More Awards Our congratulations to the following writers, whose work has been selected for these anthologies: Best Stories — Alice Mattison’s “In Case We’re Separated,” from the Fall 2001 issue edited by Donald Hall, will be included in The Best American Short Stories 2002. The anthology is due out this October from Houghton Mifflin, with…
A spring wind hustles hundreds of pages into the street, discarded leaflets like pieces of a shredded textbook under the feet of high school students let out for lunch. A young woman bends and grasps a flier: sliver of promise, passport to enter through the golden arches, gateway to the west, up escalator to immediate…
translated by Jay Rubin Junko was watching television when the phone rang a few minutes before midnight. Keisuke sat in the corner of the room wearing headphones, eyes half-closed, head swinging back and forth as his long fingers flew over the strings of his electric guitar. He was practicing a fast passage and obviously had…
MASTHEAD Guest Editor Margot Livesey Editor Don Lee Poetry Editor David Daniel Assistant Editor Gregg Rosenblum Associate Fiction Editor Maryanne O'Hara Associate Poetry Editor Susan Conley Founding Editor DeWitt Henry Founding Publisher Peter O'Malley Assistant Fiction Editors: Jay Baron Nicorvo and Nicole Kelley. Editorial Assistants: Merry Pool and Marissa Lowman. Proofreader: Megan Weireter. Fiction Readers:…
Cornelius Eady spent his entire childhood in Rochester, New York, a destination for many African Americans during the early twentieth-century migration. Though Rochester had once been a frontier town known for its radicalism and such famous residents as Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass, by the time Eady was born there in 1954, it had…
The furrows deepen on your forehead as you watch the TV story of Chief Joseph. Later, as your amber eyes—two villages, fade into the darkness, I deliver a knockout without mercy, “Does marrying me make you feel good?” Some have been known to bob up with “Somewhere in my bloodline is a Cherokee.” Your sad…
Late night in early winter. The last hour of the long drive home. I tend to the thermostat, keeping the car warm enough for my sleeping family, but not so warm that my focus turns dull. Beyond the chilled glass to my left, green dashboard lights angle up toward the stars. Distance defines our relations….
Is it a vanishing point or is it Brooklyn into which the cables run Brooklyn over which these two these shadowy walkers come against the shaded rails against the future in the arcades in the bridge the parallels above them in midair § Under a clatter of fire…
what about their celibacy? widow playing maid for an in-law and if high-born inheriting three thousand not more shaving her head wearing only white I do not know this law lying on my lord’s burning branches I do not mind getting old my forehead creases though my mouth still turns up I love trying on…
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