January 2012
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How Harry Potter Should Have Ended
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Football Fiction, from The New Yorker →
We’re down to one game in the NFL, a rematch of the 2007 Super Bowl.
Both games yesterday had all the makings of great literature, as did the previous week’s New Orleans/San Francisco matchup.
Football + literature = Win.
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Rebutting Shivani, from Brevity's Nonfiction Blog →
A kickass response to Anis Shivani’s (constant) criticism of creative writing:
Karen Babine’s crisp rebuttal. Here is a bit:
…the main issue that Shivani overlooks—whether intentional or not, in his purpose to incite as much reaction as possible in his readers—is the difference between creative writing and literature: literature is artifact. As my fiction students identified last week,...
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Whenever we took Deuce to meet anyone, we made sure his hands were hidden.
– Nathaniel Tower, “Two Hands Are Better Than Four”
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Tennis Love: from "Forest Hills" →
“He took up a spot on the last court, farthest from the lights. In the darkness, though, he could make out the white lines, the taut net, the side-by-side benches. Mary always insisted on her own bench. We smell too bad to share, she’d said with a laugh. Hank slipped off his shoes and moved to the service line. The manicured grass comforted his tired feet. Like a cloud, he thought. In his...
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Hari Kunzru: Reading 'The Satanic Verses' in... →
From Guernica:
Why the novelist read from Salman Rushdie’s banned book The Satanic Verses to protest against the cancellation of Rushdie’s visit to the Jaipur Literature Festival.
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I know few towns which inspire me with so great disgust and contempt.
– Edgar Allen Poe on Brooklyn. Quoted in Dwight Garner’s review of New York Diaries: 1609 to 2009. (via mcnallyjackson)
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‘It was a match, not a game. Tennis is a match.’
– from “Forest Hills,” published in jmww
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I was embarrassed to take Deuce home.
– Nathaniel Tower, “Two Hands Are Better Than Four”
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Excerpts from my novella, "Memorial Day" →
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Amongst a group of boys and young men, I spotted my father sitting on his board,...
– from my novella, “Memorial Day” (via dannygoodmanwriting)
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Delay is natural to a writer. He is like a surfer—he bides his time, waits for...
– E. B. White (via theparisreview)
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Everybody’s got to be somewhere. Wherever you / are right now, that’s just fine....
– David Kirby, “Did You Tell Anyone You Were Coming Here,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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Marla placed it on the sand. It paddled away from the booms of crashing waves,...
– Alison Barker, “Fact of Life,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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Pheromones never lie, he said, ducking his head slightly towards one wing. Fly...
– Julie Innis, “Fly,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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Donald and I had a relationship history that could be traced to the...
– Ann Bogle, “1974, What I Wanted,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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Every tunnel’s a piercing, every road’s a tattoo. / The billboards are pimples,...
– Bill Yarrow, “Chapel Access,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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Often now he heard owls off on the edge of their property at night. Some of them...
– Myfanwy Collins, “The Whole Deal,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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I rehearse what I’m going to say but never say it. They were called coffin ships...
– Howie Good, “Oh, Look,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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I dropped the grammar lesson. Considering he was raised by apes, it was amazing...
– James Valvis, “Closet Tarzan,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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My tool kit—heavily equipped with duct tape, scissors, and glue—performs dual...
– Bryanna A. Buchanan, “Broken Toys,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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This is one of those neighborhoods…where eyes of men are redder than the...
– Angelle Scott, “One of Those Neighborhoods,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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‘We fucked it up. Everybody wanted to be king. No one wanted to follow....
– Mensah Demary, “The Games We Play,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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she undresses in my karmic bed / for a while / remains naked in a veil
– Igor Ursenco, “fortuna labilis,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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…I remembered the flowers I put in a vase on my desk, the petals as they...
– Karen E. Sikola, “Headlines,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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This Week in Fiction: The True Bolaño →
Laura Brown, fwriction : review’s Poetry Editor, also serves as an intern for New Directions, one the most wonderful publishers around. In this week’s The Book Bench, get a glimpse of just how splendid they are, care of an interview with Barbara Epler, regarding Roberto Bolaño, whose fiction “Labyrinth” is featured in the current issue of The New Yorker.
New...
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The girl doesn’t mind. She has an imagination that needs flexing, freedom to...
– Len Kuntz, “The Spaces in Between,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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He looks like he’s / having a Zen attack / or else resetting his inner / child
– Jerry Ratch, “Bike Messenger on Lexington Avenue,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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‘I’m not any more religious than I was before I drank. I’m not religious...
– Frank Hinton, “Sweet Potato Fries Please,” from fwriction : review’s anthology, Year One
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The ending constantly revises itself.
– J. Bradley, “Leaving The Silver City”
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Life was repulsive.
– Roxane Gay, “Girls With Eating Disorders,” from fwriction : review’s Year One
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It never occurred to me that any of the things I was doing were really real.
– Sarah Flynn, “Goodbye To All That,” from fwriction : review’s Year One
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…she instead flirts with faces whose main defining characteristics are a...
– Suzanne Marie Hopcroft, “Miller vs. Winterbourne,” from fwriction : review’s Year One
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Wondering leads to an imagining of a landscape from before she had her hands in...
– Nicholas Mainieri, “Landscapes,” from fwriction : review’s Year One
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With her gone, the house will be blazingly empty and we will look at our...
– Marcus Speh, “Mother Burning,” from fwriction : review’s Year One
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Literature is the hardest thing I’m able to do.
– Róbert Gál, from “Waxing,” from fwriction : review’s Year One