The editors are delighted to officially announce that the Columbia Journal Fall Contest is now open for submissions in poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and, for the...
What it means to live in a world where anyone can hide behind a screen but anything, once written on a screen, can’t be hidden.
Each essay is a testament to the complicated relationships between mothers and their children and to all the silences that surround them.
Testing out photos like ties or cufflinks for the occasion, dressing the dead in the distracting garments of life.
"Azabache" by Rocio Reyes Mejia is the Nonfiction Winner in Columbia Journal's inaugural 2019 Spring Contest, judged by Kiese Laymon.
Based on the podcast of the same name from Radiotopia, the book is a multimodal experience, one that opens the ears through the eyes.
I power-walked to my laptop with a bizarre strut, like my flea infected leg was made of wood.
I had told myself that my tolerance was a virtue, but perhaps it was a weakness, a form of passivity.
Sophia Shalmiyev takes the reader through her experiences growing up with an alcoholic mother and her search for replacement mother figures.
Fleischmann’s essay, Time is the Thing a Body Moves Through, is a balancing act of various genres.
I would try to point to some ordinary kindness or act of care or tenderness or beauty, which we are always in the midst of.
Esmé Weijun Wang talks about her new book The Collected Schizophrenias, cultural stigmas around mental illness, and “narrative therapy.”