This morning I threw Julian Barnes’ Sense of an Ending out the window of my car. I was reading at a red light. This occurred at approximately 10 A.M. at the…
Since returning from a brief hiatus in the mid-1990s, Oakland’s The Coup has flirted with perfection on three albums: 1998’s Steal This Album, 2001’s Party Music, and 2006’s Pick a…
Smoking again sounds like a good idea. I quit one November – twelve dry months following five years of intense puffing. The break was insightful, curative even, which was why…
Since launching Letters for Kids in July, we’ve sent some wonderful letters through the mail. To give everyone a better sense of what the subscription is all about, we’ve released two…
Molly Ringwald, once a Brat Pack member and now a novelist, chats about the writing life, avoiding clichéd similes, and the influence of Raymond Carver on her process.
Probably you will not get rabies if your dog licks your face, and you remember afterwards that the previous morning he may or may not have bitten a shrew.
M. Bartley Seigel has a presence that fills a room. It is no surprise, then, that the prose poems in his debut collection, This Is What They Say, fill the…
The place was called the Library Bar, but there weren't many books and there were no drinks at that hour. So we had to sit there bookless and drinkless. It was awkward in a fabulous way. The whole thing felt like a Thaisa Frank story—the event seemed to float above reality as we talked about things like the insanity of writing a book...
I felt like an arrow of sheer desire, flying through the air in a small town and emblazoned with this unfortunate tag line: “Newly single mother of a dying baby.”