Death of the Artists: Marinetti’s Last Stand

IT'S SEPTEMBER, 1942, the Eighth Italian Army is camped just west of the Don River, preparing their latest counterattack against the Soviets in...
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Jan Balabán’s Maybe We’re Leaving | Review

For foreign readers, Balabán's work might represent an attractive mixture of the familiar and exotic.

Christopher Fahey: Nurtured Forms

Reaching into the world, Fahey’s airy yet mysteriously twisted, intertwining sculptures clamber in quiet, protean volatility.

Donna Stonecipher’s PROSE POETRY AND THE CITY | Review

Prose Poetry and the City, Donna Stonecipher's probing, flâneur-like meander through the history and poetics of the prose poem, is written not unlike the prose poem itself—an open space of relations that view modernity and its poetics not as a matrix, a network, or a panopticon, but rather as a series of moving tensions.

KUSAMA YAYOI: POP GOES THE DISEASE by Cynthia Gralla

If you played a drinking game while tearing through the major books in the Japanese canon and took a shot every time a story featured suicide, particularly a love suicide, you would need a new liver by the time you were done.

QUAD by Alistair Noon | Friday Pick

Despite my characterizing of Quad as elliptical, there is a clear distinction between narrative disjunction (abundant) and the formal repletion and bevelled finish of Noon’s quatrains (also abundant).

Alice Oswald’s Falling Awake | Friday Pick

Oswald writes poetry that combines a fascination with traditions of the distant past with a genuine interest in digging beneath the surface of all things to find layers that beg to be translated into words.

Stephanie Burt’s Advice from the Lights | Friday Pick

Burt’s riddles are a clever solution to the problem of how to communicate specific personal experience in a way that maintains a modicum of the universal, a problem she has explored in her criticism.

Concerto al-Quds by Adonis | Friday Pick

Al-Quds, which literally means “The Holy One,” is the Arabic name for Jerusalem. This city, with its palimpsest of histories, governments and languages, is the nucleus around which the electron cloud of this poem whirls.

Vladimir Nabokov’s Insomniac Dreams | Friday Pick

Was Nabokov’s dream diary a semi-spiritual, esoteric undertaking, or a kind of literary self-reflection? Both.

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