Somewhere Below the Solar Plexus of Her
What does it take for a person to kill a living thing, then a human being? Why are the truths of war silenced?
Blogs
5701 posts
The Last Book I Loved: The Handmaid’s Tale
My boyfriend sometimes says things like, “Back in high school, I was a theater geek.” What he means is that he attended acting camps during all his summer vacations, and…
FUNNY WOMEN #70: Top Vaginal Scents for the Holiday Season
Okay, ladies, you’ve read our tips on pleasing your man in the bedroom, but over the years many of our faithful readers have written in with the same concern:
The Last Book I Loved: Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage
I read Alice Munro’s books in benders. It usually takes me less than two days to finish one of her collections, and while reading it, I make and break promises…
Ted Wilson Reviews the World #115
CHECKERS ★★★★★ (2 out of 5) Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing Checkers.
The Last Book I Loved: Atlas of Remote Islands
Maps, at their best, are more than representations of the world. They are worlds unto themselves—endlessly explorable, enigmatic, complicated, and alive. I remember the first globe I owned as a…
Why I Love the Rumpus Book Club
Being a part of an online community comprised of people all around the world is a very odd feeling. You know the other members so well, yet not at all.
What Part Are You Now?
Harrison’s style is spare and evocative, more expressive than Hemingway but less misogynistic, more accessible than Thoreau. Honest.
DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #92: Your Invisible Inner Terrible Someone
That mystery is not the curse of our existence; it’s the wonder.
Love you too, Harriet!
Harriet, aka the Poetry Foundation blog, has posted an excerpt of the Rumpus Poetry Book Club’s recent chat with T. R. Hummer. Watch as I learn what the Bald Man…
THE LONELY VOICE #14: Isaac Babel, Every Grief Soaked Word
I mourn him like a lost brother. I’ve no right to say this. It’s ridiculous. Yet some voices, we convince ourselves, can’t be lived without.
It’s Pigsty I
Nomura plays with language in radical and diverse ways, employing subtleties of rhythm, semantics, image, gender, punctuation, and repetition, often all within the same short stanza.