Rumpus Original
-
Revenge of the Prey: How a Deer Killed My Dad
I always hated Father’s Day. Did I need to be reminded that I couldn’t remember my father?
-
The Crash Scene of Species Extinction
Everything Roberson writes has an encyclopedic backscope, condensed into impeccable art.
-
No One Can Take a Bath for You: Why I Write
The other day, a friend of mine said he was giving up writing. This friend happens to be a very good writer. Why? I asked. Too many people already write about the things I write about, he said. I thought…
-
DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #76: The Woman Hanging on the End of the Line
Acceptance asks only that you embrace what’s true.
-
Everything Is Its Own Reward
Paul Madonna‘s new book, Everything Is Its Own Reward, is out now. The book covers 4 years of work and features 6 countries and 13 cities. And there’s a removable poster. Here are some beautiful excerpted pieces.
-
The Summer Without Men
Siri Hustvedt’s new novel The Summer Without Men traces the summer of Mia Fredrickson, newly divorced and back home in Minnesota surrounded by women, young and old.
-
So If You See the Vulture Coming
“So if you see the vulture coming flying circles in your mind remember there is no escaping
-
Wanting Light and Buying Hammers
Even the hardest books ultimately cohere, it’s just a matter of whether their internal logic will eventually open up and allow you entrance. Lily Brown’s Rust or Go Missing is such a book.
-
Readers Report: Running Away
A collection of short pieces written by Rumpus readers pertaining to the subject of “Running Away.”
-
FUNNY WOMEN #55: Facebook Giveth and It Taketh Away
I have so many friends. So many! 379, to be exact, although the number keeps fluctuating up and down by 1. Someone, or more than one someones, must be defriending me and then refriending me every few days.
-
Down from Cascom Mountain
Ann Joslin Williams’ first novel, Down from Cascom Mountain, follows troubled young people in an idyllic lodge in New Hampshire for one summer.
-
Julia Kristeva’s Face
In the winter of 1989 I had finished my first semester of graduate studies in English at Penn State University and received, in my campus mailbox, the comments from my professors for the “Introduction to Graduate Studies” class.