Fiction
The room was quite small, and they were touching elbows. Can you eat them? she asked. I wonder if they’d taste like pork.
Nonfiction
Status update: accidental archivist inherits box of letters from eminent writers, ponders meaning of ink smears and other traces of the human hand in the age of instant reply.
Nonfiction
In excerpts from thirty years of correspondence, a celebrated British editor and a laureled American poet share transatlantic news of literary feuds and book parties, and document their experiences of growing old.
Nonfiction
A self-proclaimed elephant-termite confronts some of our long-standing literary assumptions, and argues that rather than erecting monuments we should seek abundance.
Fiction
He was nibbling, he was a French boy, not all that bright but he was a beautiful, beautiful French boy, his name was Alex, and . . .
