Nothing Foreign about It: Talking with Omar El Akkad
Omar El Akkad discusses his debut novel American War, suicide terrorism, fossil fuels, and blankets.
Rumpus Original
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The Rumpus Poetry Book Club Chat with Kaveh Akbar
Kaveh Akbar discusses his new collection Calling a Wolf a Wolf, finding community in poetry, books on craft, and mining the supernatural for poems.
Readers Report: Masks and Disguises
A collection of short pieces written by Rumpus readers pertaining to the subject of “Masks and Disguises.”
Reclaiming the Identity of the Witch: A Conversation with Katy Horan
Katy Horan discusses Literary Witches, which she illustrated and worked on in collaboration with writer Taisia Kitaiskaia, out tomorrow from Seal Press.
What to Read When You Are a Nasty Woman
A list from Kate Harding and Samhita Mukhopadhyay to celebrate the release of Nasty Women: Feminism, Resistance, and Revolution in Trump's America.
The Woman Behind the Curtain Pulling the Levers: Talking with Zinzi Clemmons
Zinzi Clemmons on What We Lose, representations of blackness, and life's influences on writing.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Four Poems by Hala Alyan
Nothing’s Freudian anymore. A cigar’s a cigar. I want to love something. / I want to love something without having to apologize for it. Please don’t tell.
Black Ops for Jesus
Ruby knew this story and what it said about Mom's threshold for domestic abuse, perhaps better than anyone else since her driveway was practically adjoined to our own. She called anyway.
Watching the World End: A History of The Weather Channel
[A]ll this sensationalism has made The Weather Channel, inadvertently and ever increasingly, the essential television viewing experience of the Anthropocene.
Death, Satan, and Cats: A Conversation with Rabih Alameddine
Rabih Alameddine discusses his newest novel, The Angel of History, surviving the AIDS epidemic, and the role of religion in his life and writing.
The Last Poem I Loved: “The Cinnamon Peeler” by Michael Ondaatje
How different the world of the poem was from Saudi culture, which draped me in black and insisted, it often seemed, on One Truth.