On the second-last page of A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, George Saunders explains that writing the book turned out to be a chance to ask himself “again” and “at length” this question: “Do you still want to devote your life to fiction?” Spoiler: he does.
Just yesterday I was commenting to a friend that my reading of late has felt rather disheartening. Some beautiful writing, and vitally important stories, but it was taking a toll. It reminded me that there’s been other reading in my stacks in recent weeks that could serve to balance.
Julia is lying on the hotel bathroom floor with a nosebleed, a few hours before her literary reading, from her book of poetry, at an event in northern Ontario. She jokes that she’s a “promising” poet, which means that her fee is lower than that paid to poets who
Maybe three years ago, I watched an interview with Margaret Atwood—back when all the talk was about The Testaments (either its coming or its arriving), in which she was asked whether she considers herself an optimist or a pessimist and on the following weekend, Mr BIP and I were
This is the final story in the single volume of Alistair MacLeod's collected stories, Island (if you're discovering this project after it's complete, you will be able to find the schedule for this reading project here). After spending a little more than a year with Alistair MacLeod’s short stories,
