It’s as if Mario Montalbetti is daring his reader to seek permanence in poetry’s aftermath, to maintain remembrance in spite of the difficulty.
Kathryn Harrison says, with a wink to the reader: “I feel no allegiance to this hypothetical child who complicates what is simple.”
Reading No Budu Please is like committing to the excavation of the continual traumas that occur within a post-colonial consciousness.
Reading Amparo Dávila’s stories is like accepting an invitation for tea at a haunted house.
As Smarsh unfolds her family's story, she offers sharp commentary on the structures that both shame the poor and perpetuate the cycle of poverty.
Nuruddin Farah has written a story about family, both the families we belong to by blood and the ones we forge for ourselves out of...
The book’s final line is a warning as much as an entreaty: “Don’t ever let them talk you out of being mad again.”
David Rosenthal is clearly a masterful translator of the original Catalan — you can see Rodoreda’s pen at work behind his translation.
This Sunday, the long-awaited HBO adaptation of Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend premiered, the first book in her Neapolitan novels quartet.
Museum of the Americas interrogates the white gaze and how the curation of the archive is another palimpsestic layer of control and power.
Inger Christensen’s poetic hypothesis houses the intimacy between an arrangement of the poem and content to curate layered meaning.
Killing Commendatore is the most recent entry in Haruki Murakami’s canon of sensory and supernatural games of chance.