No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
I should have been smart enough to realize something most peculiar was up if I had noticed that the title page of Joy Williams short story in the Sept 30th New Yorker was all in small caps, both title and author’s name. That can be taken as a signal of formal innovation, an expectation that is most often disappointed, only not in this case.
When we try to conceptualize complex cultural movements the sometime clumsiness of language can from the start distort what we are saying and lead us down a dark noir alley of error.
Now his sister comes back to the car. She has been in the cheese shop by herself buying cheese while they wait outside in the car. She loves cheese. Sometimes she says she will run away and join a cheese cult, but that’s just a joke. She is ten and knows almost everything.
The American Beat writers circled back into fashion in the UK during the late 1980s / early 1990s. Their resurgence coincided with a spike in the counterculture that was perhaps a reaction to the grind of over a decade of conservative leadership and Thatcher-ism.
Hate crimes are on the rise, especially against Latinos
You grab new leggings, skirts & more
Survival of the richest: the wealthy are plotting to leave us behind
You cook one-pan honey-garlic chicken & rice
Pardoned by Trump, Oregon ranchers ride home in style on Pence ally’s private jet
You try the styling service that’s transforming the way women shop
Sacha Baron Cohen fools Republicans into filming ad about arming toddlers
You put your pet’s picture on socks. Free shipping!
Drought and drone reveal “once in a lifetime” signs of ancient man-made structures
You wonder, How does this adorable necklace help save bees?
Trump says “DNC should be ashamed of themselves” for getting hacked
You watch as sneaky cat tries to take chicken drumstick from owner’s plate
Plastic pollution has infested pristine Antarctic fjords
You clean literally anything you can fit in a sink with this device
Cape Town ‘Day Zero’ drought odds tripled by climate change
Your hydrating eye gel breaks through the competition
More mammals are becoming nocturnal to avoid humans
You’re this close to the most comfortable sleep ever
Animals rule Chernobyl three decades after nuclear disaster
This food tray fits perfectly on the steering wheel of your car
These birds of prey are deliberately setting forests on fire
Men build a world out of 42,000 matches just to watch it burn
[author] [author_image timthumb=’on’][/author_image] [author_info]Tara Campbell (www.taracampbell.com) is a fiction editor at Barrelhouse and an MFA candidate at American University. Prior publication credits include SmokeLong Quarterly, Masters Review, b(OINK), Booth, Spelk, Jellyfish Review, Strange Horizons, and Litbreak. Her debut novel, TreeVolution, was published in 2016, and her collection, Circe’s Bicycle, was released spring 2018.[/author_info] [/author]
I met my great-uncle Julián for the first time at my great-aunt Teresa’s funeral. He was a dark, tiny man dressed all in white. White pants, white shirt. And a cowboy hat. He looked like the stereotypical Mexican peasant, even though I don’t think he had ever spent an hour in the country.