The Rumpus Interview with Susie Deford
Susie DeFord and I both finished drafts of our books in 2007. My former dog-trainer and I had labored together at café tables side by side, but after the writing…
Rumpus Originals
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Ted Wilson Reviews the World #122
THE SUPER BOWL ★★★★★ (3 out of 5) Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the Super Bowl.
March’s Rumpus Book Club Selection
We are thrilled to announce that March’s Rumpus Book Club selection is Sugar’s book!
Profoundly Compassionate
If you harbor desires for truly deserved happy endings and sharply drawn prose, then you will relish every page of Liz Moore’s new novel Heft.
In Praise of the Long, Lunatic Novel
More often than not, the best surprises arrive in unmarked brown boxes. In this case the mysterious contents appeared to be harmless enough, despite the intimidating immensity of the thing:…
The Comics Journal: The Eyes of the Cat
The Eyes of the Cat Alejandro Jodorowsky and Mœbius Humanoids $69.95, 56 pages Reviewed by Hayley Campbell This entire review is an elaboration on the following disclaimer: I am the…
The Sunday Rumpus Interview with Lisa Carver
I first heard of Lisa Carver in the late 1980s, when we were both about 19 or 20. Performing under the name Lisa Suckdog in shows that involved screeching, screaming, pissing,…
Decades of Nothing Between
These poems are often about the strange, complex and imperfect mapping of nature—human and wild—onto our 21st century lives.
THE WEEK IN GREED #2: Soprano Defeats Romney!
A quick pop quiz for the upwardly mobile couch potato: what theme unites virtually all our marquee cable television shows?
My Fruit Bat, My Gewgaw
These poems are about unintentional association, the ways our minds wander even when — especially when? — they’re trying to wrap themselves around a given idea.
“Thousands are gathered outside the interior ministry…” a Rumpus Original Poem by Dora Malech
“Thousands are gathered outside the interior ministry…” Bloody lullabies soothe the centuries. Can’t see the cradles for the tops of trees but you know the rest: you can’t rest, poor…