Every morning, I write the day’s most important headlines on a blackboard.
Meg Pokrass’ newest collection of flash and micro fiction titled Alligators at Night illustrates why she is a master of short fiction.
Ernie’s nephew, Fritz, received his party invitation by way of email while hauling a truckload of scratch-n-dent candies to a backcountry cattle ranch two weeks in advance.
The tales in The Lonesome Bodybuilder place the reader in seemingly ordinary settings — so ordinary that when the strangeness encroaches in the form of alien customers and umbrellas that make businessmen fly, Yukiko Motoya’s narration blends the bizarre so seamlessly into its mundane backdrop that we easily accept it.
Let’s be honest, references to the body of an airplane are nothing but linguistic propaganda. Metal wings and manufactured fuselages are the antithesis of scar-powered, human flight. An obvious truth: people can’t surmount their own hard ground while strapped in and contained.
David H. Lynn discusses his new short story collection Children of God and his editorship of the Kenyon Review with Grayson Treat.
Scott’s riveting emotional book stands out for the strength of its writing and for its portraits of small town waitresses, factory workers and fast food restaurant managers not often seen in contemporary fiction.
A single fat droplet hit the singed crown of Maximilian’s scallop, spread into a glassy oval, and dissolved. Maximilian swallowed the remnants of crostini he was languidly munching and glanced up at the ceiling.
One of the most striking qualities of Aatif Rashid’s debut novel, Portrait of Sebastian Khan, is its ability to lay bare misunderstanding, in the moment it appears.
Phoebe sat up to look. Four days of driving across the country, warm air blowing in the windows, had weaved the hair on the back of her head into a ball. White and yellow lights dotted the darkness on her mom’s side of the car.