AYA OSUGA A. was born in Japan and raised in Los Angeles. She received a degree in computer science from Yale University, where she also had the privilege of studying under influential novelists. Her first publication appeared in McSweeney’s. She left a career in banking to focus on writing and currently runs a school and […]
Meet Our Contributors: Issue 59:2 Spring 2020 Read More »
During this time we have made PDF copies of all our issues $4, including our special issues on Iran, Europe, and Caregiving.
PDF issues $4 during the COVID-19 Crisis Read More »
The flesh rises in still early morning like dough that wants to make bread. And I am the one to feel it passing through me into you rising easy as saying I know moves quickly into I knew it—or like after your saying I said oh you ohing me on to say oh my sadness so you could
One day, Kyoko had the idea of showing her vegetable garden reflected in a hand mirror to her husband upstairs. For her husband, confined to bed, this alone would open out a new life before him. One could never say that it was simply “this,” a mirror. The hand mirror belonged to the dressing stand
Moonlight in Water Read More »
In this volume, the personal is always at war with the political, and boundaries – both geographical and personal— are often blurred, bombarded, beset.
From Sanjukta Bandyopadhyay’s “Kitchen,” ” After every night, every morning is the same: each human being eats-drinks-brushes his teeth, just like a human being; I don’t have any illusions.”
Steinorth loves where words come from and how they sound against one another. She loves how they carry meaning and how meaning can overwhelm them. She delights in the history and connotations of the words she uses.
The light is gone and not returning soon this winter.
Ghazal: This Winter Read More »
As narrator, Lizzie Benson is delightful company. Her mind is a wellspring of wry, cutting observations about motherhood, marriage, and…a possibly imminent apocalypse.
A Friend for the End of the World: A Review of Weather by Jenny Offill Read More »
I think our only recourse it to acknowledge that everyone’s grief is their own, immeasurable.
A Python Swallowing an Antelope: An Interview with Gail Griffin on Grief and Writing Read More »
