mothers
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Mother Moore
In Hazlitt, Naomi Skwarna writes about using the writing of Lorrie Moore as a mother substitute: Living without a mother is a freedom by turns radical and excruciating. It is swimming in the ocean, and Moore’s writing was what made…
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The Rumpus Interview with Darcey Steinke
Darcey Steinke talks about her new novel, Sister Golden Hair, motherlessness, the Southern cult of femininity, and how becoming a woman has changed since she came of age in a small city in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
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The Saturday Rumpus Review of Wild
In simplicity there is truth, and being out in wide open spaces often has a way, like high-speed rail, to bring us back to simple things.
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The Big Idea: Eula Biss
On Immunity author Eula Biss speaks to Suzanne Koven about mythology, personal freedom, and the history of vaccines.
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: Cold Blue
On freezing winter nights, Cathy Bell finds some small respite from the pain of migraines and maternal estrangement.
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If It’s Not One Thing, It’s A Mother
My mother stood before me in her quilted bathrobe, dark hair held back in a ponytail, her eyes sunken, grey. I felt like the narrator of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, who, startled out of sleep, opens his eyes to behold the…
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The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show: Rachel Zucker
In Episode 4 of The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show, Dave Roderick sits down with poet Rachel Zucker to talk about her latest collection, The Pedestrians, what makes for good comedy, and word associations.
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Here Everything Is Possible
My mother died suddenly at a dining room table, in the middle of a wonderful meal, surrounded by a large, extended family that loved her. One minute she was completely immersed in the world—talking, laughing, eating—and the next minute she…
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Litany for My Mother’s Body
My mother’s body horrified me. Nine years old, I watched her dress. Her belly was rippled and sagged and scarred—a used-up bag of nothing.
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Hearing Mandarin, Speaking English
In middle school, “Yo Mama” jokes infuriated me. My mother was so Chinese she couldn’t eat a hamburger without pinching her nose. She was so Chinese she wore bamboo slippers. In a stunning essay for the Michigan Daily, Carlina Duan writes…
