterosexual, and very newly single—that felt like salt in a wound. “You call yourself a feminist, but when it comes to romance, you’re like a limp rag,” he told … Continue reading

By Virtue of Another

By Virtue of Another

Sam Dolph on Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts Maggie Nelson’s memoir, The Argonauts, is about undoing. Structurally, she undoes everything we are taught about how a piece of literature is supposed to exist and work: she does not give us chapters, indentations at the start of paragraphs, or any kind of chronological order. She undoes the … Continue reading

The Hospitality Hoax

The Hospitality Hoax

Natalia Holtzman on Richard Makin’s Mourning It’s now something of a convention for a writer to complain about the inadequacy of language. How difficult it is to apprehend the world by way of sentences. I can’t help thinking that it isn’t language that is inadequate, but our use of it, our insubstantial grasp. We seem … Continue reading

Reading the Trees

Reading the Trees

Courtney Bulsiewicz on Angela Pelster’s Limber I saw a mallard in a small stream the other day; he thrust his head under the creek and threw the water down the back of his feathers, shaking his beak and making his neck a loose green rag. I stopped in the middle of the stairs I was … Continue reading